Maisie
. . .
FIFTEEN
“Dumb fucking idea!” I rip the sheet from my journal, crumpling it into a ball to toss on the floor with the other fifty sheets sitting there.
Writing slump is a real thing, just like a reading slump.
Ever since I got rejected, it feels like I have no confidence behind my ideas.
As soon as one sparks, by the time I get it down on paper, I end up hating it—so clearly, my publisher will too.
Do I know for certain they would hate it…no. But being told your work is not up to par will do a number on you. Add on a strict timeline and call me fucked, because all the sudden, my brain forgets how to work.
I’m blaming Grayson. He’s the only thing my brain has been able to think about since leaving the dock. He consumes my every thought. The man was literally covered in horse shit, for God’s sake, and still had me wetter than Niagara Falls.
Make that make sense.
My phone flashes with a notification. It’s already 7pm, great. Contrary to my words, I indeed did not have a pie baking in the oven. I actually haven’t eaten a single thing today.
I’ve been writing—or attempting to. I’ve been so lost in my thoughts, or lack thereof, that I didn’t realize how much time had passed. I close my journal with the promise to come back to it with a fresh mind tomorrow.
Following the sound of Evie’s purrs, I find her munching on a bowl of cat food. She lets out a howl when she spots me and comes over to figure eight between my legs as I walk. I don’t know why she started doing this, but I’ve learned my lesson to watch for her.
The pantry is small, but it’s stocked with a few snacks. I rifle through the cupboard, and Evie jumps on the counter to rub her head on me. She bumps my hand all over the place, and it's so cute, I can’t be mad.
The pantry is pretty much a desolate ghost town. Apparently, I snacked harder than I remember. There’s one full bag inside, though. Now I know why Evie jumped up here. She’s just buttering me up.
I shake a couple catnip treats into my palm, dropping them on the counter for her. She snatches them up like a shark, purring the entire time. This cat is the definition of treat motivated. I’ve taught her how to sit, shake, spin, and jump to earn them. She’s basically the shit.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a car to grab food, and I’m pretty sure they don’t even know what Uber Eats is out here. I shoot a text off to Chesney asking to borrow his truck—not that I want to drive, but I also need food.
Yo, loser, can I borrow your truck? Turns out, you have to feed yourself as an adult.
Cheshire Cat
Sup, loser. Good news and bad news.
Oh God, what now? Lay it on me, I guess.
Cheshire Cat
Bad news….I’m not home, so no truck for you.
And the good?
Cheshire Cat
Grayson has one you can borrow.
Really? That’s the good news? I see nothing positive in anything you just said.
Cheshire Cat
Hey, you had a problem, and I gave you a solution. You should be thanking me, really.
What if he’s busy?
Cheshire Cat
Text him and ask, loser.
Cheshire Cat
Grayson Miles phone contact (496) 648-8369. There, before you bark about not having his number and try to back out.
Cheshire Cat
Love you too!
It’s just a text, Maisie. There's no need to freak out. Except there is every reason to freak out right now. I feel like a teenager texting her crush for the first time. What do I even say? Hey Grayson, give me your truck. Oh, by the way, this is Maisie, in case you didn’t know, since I’m a stalker and got your number behind your back.
Yeah, hard pass. What about a simple Hi!
No, because he doesn’t have your number idiot, so he will probably ignore the text.
Maybe a Hey, it’s Maisie, remember me from the creek earlier when we almost kissed and then I ran away like a child, and oh, by the way you smelled really nice, and I think maybe I like you more than a little bit, and I’m an idiot who lives in delulu land who can’t go one second being alone because she has abandonment issues.
Oh, and don’t forget the crippling anxiety to top it off.
Yup, that’s definitely the one!
Fuck me, this is going horribly. I’ve never been able to do something simply. I have to overthink every single step I take or thing I say and then spend the rest of my life overanalyzing it until it drives me insane.
I write three more sets of messages before I delete them all and throw my phone across the room. You know what, I’m just going to walk over there and ask him in person. Then, he doesn’t even have to know I have his number. Yup, that’s the only logical solution.
I bundle up, making sure to grab my discarded phone for a flashlight, and slip out my door with a promise to be right back to Evie. My walk turns into an Olympic sprint when my tits almost frost over. What a way to go out.
Grayson’s cabin looms, and my nerves skyrocket. It’s just one conversation. You can do this. Will I piss my pants in the process? Possibly, but food is more important at this point. Hangry Maisie is no fun to be around.
My hand is poised over Grayson's door to knock, but I can’t for the life of me bring myself to do it. I sit there for a minute, trying to hype myself up like I’m going into battle.
“You are a boss ass bitch, Maisie. You can do this. Men ain’t shit,” I whisper under my breath. Just as I’m finally psyched up to knock, I hear a voice that doesn’t sound like Grayson’s inside.
Shit. Does he have a woman over? It is the weekend, and the man has needs. Why hadn’t I thought of him having someone over before trucking my ass all the way here?
I should have just sent the damn text.
Fuck food at this point. I just want to curl up in a ball and never face anyone ever again. Adulting is too hard. A weird, uncomfortable feeling swoops over my stomach. That can’t be… Am I jealous there’s potentially another woman inside with him? Getting to touch him, maybe even kiss him?
It’s none of your concern. But it hurts all the same. Just as I drop my still-raised fist and turn around, the door flies open behind me. I’ve never been more mortified in my life.
“Maisie?” Grayson asks in a sexy rasp.
I can’t get my feet to move, like I'm in quicksand. I wish it would just swallow me whole.
The squeak that comes out of me is horrifying. “Uh, yup, that’s my name. Don’t wear it out,” I ramble, silently berating myself. Could I be more embarrassing?
I smooth my sweaty hand down my pants, giving him a half smile. “How did you, uh, know I was out here?” Is he part superhero? At this point, it wouldn’t surprise me. Think about the cute little superhero babies, though.
Not fucking helping.
A breathy laugh fans through his lips, and there go my thighs, clenching. To my mortification, he points up to a little blue blinking light above the door. “Twenty first century. It’s called a door camera.”
Oh, Jesus. Was he watching me spiral out of control this entire time? Was I talking to myself? Yeah, I’m pretty sure I was at one point. There’s no turning back now. “Right, cameras. I think I’ve heard of those,” I joke, shooting him finger guns.
Really, Maisie?
He leans casually against the doorframe. “So, are you just going to keep standing out there in the cold, or did you need something?”
I try to come up with an excuse, but he pins me with a raised brow, and I crack like a nut.
“I was coming to ask if I could borrow your truck so I could go grab some food. I asked Ches first, but he’s busy, so he sent me here.
And now, I feel stupid for showing up unannounced.
Clearly, you have company.” My hands are flailing as I speak.
A slight curve tilts his lip, like he’s in on some secret I’m not privy to.
“I should let you get back at it. I mean, back to your…whoever is in there.”
My cheeks are on fire. Note to self: face to face mingling is not my strong suit. Sometimes, it is better to hide behind a screen. I give him a parting wave, that same shit-eating grin firmly in place while I attempt to run for my life. One step, and I’ll be home free, but that step never comes.
“Waisie? Is that you?” Nova screams, sprinting up to Grayson and hugging his leg like a bear.
Oh, how wrong I was. That explains all the smiling while he got to witness the meltdown of the year. My heart does that little thing where it lightens a bit, maybe relieved it’s Nova and not some bombshell. It actually swells two more sizes, seeing Grayson taking care of his niece.
This is not good for my ovaries. Abort. Abort!
“Hi, sweet girl,” I coo. I side shuffle, leaning back on my heels and hike a thumb over my shoulder. “Right, well, I’m just gonna go.”
Grayson steps forward. “I thought you needed food?”
I throw my hands up. “Turns out, there’s a Pringle can in the back of my pantry I just remembered, so I should be set for the week.” The joke doesn’t land.
Grayson's face hardens, clearly not happy with my response. Before he can speak on the matter, Nova’s face lights up.
“Oh, we have food! Uncle Gway was cooking us dinner, and he made this many.” She stretches her arms out obnoxiously wide.
“You can eat dinner with us, can’t she?” She flies out the door like a squirrel, latching to my chest. I hug her tight before she goes tumbling to the ground.
“PLEASE!” she yells in my ear, and there goes my hearing.
My face twists in a half smile, half I have no idea what to say back to that or how to get myself out of this situation. “Maybe another time, sweetie. I’m sure your uncle was looking forward to spending the evening with you.”
Her face scrunches. “More is better. Why would we want two friends to play with when we can have three? It’s basic math, silly.
” She smirks at her own words, and it’s pretty damn cute.
Those puppy dog eyes find Grayson, and then she’s screaming and tugging on his shirt.
“Please, Uncle Gway. You don’t mind, right? ”
Her lip quivers, and he’s done for. “There’s plenty of food, but it’s up to Maisie.”
“Oh, I couldn’t impose. I can walk to the store, honestly. I could use some steps after sitting on my ass all day.”
“Swear jar!” Nova yells, throwing her hands over her mouth with a cheeky smile.
Right. Little ears. I’m still getting used to that. Just another thing to add to my list of fuckups this week. At this rate, something’s bound to go right. Right? Balance in the world and all that jazz.
“Get in the damn house, Maisie,” Grayson grumbles, motioning me in with his arm.
“Swear jar!” Nova yells, her eyes wide. This time, it gets a laugh out of me.
“Shoot, sorry, kid. At this rate, you’re going to take all my retirement money.” Nova points to his pocket, where I assume his wallet is, and smacks her hand.
He pulls out a few bills and hands them to a smiling Nova. He pins me with a glare, leaving no room for argument. “Over my dead body will you be walking in the cold dark to the store.” He sighs, trying to tame his temper. “Please, Maisie, will you join us for dinner?” His fist flexes at his side.
He doesn’t particularly seem happy about it, but I also feel like he would throw me over his shoulder if I attempted to flee. And men say women are the complicated breed.
“I guess I could stay for a quick bite.” I squeeze by him in the narrow doorway. Something smells amazing in the kitchen. I take a deep inhale and sigh at the comfort.
Nova flies by me, her little feet running a million miles an hour. “Last one in the kitchen’s a rotten egg!” she screams, giggling to herself.
Grayson saddles up to my side, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s sort of her thing at the moment. Last week, it was all aboard the smelly train every time I was around her in my work clothes.” He sighs, but there’s a prideful smile on his face. “You get used to it. C'mon, I’ll show you around.”
Grayson takes the lead, veering left into the kitchen. It’s an open concept cabin on the bottom floor, a loft hanging over the kitchen and stopping when it gets to the sunken living room. It’s oddly modern for a cabin.
“Did you pay someone to do this?” I say before thinking better of it.
“To build my house?” He tilts his head.
I twirl my finger in the air, looking around at his gorgeous house. “All of it. It’s stunning in here.” Is that a blush that tinges his cheeks?
“I built and decorated it myself. Well, Laine helped. She has a great eye for stuff like this. We’ve always dreamed of a place like this when we were little. It felt right having her be part of the process.” He clears his throat, giving his back to me as he messes with something on the stovetop.
I twiddle my thumbs, unsure what to do with myself. That is, until Nova grabs my hand, pulling me down a hallway. “You have to see my room,” she squeals.
It’s impossible to keep up with her fast feet. She’s like a duck waddling down the hardwood floor, faster than any five year old should be. “You have your own room here?”
She throws open the first door we approach, bright pink stickers plastered to the outside. “Yup!” she says proudly, leading me in. “Uncle Gway said I could decorate it however I wanted.”
She abandons me at the door to jump onto her bed.
It’s quite big for a little girl, a king maybe.
It’s pretty funny watching her climb up onto it.
She starts jumping like it’s a trampoline.
She somehow avoids the dozens of stuffed animals stacked on top.
All unicorns, Mr. Sparkles Sugarplum Pinky Glitter Bum being front and center.
“Come on, Waisie,” she shrieks mid-jump.
I approach the large bed, acting like a wall just in case she falls. “Oh no, I think I would break your bed, sweetie.”
Her nose scrunches. “No, you wouldn’t, silly. Uncle Gway jumps on it with me all the time, and he’s way bigger than you.” She stretches her arms out wide again.
I hold in a laugh. If he heard what she just said, he probably would have something sassy to respond with. I plant my hands on my hips, pretending to think about it.
“Please! Please! Please!” she begs.
“Alright, but only because you asked so nicely.” I shuffle a few stuffies to the side and launch myself up with her. She grabs my hands, and we start hopping around like two schoolgirls at a slumber party.
I can’t lie, it's pretty fun. It makes me wonder if I will get to have kids of my own. I imagine a life settled down. The house of my dreams. The doting husband to come home to each night. Evie, of course, and maybe a dog added to the mix. A couple little ones running around, causing a ruckus.
Pure chaos.
The kind that reminds you you’re rich, but not in the typical fashion. Rich in love and laughs and experiences. Rich in life.
We spin in circles for what feels like hours, her bright pink walls giving me a headache in the process, but I wouldn’t change a thing. Just when I think I can’t take another minute, someone knocks on the door.
Research Notes: cowboys make great homes.