Page 33 of Wildflowers & Whiskey

Sarcastic bastard.

“And where’s Maeve? Ain’t she supposed to be doing this?”

“I don’t know Colt. I was told to come here and do it. Just following instructions. Avoiding an ass-kicking”

“Told by who?”

“Who do you think?” A moment goes by before he answers his own question, “Wade.”

If Wade needs someone else to do the job, does this mean she’s gone?

Panic boils in me as I leg it back to the main house, hoping that someone is there to give me answers. I fling the front door open, and race up the stairs, not even bothering to look in the kitchen. I come face to face with Maeve’s bedroom door, and just as my hand is about to knock, I hear her laugh.

The laugh that automatically makes me feel a hundred times lighter.

I follow the sweet sound, turning the corner into the office. Only to be met with the sight I least expected to see.

Maeve curls in the big brown leather chair, her small frame barely covering the back of the seat, while Wade leans over her. His body close to hers… Too close. His arm stretches past her to grip the mouse, showing her something on the computer screen. She’s looking up at him with the most radiant smile on her face. The opposite of how disconnected she seemed yesterday. And I swear, I can see a slight smile on Wade’s face.

What the actual fuck.

I clear my throat loud enough for them to snap their heads in my direction. Wade jerks back, pulling away from Maeve, like he has been caught in a heinous act.

“What’s going on here?” I force out a laugh, hoping it covers whatever concoction of emotions I have experienced in the last forty-odd minutes since leaving therapy.

“Oh, hi Colt!” Maeve beams. Christ, she is a sight when she smiles like that. “Wade finally caved and is giving me more responsibilities!”

Is that so? Maybe Maeve’s charm does work on everyone.

Wade backs away from the desk, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “Yeah, she’ll be handling stock intake and ordering now.”

There’s something unsteady in his voice that I’ve never heard before. “Was just showing her that spreadsheet you set up for tracking stock, then I gotta walk her through the order sheets. Won’t take long.”

“I can take over,” I say, trying not to sound too eager. “Surely you have better places to be. Besides, Maeve is my responsibility.”

Maeve’s eyebrow archers, her head tilting with that look that says she’s no one’s responsibility.

Wade shrugs and saunders toward me, aiming for the door. “You’re right. Have at it,” he says with sharpness. “Make sure she’s confident before you let her crack on without being supervised.”

“Excuse me, she is right here,” Maeve bites, fire flashing in her eyes. “And I am sure if you boys can manage, it can’t be that complicated.”

Relief floods through me hearing that sharp tongue of hers, a sign that she is back to her normal self. I hope.

I move toward the desk, taking Wade’s place beside her. Standing just as close to her, letting her sweet scent of cherries drift up from her hair, making my pulse quicken and something I try to ignore harden.

As I lean over to reach the mouse, Maeve shifts right to give me space. Her shoulder brushes against my arm, and I have to concentrate on breathing steadily.

“Did Wade's explanation make sense, or do you need me to go over the stock intake again?” I ask, pulling up the order sheets.

“Nah, I am all good there! Spreadsheets are like my superpower,” she laughs, “I have one for everything.”

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a spreadsheet nerd,” I tease, nudging her shoulder gently, testing the waters between us.

“There’s still a lot you don’t know about me, golden boy,” she smirks back.

“Golden boy?” I shift toward her, positioning myself where I can see her face illuminated by the computer screen’s glow. The light catches the green-and-blue flecks in her eyes.

“Consider it a nickname. Blond sweet boy; fits you perfectly, if you ask me”