12. Maggie
TWELVE
MAGGIE
“We almost made it out of South Dakota without stopping at Wall Drug, but after like three hundred miles of signs advertising the place, Ollie and Carson were dying of curiosity,” Violet said, exasperation in her tone.
My poor sister was not a fan of that particular tourist destination.
“Ethan didn’t help things any by pointing every single one of those obnoxious signs out to the boys—and reading them. They made a freaking game out of it.”
I ladled chili into a couple of to-go containers as I listened to the video message, my stomach growling. This pot had been simmering most of the day, and I was ready to scarf it down.
I couldn’t remember the last time I made chili.
I’d hardly cooked in the past three months since Luanne insisted I had enough on my plate.
I let her take over the cooking because I was tired of the passive-aggressive comments she called feedback when I prepared meals.
And most days, I was too stressed to eat much anyway.
I’d experienced exactly zero appetite issues since arriving in Bluebell Springs, though.
Another small confirmation that coming here was the right choice.
“Carson had a full-blown meltdown when we drove by the first exit, so we turned around,” Violet added, rolling her eyes.
“Ethan promised me extra donuts for being brave and facing my fears, so I’m buying them all while he takes the boys to ride some jackalope statue.
You do remember our first trip here, right?
I think I was like seven. I still have nightmares about these damn mannequins. ”
“They are creepy,” I mumbled, sealing the plastic bowls with lids. I filled two in case Walter was interested in having a dinner guest. But if not, he could crack them open and leave them on the counter to fully cool so he had leftovers.
While at the Grizzly Grocer this morning, I spotted yet another flyer announcing a town-wide chili cookoff during the upcoming Golden Days.
It seemed like a nudge to see if I could pull off Grandpa’s recipe by memory—he’d never written down the ingredients.
A tentative taste earlier told me I was close, but there was still something missing.
I’d try again next week. But this batch was decent enough that I was willing to share it.
Since I spent most of yesterday afternoon and today reading a book on the porch swing, I was hopeful for some friendly conversation with someone who actually replied in real time instead of hours later. Preferably someone who didn’t look at me as though he hoped I’d incinerate to ash on the spot.
Maybe Luke would like some chili too, a little voice whispered in my head. Apparently, I wanted to play with fire.
“Of course the boys abandoned me,” Violet added, “so it’s just me and the murder dolls as I search for donuts.”
I reached for the upper cabinet door to grab a third plastic bowl with a lid, but Violet chose that moment to flip around the camera.
I shuddered at the sight of a life-sized saloon girl sitting on a bench, in a corset, laced-up boots, and a fedora, and nearly tripped over my own two feet when she zoomed all the way in on the face.
Dammit, I wasn’t ready for that shock.
“You can’t convince me these guys don’t come to life at night.”
She pointed the camera at an old miner with a white beard, blue shirt under overalls, and hollowed-out eyes with way too much white. Damn that was terrifying. But why couldn’t I look away?
“Vi, I am so sorry I made fun of you for being afraid of them when we were little.” She couldn’t hear my apology, of course, so I’d have to remember to make it again when it was my turn to record a response.
“The scariest part is that the boys are obsessed with them.” Violet flipped the camera back to her face. “They also want to adopt a jackalope. So, wish me luck with that.”
I finished packing up a tote bag with chili bowls, fresh-baked cornbread, and all the fixings Walter might want as my sister navigated her way to the donuts in the back of one of the buildings.
She ordered two dozen before she ended the video message, promising to check in tomorrow so I knew the mannequins hadn’t kidnapped her and turned her into part of the display.
“You ready, Ellie Belly?” I asked my sleepy pup.
She’d enjoyed her fill of adventures today.
Earlier this morning, we walked up and down several streets within city limits so I could take a plethora of pictures for Mom, who, if her texts were any indication, was clearly still worried about me.
She kept checking Facebook for updates, despite my reminders that I’d deleted my account once I called things off.
I bombarded her with photographic evidence that I was not having a mental breakdown in the cutest mountain town, and she backed off her insistence that she needed to fly out here.
Ellie rolled to her feet, stretching dramatically. I said, “Big stretch!” in a long, drawn-out way, because it was the law. She wagged her tail appreciatively.
“Why don’t we go see what our neighbor is up to?
” I carried the insulated bag to the front door, and slipped on a pair of boots and a hoodie over my tank top.
Though it’d been pleasantly warm for September, once the sun dipped below the mountains for the day, the autumn chill came on quickly.
Something I learned the hard way last night after falling asleep on the porch swing.
Ellie only swatted at the leash twice before she finally relented and allowed me to clip it to her collar.
As we headed across the street, I noticed Walter’s house was completely dark, aside from a soft glow coming from his kitchen window. I hadn’t thought to give him a heads-up about my chili plans.
“Maybe Walter’s out on the town tonight,” I told Ellie as I rang the doorbell and waited on his porch.
The man seemed to be constantly on the go.
Late yesterday afternoon, I caught him on the way out the door, headed to bingo.
And this morning, we crossed paths with him during our walk as he was headed for coffee with the guys.
His social life, for a man of ninety-three, was quite impressive.
“Guess we’re eating alone tonight,” I said, stepping off the porch and heading back across the street. “C’mon. We can bring him a bowl tomorrow.”
My gaze flickered to the condo on the right, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Luke was home.
Considering his place was even darker than Walter’s, I guessed not.
There was a hunter-green truck instead of a police vehicle in his driveway.
I didn’t know what to make of that. Was he out on a date and made the poor woman ride in the police car?
I laughed to myself, wondering if he’d insist she had to sit in the cage in the back seat because it was protocol.
When we reached the driveway, Ellie tugged hard to the right.
“We’re over here, Ellie Belly.”
She let out a heavy sigh and kept tugging in the opposite direction, successfully pulling me right up to the new truck.
Because I nearly smacked the window with my face, I allowed curiosity to get the better of me and peeked through the driver’s side window.
I spotted a scanner built into the console, along with an extra large coffee cup in a holder, and a Bluebell Springs Police Department ball cap in the passenger seat.
Not a date.
Why did that make me feel better?
It’d be the greatest relief if the man had a girlfriend, even if I couldn’t wrap my head around the type of woman who’d put up with his epic grouchiness. If he was taken, it’d be the ultimate protection against doing something stupid, like throwing myself at him in a moment of weakness.
Ellie tugged again, insisting we head to Luke’s front door, but I held my ground.
“You think I should take Officer McGrumpy a bowl, don’t you?” I hadn’t run into Luke since yesterday morning at the hardware store. I should be happy about that. There was no one scowling at me or scolding me about leash laws or pretending not to like my dog when they clearly did.
And yet, this urge to see him kept clawing at me. Like an itch I couldn’t quite reach to scratch.
The man might grate on my last nerve, but dammit I enjoyed riling him up. I enjoyed being in his orbit, and that was becoming a problem.
I could blame the latest book boyfriend I’d gotten caught up with, or my months-long sex drought, but it was likely the dream I had on the porch swing yesterday afternoon that was the real culprit.
The one where Luke cornered me in the hardware store in the doorknob section, wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants.
He’d caught me, of course, glass doorknob in hand, and threatened to cancel my reservation.
But I offered to pay him in other ways like some sex-starved harlot.
My nipples pebbled at the hazy memory of being backed against the shelves, Luke’s warm, muscular body caging me in as his lips lowered to let me know exactly what he thought about my offer.
Of course, Ellie woke me with a gentle lick to my cheek before anything really good happened.
“Yeah, I’m going to pass.” It was better if I didn’t see Luke until I could get myself in check. Because clearly, I wasn’t in my right mind.
I wished I didn’t know about him losing his mother. I refused to pity the man—he’d hate that more than I would—but I could empathize. This whole thing made him seem more human somehow, and it was causing my common sense to short-circuit.
Ellie groaned as though annoyed, but she finally relented. Or so I thought. Because I no sooner got inside and stripped out of my hoodie before Ellie was picking up the tote handles with her teeth.
“Ellie—”
She lifted to her back legs, pawing at the front door handle.
“Okay, okay! You win.” I took the bag from her. “I’ll go see if he’s home. You stay here.”
I slipped out the front door, shivering at the chill in the air now that the sun had dipped all the way behind the mountains. But if I turned back for my hoodie, I wouldn’t go through with it at all.
“It’s just chili,” I said, as though that made it true. “It’s way more like a peace offering than an . . . invitation. Plus, it would be rude to make a bowl for Walter and not offer one to Officer McGrumpy, right?”
And now I was talking to myself.
Cool points for Maggie.
As ringing the doorbell didn’t seem to have any effect, I knocked instead. There was no answer, no lights, no signs of life. No reason to feel bad for not sharing since I’d tried. Ellie would just have to accept that.
I knocked once more to be sure.
Just as I was about to turn and leave, a light flipped on inside and the echo of footsteps grew louder.
The door swung open, and I was not prepared for the sight on the other side of it.
Luke was once again shirtless—I was beginning to sense a highly annoying pattern—in nothing but a pair of pajama pants slung low on his hips, debunking my theory about the six-pack.
There were definitely more than six abs, all cut with razor-sharp precision.
A hip tattoo of what I suspected was a wolf disappeared below the waistband, and I gulped a swallow.
“Did you need something?” Luke asked while fighting a yawn, sounding more tired than irritated.
“Were you sleeping?”
“Is that a crime?”
“It’s just . . . early.” I glanced at my smartwatch just to be sure. Yep, 6:35.
“You come over to lecture me about the time?”
“I came over to offer you some chili, but—”
He yawned again, this time stretching his arms overhead.
His fingers gripped the top of the doorframe easily enough as he leaned forward.
My greedy gaze traveled down the length of his body, right back to those pajama pants, snagging on an impressive bulge.
Sweet Jesus, I was not mentally prepared for this.
“But?” He was smirking, as though the jerk knew exactly the effect he was having on me.
“Are those Star Wars pajama pants?” I asked as though I’d only been observing the gray material littered with character heads and the printed words Star Wars and not imagining what I might find should those pants suddenly fall to the floor.
My hardware store fantasy would be forever altered. One tug of that string—
“Yes.” The confidence in his answer made my nipples pebble. Oh wait. The traitorous bitches were already hard. No wonder he was acting so smug. He knew I was turned on.
Jackass.
“Do you want chili or not?” I snapped, holding up the insulated tote bag and shoving it at his bare chest.
“Did you poison it?” he asked, accepting the bag and peeking inside.
“Only one way to find out.”
With that, I spun on my heel and forced myself to take the steps slowly. I would not give Luke the satisfaction of watching me run away like some scared mouse.