Page 20 of The Goode Girls of Maple Lane
“Yep.” I inch backward over my threshold. “Brownies. From scratch. Grandma’s recipe. Famous. So good. Ran out of. Obviously. Anyway.” I take another step back, reaching behind me for my doorknob, unable to take my eyes off Everett and his date, who’s glancing between us with a little too much curiosity for my liking. “Never mind. You’re busy. Hi. Sorry. Cameron. Everett’s neighbor. Haveagreatnightseeyoulater!” I swing my door shut, slowing it just enough to prevent slamming it before sinking to the floor with my face in my hands, muttering curses.
Sure, it was only an embrace. They weren’t all over each other like The Lovers, and I don’t want to leap to too many hasty conclusions here, but I definitely witnessed an intimate moment, and I should at least allow for the most obvious reason for that intimacy.
So what if Everett bought me dinner? And a really thoughtful book? And he went out of his way to help me with Aggie? He also hauls lonely plants out of alleys and rescues discarded sweaters.He’s a nice guy. That doesn’t mean he’s interested in or attracted to me.
“This is why dogs are better than people,” I tell Aggie. “No guessing games. No major misunderstandings. No romantic relationships that somehow never came up in conversation.”
She watches me from her bin with concern in her eyes, and understandably so. She probably has emotional whiplash from seeing me exit the apartment elated, only to return ten seconds later in the throes of dejection. I crawl over and bury my face in her neck, raking my fingers through her soft, thick fur while I reiterate that she is, in absolute fact, the best dog in the universe.
Fifteen minutes later, I’ve hauled her onto the futon—a new thing we’re trying—and we’re watchingThe Proposalwith my feet kicked up on the coffee table, her head on my lap, and the bitter sting of jealousy slowly ebbing with the help of sharp banter and a storyline with a guaranteed happy ending, when I hear a light knock on my door.
I tense at the sound, snapping into fight-or-flight mode, or really, just flight. Despite a growing acquaintance with Khalil, I’m pretty sure only one person would knock on my door after 8 p.m., and while I want to hear what Everett has to say, I’m not up for talking to him right now, not when I’m so raw. I’d rather wait until I can at least pretend to be happy for him.
“Stay really, really still,” I whisper to Aggie. “Maybe he won’t realize we’re here.”
She blinks at me, her head still resting on my lap as I set a finger to my lips. On-screen, Ryan and Sandra bicker a little too loudly for my liking, though I can’t exactly mute them now.
“Cameron?” Everett’s voice comes through my door. “Aggie?”
Her head jerks up and she lets out a happy bark. Traitor.
I shoot her a glare. “Fine. Have it your way. But no more flirting with him!”
The look she gives me suggests this is a futile request, which I suspected before I made it, so I resign myself to my fate, give her a quick scratch on the head, and get up to answer the door. I assume I’ll find Everett with his hands jammed into his corduroy pockets and an apologetic look on his face, prepared to talk. Instead, I find him with his arms full of baking supplies.
“Hi,” he says. “From what I’ve seen of your kitchen, I figured if you really wanted to make brownies, you probably needed more than flour. I’m also a pretty decent baker if you want some company and you’re up for diverging from your grandma’s famous recipe.”
“I don’t have a recipe,” I admit.
“I kind of figured.”
“And I wasn’t baking anything.”
“I figured that, too.”
“And I barely knew either of my grandmothers before they died.”
“That... is new information. And maybe something we can talk about?” He adjusts the unwieldy baking supplies in his arms as he manages a smile, though it looks conflicted.
I don’t manage a smile. And I’m definitely conflicted.
“Everett—”
“Can I come in? Please? I think it’s important.” He pleads with his pretty hazel eyes.
I take a breath, wonder if I’m up for this, glance over my shoulder to find Aggie watching us with her head resting on the back of the futon, and decide there’s no such thing as an ideal time tohear Everett tell me about his girlfriend or date or whatever she is to him. Might as well get it over with.
“Okay.” I step back from the door so he can enter. “But only if you’re serious about baking.”
He steps past me and heads to the kitchen. “Did you have cereal for dinner again?”
I notice the open box of Raisin Bran on the counter at the same time he does.
“I wasn’t feeling inspired,” I tell him.
“Then let’s see if we can change that.”
I frown at him, unsure I can handle his sweetness right now, not while I’m trying to eradicate feelings I haven’t even fully identified yet. Aggie has no such qualms, wagging her tail as he empties his arms and then gives her a proper greeting, scratching her ears and asking if she’s been up to no good, and if she hasn’t been up to no good, what is she waiting for?
