Page 35 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year
“You’re freezing.” His voice was soft but slightly smug. “Lucky for you, I brought your sweater. Hands up.”
That’s when she noticed the bundle of items he held under one arm.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Maggie said, but she was starting to shake as she stood there, arms wrapped around herself, hands balled up in her sleeves.
“You know, you’re going to hurt Kitty’s feelings. She knitted these herself.”
“Really?”
Ethan shook his head.“I have no idea. Now up.” Maggie didn’t move. “Are you going to fight me, Margaret Jane?”
She felt like a petulant child but it was faster to stick her hands in the air and allow the world’s most annoying man to tug a Christmas sweater over her head and gently work it down her arms. Her hair was standing on end and full of static by the time her head popped through. She felt ridiculous and he was looking at her like he would have given anything for a camera. A phone. Anything to immortalize her humiliation. But the worst part was that the smile Ethan gave her wasn’t mocking. It was indulgent and kind and it made Maggie’s fingers tingle. Either that or she was developing frostbite. Maggie hoped it was the latter.
“Thank you.” She looked down at the snow.
“Any time.” Then he draped a heavy coat around her shoulders like a cape. “James let me borrow these. They’re Eleanor’s favorites.” He pulled a fuzzy wool hat with a pom-pom on top from his pocket and tugged it over her ears.
Maggie hated to admit it, but she really was warmer, maybe because of the clothes or, more likely, because Ethan was better than the hedges at blocking the wind.
“Great. Thank you.”
But then he gripped the coat’s lapel and pulled her closer.
“Now about that mistletoe...”
“Ugh.” Maggie blew out a frustrated breath and headed back the way they’d come. “You’re right. Let’s go in.”
“So why the maze?”
“No reason!”
Dead end. Darn it!And, of course, Ethan was right behind her. She was stuck, trapped. And she could feel him moving closer; the heat of his gaze was going to burn.
“You know, you’re not a very good liar.”
She wasn’t, but that was hardly the time to start agreeing with him. “I don’t know what you’re talking—”
“What was in the book, Margaret?”
Oh no.“What book?”
“The one in the library.”
“There are thousands of books in the library.It’s a library.”
“See? You get a little line right”—he pointed to her forehead— “here when you lie.”
“Hey!”
“So what was up with the phone call?” His gaze shifted from her eyes to her lips, then back again. Slowly. “Because it sounded to me like you think this is all some kind of...test.”
The word was low and crisp, little more than frosty breath, but Maggie watched it hang in the air like a snowflake. She thought it might not fall.
And, suddenly, she didn’t care. It didn’t matter if he knew they were running a race. It didn’t matter if he sprinted ahead. It didn’t matter.
Because Maggie was going to win.
“Why are you smiling right now?” He actually sounded afraid.
