Page 22 of Fanged Temptation

“Soooo,” I started, simply to fill the silence. I cocked my head to the side, angling my chin towards the miniature kitchen. “Coffee?”

“Is it flavored?” That scandalized look on her face had me wondering what the flavored coffee industry had done to wrong her personally.

“Uh, no?” I slunk into the kitchenette, which was really just a mini fridge, a few cupboards and a low counter separating the small space from the living room. “It’s just… coffee.”

“Oh.” Maxine’s eyes tracked me across the creaking floorboards and she rearranged her flighty fingers in her lap. “Then yes. Please.”

I eyed her over the counter, one hand rummaging for a can of coffee beans on the sagging shelf. “Are you all right? You’re less bubbly than usual.”

At that comment, Maxine’s spine straightened and she quickly rearranged her expression with a dazzling smile, equivalent to tossing a handful of glitter in my face. But the razzle-dazzle did not work on me.

“Oh, I’m fine!” she chimed, throwing her hands up like the whole thing was some great joke. “I’ve just been feeling under the weather lately, and you know all those old books where the woman comes down with some sort of malaise and they send her away to the sea to feel better? I was thinking maybe I should try that. But there aren’t any suitable beachfronts nearby so then I thoughtLeah has a boat, and so I came straight to you… you see?”

“I see.” I did not see.

I studied her, the setting sun casting long shadows across the cabin, turning her usually vibrant figure into a silhouette of secrets. I wanted to press her, to demand the truth, but something in her demeanor stopped me. She was on edge, maybe even scared.

I tossed a handful of coffee beans into the ancient hand-grinder – an heirloom gift from my grandfather, bestowed with much fanfare – gnawing on my bottom lip. I turned the idea over in my head. Maxine on my boat, hiding out for reasons she wouldn't disclose, felt like the setup to a mystery I wasn't sure I wanted to solve.

But then again, her proximity didn’t have to be a bad thing. It would make it easier to do what I inevitably had to do. I ignored the twinge of guilt that followed that thought, concentrating on grinding the coffee.

“You can–” I paused, weighing my moral compass against my burgeoning feelings for the woman in front of me, then sighed. “You can stay as long as you want.”

Maxine’s smile was genuine this time, faint relief simmering behind her eyes.

“Thank you, Leah!” She jumped to her feet and skipped over to me, throwing her arms around my neck. “This is going to be great!”

The sudden embrace left me breathless and stuttering, but Maxine was already turning on her heel, surveying the small interior. “First things first, this place could do with some redecorating.”

I slammed a fist down on the counter, rattling the coffee beans along with the rest of the boat. “Absolutely not!’

When the day crept to a close and night set in, I found myself unfolding the small sleeper couch into a makeshift bed for Maxine, who looked on in slight discomfort – though she examined the small reading lamp I’d handed her with mild curiosity, flicking it on and off until I scowled in her direction.

She looked out of her depth, lingering at my elbow, dressed in one of my old t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants that were miles too long for her legs. The contrast between her usual refined appearance and her current state was stark. With her hair tumbling loose and her makeup wiped away, she looked more like a regular person and less like a glammed-up porcelain doll.

"Are you sure you'll be comfortable here?" I asked, fluffing a scruffy pillow not nearly fluffy enough for my liking.

Maxine managed a small smile, perching on the edge of the newly made bed and tucking her bare feet beneath her. "It's perfect." Her eyes roamed the limited space, landing on the small windows that showed only darkness beyond.

I sat down across from her, tentatively broaching the topic. "So, you want to tell me what's really going on?"

Maxine looked away, her fingers picking at a loose thread on the blanket. "I just... needed a change of scenery.”

I frowned, swatting at her hand before she could fiddle with the reading lamp again. "Maxine, people don't just crash on someone's boat for a change of scenery. Especially not people like you."

She laughed, a sound that held little humor. "People like me?"

"Yeah, you know, fancy people.” I gestured to all of her. “People who don't own sweatpants.”

She gave me a rueful look. "I own sweatpants."

We both knew she was dodging the question. When she dropped her gaze I shifted closer, our knees almost touching. "Whatever it is that’s got you on edge, you can tell me."

When she finally looked up, my breath caught, my heart stuttering to a halt. Up close her eyes were gorgeous, deep molten chocolate flecked with amber turned gold in the warm lamplight. For a moment, there was a charge in the air, a tension that was as much about the unsaid as it was about the proximity.

Her pupils were blown wide and something flickered there – fear, gratitude. Maybe something more.

Or maybe you’re just seeing what you want to see.I shoved the thought aside, swallowing around the heartbeat in my throat. Therewassomething more – in the way she looked at me. That all familiar affection that sent my stomach fluttering. But that only made things worse.

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