all night. Perhaps more than one. When I last saw him, he was sucking on someone’s neck with a hand in a place that makes me blush, just thinking about it.
“It was okay.” I try to appear unaffected and focus intently on measuring and pouring the ingredients into a bowl.
Damon leans back against the counter, his hands stuffed in his front pockets. He tilts his head sheepishly. “Really, I’m sorry if I crossed a line, Faye. I think I’m still drunk.”
He offers a small smile and blinks those dark, soulful eyes as a means of a white flag. And it’s frustratingly endearing.
Even after spending time with Damon on and off since meeting him Thursday night, I still have no idea what to make of him. He’s charming and sweet one minute and despicable and arrogant the next. The latter usually comes out to play after he’s been drinking. He runs a hand through his sandy hair, combing it back, the gel having given way long ago, so now it hangs in a wave to the side, sweeping across his handsome face.
“Truce?” he offers, pulling a hand out of a pocket for me to shake.
A ping reverberates off the tile. I turn toward it just as Maggie enters the kitchen, her short brown hair spiking around her head like she just crawled through a pile of blankets.
“Drop something?” she notes with a sweet, girlish bat of her lashes. She bends to pick up the ring that’s spinning in an endless circle at her feet. She rolls it in her fingers. “You don’t want to lose this.”
I’ve stopped mixing the batter, watching her approach him. He eyes her like a predator, licking his teeth, his charm warring with cunning. Maggie places the gold band in his palm, their skin touching a beat too long. The hairs on the back of my neck rise.
“Thank you,” he says, grinning like he knows a secret and wants her to get a little closer to whisper it in her ear—before sinking his teeth into her neck.
Maggie’s green eyes are electric, like a spark has lit her up from within.
She’s always been a flirt. I’ve accepted that it’s part of her personality. It’s not who she is but how she’s made. I’ve even seen her flirt with Niall, and that’s … disturbing. But she doesn’t mean anything by it. We’ve been friends long enough for me to know that. At this point, I’m convinced I know her as well as my sisters, maybe even better. And this … feels dangerous.
“Isaac wants chocolate chip waffles,” Parker announces, a sleepy Isaac trailing behind him.
I nearly drop the bowl that’s in my arms, alarmed by the boys’ entrance. I have no idea what’s got me so on edge this morning. “I’ll have to see if we have any chocolate chips.”
“I’ll look,” Maggie offers cheerily, disappearing into the pantry.
“Would you like some waffles too?” Parker asks Damon, who’s sliding the ring onto his finger.
“I think Uncle Damon needs to go to bed,” he tells Parker.
“But we’re already awake,” Parker argues, not understanding.
“Some of us for way too long,” he tells the boy, ruffling his dark hair. “See you later, Peach,” he says as he passes me, trailing a hand along my arm.
I shiver and instinctively pull away.
Footsteps descend the stairs. I turn in time to find Julia Thorne watching her husband teeter across the lawn toward the pool house. She sets a hand on her protruding stomach protectively, her eyes not leaving him until he’s found his way inside.
“Good morning,” she says with a warm smile.
I avert my eyes, pouring batter over the hot waffle iron, feeling like I’m the one betraying her. “Good morning. I’m making waffles. Would you care for some?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” she replies. “I can make scrambled eggs and bacon to go with them if you’d like.”
“That sounds great.”
“Found some!” Maggie declares, holding up the bag of chocolate chips in triumph.
The boys cheer from the table.
“You’re their hero,” I tell her when she sets the bag on the counter next to me.
“But am I your hero?” she asks, planting a kiss on my cheek. She smells of alcohol and something spicy, like faded guy’s cologne.
When she notices Julia cracking eggs into a bowl, she says, “Let me do that. I need to earn my keep.”
“Are you sure?” Julia questions uncertainly. “I don’t mind.” She makes an odd expression, her nose twitching. “What is that …” She leans toward Maggie, her eyes widening. “Oh, Faye,