Page 31 of The Mistletoe Bluff
“That’s very un-Maya-like of you.”
“What are you talking about?”
He gave a shrug. “Fake dating is so against the Maya I know. Your heart is like Jericho, and you keep it that way on purpose. Even if it is fake, there’s an opportunity for real feelings to develop, and you avoidthoselike the plague.”
His view of Maya intrigued me. It was all things I had suspected or observed about her. Maybe Jameson would fill me in on why Maya kicked me out of her apartment after asking her what I thought was a harmless question.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Maya scoffed, though she blushed.
Jameson opened his mouth to argue, but Elsie put her hand over his.
“Leave her be. She has her reasons, and it’s not our place to judge.” She turned her brown eyes to her best friend. “But, while I won’t judge, I also won’t sit back and let you ruin this fake dating thing. I think it will be good for you.” Elsie took a sip of her drink. “So, start acting like you’re dating.”
“Is this how it was when I meddled in your relationship?” Maya asked, glaring daggers at her.
“Yes,” Jameson and Elsie answered in unison, without hesitation.
Just as Maya opened her mouth, likely to say something she’d regret, a giant platter of cake smothered in vanilla ice cream was delivered to our table. I had taken a risk, ordering it before we even sat down for dinner, but I wanted to do something nice for Maya, and it was the best I could do with what I had to work with.
The three others looked at it with giant saucer eyes.
“I didn’t order that,” Elsie breathed.
“Me neither,” Maya said.
Jameson wasted no time in picking up a spoon and digging in. I followed suit.
Maya looked at me and I admitted, “My sweet tooth is gigantic.” Then I shoved a huge bite of cake into my mouth, delighted as she watched every second of it. I might have exaggerated dragging my lips over the spoon to drive her crazy.
Would that even drive her crazy?
Or was Maya unaffected by my attempts at wooing her?
Wooing her? What is wrong with me?
“Thanks, man,” Jameson said through a mouthful of ice cream, fist bumping me across the table.
“No worries, mate.”
“Mate,” Jameson repeated before shoving another bite in his mouth. “How long have you been in America?”
I swallowed down a big bite of cake before answering. “I lived here for about six months a year and a half ago. That’s when I met Maya in our photography class. I went back to London for a year to finish up some work projects, but I’m here for the foreseeable future.”
I did not miss the way Maya’s gaze snapped to me at that little nugget of information.
“What brings you to Meridel of all places?” Elsie asked.
Maya stiffened beside me, her head tilting, listening to my answer as she played with the ice cream on the plate.
“My mum lives close by. She spends half the year here to spend more time with her family, and the other half in England. I joined her last year, which was why I gave the photography class a try.”
“You must be one heck of a photographer if you beat Maya in that contest.”
I was fully aware of the blush creeping back over Maya’s cheeks, her eyes studying where she squeezed her hands in her lap.
Taking a chance, I grabbed one of Maya’s hands, interlacing our fingers. “Maya is an incredible photographer. She easily should have won.”
She didn’t pull her hand away, though she was stiff as a board, her palm clammy.
