lake, a hundred yards away from the shore where Ellie, Devin, and Maverick fished from a long dock. Every now and then, Maverick’s baritone laugh rolled over the water. Lizbeth slathered more sunscreen on her freckled shoulders and stared at Maverick from behind the aviator sunglasses I’d loaned her.
“Uh . . .”
“I have romance-dar. Whenever something romantic happens around me, I pick up on it like a satellite. I saw the way he was ogling you in the shop on Friday. Plus, you were wearing that really red lipstick, and you only do that when you’re really happy. And while I can’t confirm it, I have my suspicions that you didn’t sleep at home on Friday night, because the bed was still made when we got back. You never make the bed.”
“Whoa. No snap judgments.”
She held up two hands. “No one said the word sex, Bethany. Just sayin’.”
“Because there was none.”
She stared.
My response stalled in my throat, suspended like a rock. Maverick and I had made it abundantly clear that we weren’t dating, but that hadn’t stopped his hot look at me when he’d arrived. Or his intense study of my swimming suit.
How to explain that to Lizbeth when I wasn’t even sure I understood it? I’m crazy about him and want to date him with no hope of a future, didn’t sound great.
When Maverick showed up today, he’d laid a big, fat kiss on me while the girls were up in the car. I nearly lost all muscle control, which would have forced him to pick me up. Which, in hindsight, would have been great.
Missed opportunity.
“I know you have this whole back-and-forth thing going on,” she continued, “but I’m telling you, it’s getting old. Would you just admit it, already?”
“Not happening,” I muttered.
She flashed me an amused look.
I dipped my canoe paddle farther into the water, casting a dancing ripple on the surface. “I don’t know for sure what Maverick is thinking, but I know it’s not a relationship.”
“A flirt fest?”
“Ah . . .”
“Are you his friend?”
“Yes.”
“Client, for sure.”
My nose wrinkled. That didn’t throw us in an ideal light, and friend was a little too blah for me. Love interest sounded as exciting as middle-school crush.
“Do we have to label it?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I can tell you what he’s thinking,” she said, leaning back and setting a floppy straw hat on top of her head. Lizbeth was all easy grace, like a young Audrey Hepburn. “This is a classic romance, Bethie. He’s a troubled soldier returning from war with PTSD and a closed-off heart. Only the perfect, feisty woman who stands up to him when all the others won’t will steal his heart. Just be sure to refuse his kiss and not be impressed with the glorious state of his body.”
She clutched dramatically at her chest while I tilted my head back and laughed. Maverick had PTSD about something, all right, but I had my doubts it had anything to do with the war.
Her smug grin faded.
“Seriously, Bethie. Is he messing around, or what? Not that I’m complaining. I could listen to his voice all day, and Ellie isn’t as tense when he’s around. But he’s got to pee or get off the pot, you know?”
While I didn’t love the metaphor as it pertained to me, I could see where she was coming from. A thousand responses flooded my mouth, but I couldn’t say any of them. They all revolved around two unexpected attachments that had fallen into my lap weeks ago. I didn’t want Lizbeth to think they were a hardship in my life.
Besides, Maverick would roll through here once he finished his grandpa’s cabin, girls or no girls.
“He’s not the committing type,” I said. “He mentioned not even having a place to live while he travels around fixing businesses. I hardly think he’d want to be calling home to a girlfriend while he gets his company off the ground. What we have is just . . . for fun.”
Lizbeth lifted a hand as if I’d proven a point. “He’s the stereotype! I told you.”
“He is not,” I muttered, splashing her with my oar. “He isn’t troubled.”
“But his heart is closed.”
“His heart is . . . fine.”
She smirked when the answer stuttered out of me, then her expression became serious again. “Maybe he’s never felt love.”
I groaned. “Those romances are filling your brain with utter mush. They’re going to take you away from me if I don’t start giving you something of substance to read.”
A flash