Page 11 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year
Ethan Wyatt wasn’treal, but that scar was. Two minutes ago, she would have sworn he was the kind of guy who would tell everyone his war stories, play them up for the ladies and the press, but Maggie had never heard a word about an injury. She’d only ever heard...
Come to think of it, Maggie had never heard anything about his past at all. And for the first time she had to wonder what was the bigger mystery: this trip or the man who was taking it with her?
When he turned, Maggie whirled in her seat and went back to her omelet. She didn’t ask a single question. She didn’t say a thing.
A Rolls-Royce was waiting on the tarmac and a hard wind was blowing off the sea as Maggie climbed down the jet stairs thirty minutes later. They were somewhere in the country, surrounded by miles of rugged coastline and frothy water and Maggie couldn’t help but shiver as she watched an older man climb out of the long black car and head toward them with a wave.
“Welcome!” He wore a tweed coat and a little tweed hat and looked like someone who would know what a marchioness was even if he’d never read a romance novelin his life. “Glad you made it. Good thing too. Before it gets a wee bit chilly.”
“This isnotchilly?” Maggie’s hair whipped wildly around her head and blew in her mouth. Even Ethan seemed disheveled, but with his collar turned up and his hair mussed, he just looked a little extra roguish—like he’d had a rough night, but thegoodkind—while Maggie stood there, trying to peel her hair off her tongue.
She was still spitting and flailing when she heard a chuckle and felt a hand on the small of her back. “Come on, Margaret Louise.”
The driver had gone for their luggage and Ethan was leaning around her, reaching for the door and pressing close enough to block the wind. He hadn’t shaved and dark stubble covered his jaw. He smelled like peppermint and smooth, soft leather, and even after she heard theclickand felt a rush of warm air at her back, Maggie just stood there, frozen.
“What?” Ethan looked like he didn’t know if? he should be amused or afraid.
“That’s not my name,” she said, because it was safer than admitting that she wanted to feel his stubble to see if it was as soft as it looked. She wanted to ask about his scar and his past and his secrets. She wanted to know how someone like Ethan was spending Christmas with someone like her, but the words froze on the wind, and all she could do was shake her head and crawl inside, then watch in confusion as he bent down to carefully tuck the hem of her coat where it wouldn’t slam in the door.
He started to rise, but stopped midway when he realized Maggie was staring. “You know, some women think I’m chivalrous.”
“Some women think the earth is flat.”
“Oh.” He bit back that million-dollar grin. “You wound me.”
Maggie smirked. “Is that an offer?”
A thousand scenarios flashed across his face when he said, “Maybe later.” And then he winked and slammed the door and Maggie tried to stop herself from smiling.
Chapter Seven
Twelve Years Ago
The first time Maggie met Colin Livingston he insisted on riding in the back seat. That was what she noticed first and remembered the longest. Not the frayed and beer-stained fraternity sweatshirt. Not the red-rimmed eyes and beleaguered grin of a guy who never rolled out of bed before ten.
But as she stood on the dormitory steps waiting for Emily, her smallest suitcase at her feet even though she’d had absolutely no idea what to pack for three weeks with a stranger’s family, her only goal was to take up as little space as possible, make as little noise as possible—to not eat too much or take showers that were too long or do any of a hundred things that might get her sent out into the cold by herself. Again.
So Maggie wasn’t sure what to think when a little red BMW came flying through the parking lot, then slammed on the brakes in front of her.
“I’m gonna change my name to Rudolph,” Emily chimed from behind the wheel. “Get in!”
Maggie wasn’t expecting a boy to climb out of the BMW’s passenger side. When he flipped the seat up, allowing entrance to the back, Maggie started to climb in, but he cut her off. “I’ll ride back there.” Then he practically folded himself in half to fit.
Some pop star’s version of a Christmas carol was coming out of the speakers and Emily turned down the volume. “New Friend Maggie meet Old Friend Colin.” She was wearing earrings that were tiny bells with sprigs of fresh mistletoe in them, and when she smiled and popped a bubble it didn’t even mess up her lip gloss. Maggie had never been so envious of anyone in her life.
Not because Emily had a BMWor pretty things or even someone she could introduce as “old friend.” It was more because Emily belonged. In that car. On that campus. In this world. In a way that Maggie never would.
Emily had spent the last week assuring Maggie that no one would mind one extra guest. She wasn’t an imposition. And she absolutely didn’t need to chip in for gas or food because Emily’s father managed a hedge fund and Emily’s mother managed Emily’s father, and between all their society friends and business acquaintances, chances were halfway decent they wouldn’t even notice Maggie was there. They certainly wouldn’t care.
“Colin’s family always spends Christmas with mine,” Emily explained.
“We have a house next door,” Colin chimed in from behind them.
“The three of us will be the only people under forty, and we’ll be glorious,” Emily said, then popped another bubble.
“Hey, Em—” Colin started, but Emily was already turning down the heat because she knew what he was going to say. She knewhim. And something about it made Maggie feel even lonelier.
“Are you...” Maggie looked back at the boy whose head brushed the ceiling. “Sure? That you want to ride back there? I don’t mind.”
