them.
Until Griffin looked up. His green gaze caught on Maggie, the heat from it like being stabbed with a hot poker.
“What part of ‘don’t turn around’ confused you?” Brenna muttered under her breath.
“It’s fine,” Maggie said, her voice weak as she faced forward again. “Who is she?”
“Maggie?”
Heat pooled low in her belly at the sound of Griffin’s rich baritone. Pathetic. She was the most pathetic woman on the planet. This man had rejected her four months ago. She had no reason to be twitter-pated over him. She had no reason to feel anything for him. To borrow from one of Maggie’s favorite old-school pop songs, tell that to her heart.
But she spun around, pasting a bright smile on her face. “Hey, Griffin. How’s it hang—”
She yelped when Brenna pinched the back of her arm. Hard.
“Hey,” Griffin said slowly, darting a dubious glance between the two of them. “I’m...um...doing fine. How are you?”
“Hunky-dory,” she said, then inwardly cringed as Brenna groaned. “I’m fine, too,” she amended, her cheeks feeling like they’d just caught fire. “Fine.”
“Great.” Griffin nodded and she watched his throat bob as he swallowed. “I wanted to introduce you to an old friend.” He indicated the woman standing next to him. “This is Cassie Barlow. Cassie’s an interior designer up in Seattle. We’ve worked on a few projects together over the years.”
Is that what the kids are calling it now? Maggie thought to herself. She held out a hand, her cheeks aching from the perma-grin plastered across her face. “Nice to meet you.”
“You, too,” the woman said, her eyes bright. “Great butterfly.”
Seriously, could cheek muscles grow so hard they cracked? “I had my face painted,” Maggie said, then sighed. Master of the obvious. How charming.
“My daughter demanded it,” Brenna offered quickly. “Maggie did it for Ellie.”
Griffin introduced Brenna to Cassie and then Cassie turned to Maggie again. “Grif tells me you’re mayor of this town.”
Grif. She called him Grif. Oh, yeah. They worked together. Worked together on getting busy, most likely.
Maggie blinked when she realized everyone was staring at her. “Yes, mayor,” she agreed like an imbecile. “I’m mayor.”
Cassie tilted her head and Maggie thought the other woman must think her the biggest ninny she’d ever met. But Cassie’s eyes remained kind. It was ridiculously difficult to hate someone with such kind eyes.
Ellie ran up to Brenna at that moment, her face painted in black and orange stripes. The girl held up her hands like claws and growled at her mom, then turned to Maggie and roared loudly.
“I’m ferocious,” she announced.
Maggie cowered in mock fear, never so grateful for the interruption. “Oh, scary tiger,” she said, making her voice tremble. “Have mercy on this little butterfly.”
“You’re too tiny for me to eat,” Ellie said with a nod. “I better go get a corn dog.”
Maggie grinned, then looked up at Griffin and Cassie. “You heard the tiger. We’ve got to feed her before she starves.”
“It was lovely to meet you,” Cassie said softly.
“You, too,” Maggie agreed. She gave a casual wave. “See you around, Grif.”
Griffin gave a sharp nod but didn’t respond.
And even though Maggie wanted nothing more than to escape this awkward interaction, she couldn’t quite force her legs to walk away from him until Ellie took her hand and tugged.
“She thinks we’re together,” Cassie murmured as Maggie disappeared into the crowd milling about the town square.
“We are together.” Griffin unclenched his hands, which had ended up fisted at his sides, and concentrated on keeping his expression neutral. It took every bit of willpower he possessed to watch Maggie turn away. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her close and bury his face in her hair, breathing in her flowery scent.
“As in we’re dating.” Cassie rolled her eyes.
“We’re not dating,” Griffin said as if his old friend needed clarification. “We haven’t dated for years.”
Cassie smacked him hard on the shoulder. “I know that, you idiot. Your Maggie doesn’t.”
“She’s not mine,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. He continued to stare in the direction Maggie had walked. Every few seconds he’d get a glimpse of her caramel-colored hair or a flash of the bright butterfly painted on her cheek as she turned to say something to Brenna. This was the first time he’d seen her since he’d ended what was between them. Ended it before it had really had a chance to start.
Stonecreek was a small town and, as mayor, Maggie was a very visible resident. He’d holed up at the vineyard for most of the summer, repairing the damage to the tasting room from the fire that Maggie’s sister had accidentally started when her plans for teenage seduction had gone awry.
Cole Maren, the boy Morgan Spencer had set her sights on that night, had worked tirelessly at Griffin’s side. Despite the kid’s past and less-than-desirable family situation, Cole seemed determined to stay on the right track. Griffin wished he’d made that choice when he was younger. It had taken him years of running from the stupidity of his youth to straighten out his mind and soul.
A weight settled in his chest like a lead balloon as he watched Maggie and he wondered how successful he’d actually been.
“You look at each other,” Cassie said, moving toward a vendor selling handmade soaps and lotions, “like you belong together.”
“You don’t understand how it is in Stonecreek,” Griffin said with a sigh.
Cassie dabbed a sample of lemon-scented lotion on her hands, turning to Griffin as she rubbed it into her skin. “What’s there to understand? You care about her. She cares about you. All that other family history stuff is just noise. It doesn’t have to matter, Grif. Trust me. I’m all about cutting away things that don’t matter these days.”
Griffin opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. Cassie had paid this unexpected visit to him to share that she’d been diagnosed with a brain tumor. She was due to start treatment in Seattle in a couple of days and said the doctors had given her a great prognosis. But the news had changed her—maybe for the better—as she seemed at peace in a way he hadn’t ever known her to be.
“You have to try,” Cassie urged.
He glanced beyond her and spotted Maggie talking to a tall guy who looked to be in his midthirties. Brenna stood a few feet away watching Ellie play in the bouncy house, like she was trying to give Maggie and the stranger space. The man handed Maggie his phone and she punched something into it. Her number, Griffin assumed, and felt adrenaline stab his gut.
“Give me a few minutes,” he told his friend, earning a wide smile.
“I’ll meet you in front of the stage,” Cassie agreed. “The band is starting in a few minutes.”
He nodded and headed in Maggie’s direction, absently waving to the people who called out greetings.
“We need to talk,” he told her, moving to stand between her and the man.
Her fine brows furrowed. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Maggie,” he coaxed. “It won’t