there’s no mistaking her words. “But then I think about the last time I saw him, and I can’t let myself forgive him for what he did.”
I don’t know why I have this yearning deep within me to make things right between Maggie and her father. The last thing either of them probably want is me getting in the middle of their issues. “Monica and him seem to be getting along,” I start, but then I shut up before I can finish my thought. That was probably the wrong thing to say.
Maggie’s sharp caramel eyes turn from the field to me. “I don’t mean to be rude, but can we talk about something else?”
“Sure,” I say slowly as she reaches for the hot dog and pulls it out of the wrapper. Her foot taps quickly against the concrete as she rips open the condiment wrappers, one by one, with her teeth, and then decorates the dog. I have the strangest feeling that she doesn’t even know she’s preparing to eat the damn thing.
I reach for the camera around my neck and focus on her glossy pink lips. Her mouth is marginally parted, her perfectly trimmed nails have a firm grip on her bun, and her cute button nose is currently inhaling her food.
There’s something so innocent about the picture through the lens. On the surface, it’s just a woman and her hot dog. But I can’t escape the stirring feeling in my gut when I look deeper. There’s something lonely, yet flawless about how Maggie appears to me now: seemingly unwanted, perfect beneath the mask of artificial condiments, yet toxic because one taste of her will only spell trouble. But damn, I want to spread her, taste her, and swallow her whole.
Jesus. I swallow and try to shake away my dirty thoughts. In my defense, it’s been a long time since I’ve found true pleasure in a woman. Sure, there was that one time with Faye months ago, but a little fucking around in a hotel opposed to a whole night of tantric fucking are on two different scales of orgasm. And I want the good kind, the mind-blowing sex that fills me repeatedly and becomes an all-night fuck-a-thon.
I’m not supposed to have those kinds of thoughts or feelings about Maggie for so many reasons that I’m starting to lose track of them all. But today isn’t about sex. It’s about learning how I can work and live near Maggie for the foreseeable future. She may not like me, but she doesn’t have to hate me. She’ll at least have to tolerate me if I’m going to be her boss and her landlord.
I don’t know how many photos I snap before Maggie’s head snaps toward me. Her eyes fly wide, and she gulps down her next bite then slams a palm an inch from the lens. “What are you doing?”
I lower the camera and laugh. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You were really enjoying your meal.”
Maggie’s face is bright red, and while I know I caught her off guard, her reaction scares me a little.
“Delete those photos.” Her tone drips with warning, but I’m too locked up in confusion to take her seriously.
“What?” I shake my head. She’s out of her mind. “No.”
“Desmond Blake, delete those photos now, or I will leave.”
My jaw drops. “Maggie, stop. They’re good photos. Look.” I hold the camera up, display side facing her, and tap through each photo. Each one is aimed more at the hot dog she’s holding than on her. “I was capturing your food. That’s all.” I fail to mention how nice her lips look in the photo. Apparently, I don’t need to because she already appears to be calming down.
She sits back in her seat and narrows her eyes at me. “Next time, ask my permission first.”
I can agree to that. “I will. I promise.” I lower my camera to my lap and assess her. “Jeez. Aren’t models used to having their picture taken?”
“I quit modeling, remember?” With that, she shoves the rest of her hot dog in her mouth and chews before finishing off her drink. Then she shoves her empty cup against my chest. “Beer me.”
I take it from her and stand with a light chuckle. The lines will be crazy since there’s only twenty minutes to go until game time, but I think I can still make it back before kickoff. “Anything else? Cotton Candy? Red Licorice?” I tease.