smacked him hard on the shoulder. “I know that, you idiot. Your Maggie doesn’t.”
“She’s not mine,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets. He continued to stare in the direction Maggie had walked. Every few seconds he’d get a glimpse of her caramel-colored hair or a flash of the bright butterfly painted on her cheek as she turned to say something to Brenna. This was the first time he’d seen her since he’d ended what was between them. Ended it before it had really had a chance to start.
Stonecreek was a small town and, as mayor, Maggie was a very visible resident. He’d holed up at the vineyard for most of the summer, repairing the damage to the tasting room from the fire that Maggie’s sister had accidentally started when her plans for teenage seduction had gone awry.
Cole Maren, the boy Morgan Spencer had set her sights on that night, had worked tirelessly at Griffin’s side. Despite the kid’s past and less-than-desirable family situation, Cole seemed determined to stay on the right track. Griffin wished he’d made that choice when he was younger. It had taken him years of running from the stupidity of his youth to straighten out his mind and soul.
A weight settled in his chest like a lead balloon as he watched Maggie and he wondered how successful he’d actually been.
“You look at each other,” Cassie said, moving toward a vendor selling handmade soaps and lotions, “like you belong together.”
“You don’t understand how it is in Stonecreek,” Griffin said with a sigh.
Cassie dabbed a sample of lemon-scented lotion on her hands, turning to Griffin as she rubbed it into her skin. “What’s there to understand? You care about her. She cares about you. All that other family history stuff is just noise. It doesn’t have to matter, Grif. Trust me. I’m all about cutting away things that don’t matter these days.”
Griffin opened his mouth to argue, then shut it again. Cassie had paid this unexpected visit to him to share that she’d been diagnosed with a brain tumor. She was due to start treatment in Seattle in a couple of days and said the doctors had given her a great prognosis. But the news had changed her—maybe for the better—as she seemed at peace in a way he hadn’t ever known her to be.
“You have to try,” Cassie urged.
He glanced beyond her and spotted Maggie talking to a tall guy who looked to be in his midthirties. Brenna stood a few feet away watching Ellie play in the bouncy house, like she was trying to give Maggie and the stranger space. The man handed Maggie his phone and she punched something into it. Her number, Griffin assumed, and felt adrenaline stab his gut.
“Give me a few minutes,” he told his friend, earning a wide smile.
“I’ll meet you in front of the stage,” Cassie agreed. “The band is starting in a few minutes.”
He nodded and headed in Maggie’s direction, absently waving to the people who called out greetings.
“We need to talk,” he told her, moving to stand between her and the man.
Her fine brows furrowed. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on, Maggie,” he coaxed. “It won’t take long.”
“Everything okay?” the stranger asked.
Maggie looked around Griffin and smiled at the man. “Just a little bit of bothersome town business.”
Griffin felt his eyes narrow.
“It was nice meeting you, James,” she said sweetly.
“I’ll call you next week,” the man answered, and Griffin’s hand itched to deck the guy.
Maggie held up her index finger to someone behind Griffin—Brenna, he guessed—then looked up at him, her gray eyes cool. “So talk.”
“Not here.” Before she could protest, he circled her wrist with his hand and led her away from the crowd.
“Is this necessary?” she asked tartly.
“You sound like your grandma when you use that snippy tone,” he said, flashing a smile at her.
She glared in return.
He continued to the edge of the park that took up one full square block in the middle of downtown Stonecreek and moved around the side of the town hall building.
“Griffin, what are you doing?” She dug in her heels and tugged her wrist from his grasp.
He turned and could see the freckles that sprinkled her nose and upper cheeks and the bits of gold around the edges of her eyes. He smelled the light scent of her shampoo and damn if he didn’t want to press his face into the crook of her neck. As much as he thought he had his feelings under control, the reality of this moment still slammed through him with the force of a tornado.
Then she licked her lips and it was too much. All of it. The return to Stonecreek, the acrimony he couldn’t manage to fix with Trevor, their mother’s expectations and the constant undercurrent of his past mistakes that seemed to follow him everywhere, trailing behind like a child’s blanket.
He did the only thing he could think of in the moment.
He pressed his lips to Maggie’s mouth. It was perfect. Her softness, the sweet taste of apples, the feel of her body so close to him. All of it perfect.
Until she slapped him.
She shook out her hand, seeming as shocked by her reaction as he was. His cheek stung, although he figured he deserved that snap of pain and so much more.
“You kissed me.” The words were an accusation and he had the good sense to realize how out of line he’d been.
“I’m sorry.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
She made a noise in the back of her throat that might have been a growl. “Are you crazy?”
“About you?” He flashed a smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I—Oof.” He stumbled when she pushed on his chest. Hard.
“No, no, no,” she said, her voice low, almost a snarl. Each exclamation was punctuated with another shove. “You don’t get to do this, Griffin Stone.”
He’d seen many sides of Maggie, but never had he seen her so angry. Color stained her cheeks and her breath was coming out in ragged puffs. “I’m not—”
“You rejected me.” She jabbed one finger into his chest. “You said horrible things about my sister and my family.”
“I was angry.” He wrapped his fingers around hers, pulled it away from his body. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“I’ve moved on,” she announced, yanking her hand from his. “Just like you.”
“Like me?”
“The woman you introduced me to. The one who calls you Grif. Oh, Grif...” She gave an overly girlish laugh. “You’re so handsome, Grif. So strong, Grif. Oh, Griffy-poo.”
“Cassie
