Sandcastle Beach (Matchmaker Bay #3) - Jenny Holiday Page 0,98
to me.”
He lifted a shoulder and let it fall.
“And you undercharge me.”
“No, I charge you the friends-and-family rate.” Which wasn’t a thing, but whatever. He turned to evasive measures. “How’s the show been going?”
“The show has been going shockingly well. There have been a few blips, but Holden seems to perform better under pressure than he does normally.”
“So you and Holden are…”
She raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking if your little scene the other night drove a wedge between me and my star?”
“I guess I am.”
“He’s been a little frosty, but I think he’s mostly shaken it off. He’s still doing his thing, drawing the crowds. This was night three of a sold-out house. That has never happened.”
“That’s great.”
He was genuinely happy for her. But he didn’t need to express it like that. That would be giving away too much in the war he was going to assume they were still waging until he had evidence to suggest otherwise. So instead he went with a joke. “So probably you’re here to tell me you’re withdrawing from the grant competition because you don’t need the money anymore?”
He expected sass, but she leaned forward and whispered, “Actually, I’m here because I was wondering if you wanted to have sex again.”
Oh shit. He had to grab the edge of the bar to steady himself, he was so shocked by the question. The answer, however, was right there at the top of his consciousness: Yes, indeed I do. “Now?” he asked.
She mimicked his earlier half shrug but infused it with a big dose of coyness.
“Carter!” he shouted. He made an effort to lower his voice when Carter, who was scheduled to go home soon, looked over, alarmed. “Any chance you can close?” God, Brie couldn’t get here fast enough. If this thing with Maya was going to become an actual thing, he needed more nights off. Carter made a thumbs-up sign, and Law grabbed his keys and phone from behind the bar and made a “Let’s go” motion.
“But I’m not done with my wine.” Said the woman who had just implied that now would be her preferred time for getting it on.
He came around the bar, picked up the glass, and leaned over to whisper in her ear. “The nice thing about sleeping with the bartender is you can take your wine to go.”
She grinned, and they headed for the back door.
Which was blocked by Sawyer and Eve.
Dammit.
Maya saw them at the same time he did and did a funny little pirouette. “Front door,” she muttered.
He followed her, but once they were on the sidewalk out front, she said, “Actually, maybe we should go to my room at the Mermaid. How do we know they won’t see us sneaking up the back stairs? And since we know they’re here, they won’t be at the inn.”
“Good thinking. You have condoms at your place?”
“I do.”
Which was how he found himself power walking down Main Street holding a full glass of Riesling that wasn’t on his menu. As they mounted the stairs at the Mermaid, he said, “Do you want to talk about this at all?”
“Do I want to talk about what?”
Oh, for God’s sake. “I don’t know. The fact that we were enemies a week ago and now we’re sleeping together?”
“What is there to talk about? We’re enemies who sleep together.” She smiled. “Enemies with benefits.”
“Is that like friends with benefits?”
“No, it is not. Because enemies are not friends. Did you fail reading comprehension in grade school?”
“I know, I just—”
“Friends with benefits never works. Friends are too…friendly. They end up catching feelings.”
He couldn’t argue with that. Case in point number one: Sawyer and Eve. Case in point number two: Jake and Nora. “But ‘enemies’ feels so harsh. Are we actually enemies?”
“Is one of us going to win the town grant over the other one? Does one of us steal parking spaces and have an oven that belches smoke, both of which infringe on the business operations of the other?”
She was so dramatic. They hadn’t really argued about anything—not really—for quite some time. But whatever. She was right that they weren’t friends. Friendly did not at all feel like the word to describe his feelings for Maya.
“Wow,” he said as she ushered him into her room. It was an explosion of pink: cotton candy pink on the walls and fuchsia floor tiles.
“Ah, yes, behold the Barbie Dream Room. Decorated by Eve when she was a kid.”
“I’ve heard about this.” He spun slowly in place. “Why didn’t she