Next In Line

by Daws, Amy

  “What news?” she asks, closing the door and giving me her undivided attention.

  “My uncle just basically handed Tire Depot over to me.”

  “Wow!” she exclaims, tucking the small paper bag she has under her arm and walking over to me for a hug. “Congratulations, Sam. That is so exciting!”

  I inhale her flowery scent as her free hand tightens around my neck. She feels just as good in my arms today as she did this weekend when I held her in that shower. Plus, she still hasn’t told me what she’s wearing.

  I pull back and smile awkwardly. “I mean, he didn’t just give it to me. I’ve been buying him out. And it’s just a tire store, but it’s exciting. I’ve been working for this for a long time.”

  “It’s not just a tire store,” she retorts, giving me a playful shove. “It’s Tire Depot, home of the famous erotic romance novelist, Mercedes Lee Loveletter!”

  Her use of Kate’s pen name has me throwing my head back in laughter. “Damn right. I forgot we’re basically famous in the romance reader world.”

  “Your cookies and exceptional service are famous,” Maggie replies, bobbing her head from side to side and offering her own little victory dance that makes me laugh.

  “So what are you doing here anyway?” I ask, releasing her from the comfort of my arms. “Did you come to tell me in person what you were wearing?”

  Maggie’s cheeks flush as she holds up a to-go bag. “I was in line for sandwiches when you were texting me. It’s been a few days since I saw you, and since I’m now “feeling better,” she says with finger quotes, “I decided to bring you some lunch as a thank you for taking such good care of me this weekend.”

  She shows me the logo on the side of the Yellow Deli sandwich bag, and I lift my brows in appreciation. “Hey, I’m just glad you’re feeling better,” I reply with a playful waggle of my brows. “It was a lot of work taking care of you.”

  “Thank you so much for your sacrifice.” She giggles, tipping her chin up with a smile so adorable that I can’t help but lower my head and taste it. My tongue feels like it’s operating on muscle memory as it instantly slips past her lips and tangles with hers, massaging it in sexy, unhindered strokes. The sandwich bag is smashed between our chests as my hands glide around her waist and pull her body tightly against mine. She moans her appreciation, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to thinking about how easy it would be to fuck her on this empty desk right here, right now and find out what color bra she has on with my own damn eyes.

  A familiar voice suddenly booms down the hallway. “Sam, you son of a bitch!”

  Maggie and I shoot apart like a couple of teenagers caught by their parents just as Miles bursts through the door with a big, dopey smile on his face. His eyes land on Maggie and then his brow crinkles in confusion. “Meg, what are you doing here?”

  Maggie’s eyes nearly bug out of her head as she rushes over and thrusts the food sack into her brother’s unsuspecting hands. “I brought you guys sandwiches.”

  “You did? Score!” Miles takes the bag and moves past Maggie over to the empty chair in front of my desk. I discreetly find my way to the other side of the desk to conceal the situation that happened to pop up while Maggie and I were kissing.

  Maggie grips the doorknob and barks out in clipped tones, “It was a thank you for Sam bringing me soup this weekend.” Her voice sounds like a fucking robot, and I try to smile at her to get her to relax a little.

  “Aw, Megs, that’s nice of you!” Miles replies with a hearty thumbs up. “But you really didn’t have to. I just found out this fucker is my official boss now, so he can afford to buy his own damn lunch.”

  I narrow my eyes at my supposed best friend. “Since I’m your boss now, does that mean I get to pick which sandwich I want?” My tone is flat because, in the back of my mind, I’m thinking about how much I’d rather be eating this food with Maggie instead of her brother.

  “No way, man,” Miles replies with a wink and begins digging into the bag. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not celebrating tomorrow night after you finish your first official day flying solo!”

  “Yeah? What’d you have in mind?” I ask, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly because I’d already been brainstorming of ways to see Maggie all week long.

  “You, Me, Kate, and Megs. Pearl Street pub crawl. We need to celebrate this momentous achievement for you.”

  “Sounds fun!” Maggie exclaims and then flicks an awkward wave in our direction. “I’d better be going. See you tomorrow, Sam!”

  “Thanks for the sandwich, Maggie,” I state, wistfully checking her ass out as she walks away.

  When I look at my best friend in front of me, who literally has yellow mustard on his chin, my boner from earlier slinks away in defeat. We eat our sandwiches and map out our plans for tomorrow night, but as soon as Miles leaves my office, I realize that I can’t wait until tomorrow to see Maggie. I bust out my phone and shoot her a text.

  Me: Have your snowsuit with you?

  Sparky: Is this more sexting? Cuz I gotta say, I think you’re bad at it.

  Me: Mind out of the gutter, Sparky. Answer the question.

  Sparky: Yes, the snowsuit is in my trunk…why?

  Me: I’m taking the afternoon off. Meet me at Marv’s in twenty minutes.

  A huge smile is stuck on my face as I head out to Marv’s, which could be flipping Disney World based on how happy I feel right now. But fucking hell, today has been a great day, and I want to embrace it. I’m taking over Tire Depot, my plans to expand with Miles by my side are moving forward, and I get a rare Thursday afternoon off to go ice fishing. Life is fucking good.

  When I walk into Marv’s Bait and Tackle, Maggie is already inside, decked out in her adorable red and white snowsuit and hunched over a tank of minnows as she has Marv in complete stitches. Honestly, I didn’t even know Marv knew how to laugh. I sort of just figured his face was stuck in a permanent wrinkly scowl, but Maggie chatting his ear off clearly indicates otherwise.

  As I walk toward her, I have flashbacks of the first time I saw her in here and how out of place she seemed then. Now, she looks like one of the guys…with a really hot ass and sexy long dark hair sticking out from her stocking cap.

  When I move to stand beside Maggie, Marv is positively howling with laughter. It’s a strange smoker’s chortle that makes me worry about how many years he has left on this earth.

  “You say they ran off with your clothes?” he sputters, coughing out a wet noise from his throat around his barks of laughter.

  “They sure did! We had to run all the way back into our cabin in the buff!” Maggie exclaims and then turns to acknowledge me. “Hi, Sam! I was just telling Marv about our fun weekend.”

  “Oh, I’m glad you’re telling him only the good stuff,” I deadpan, narrowing my eyes at her.

  Maggie purses her lips together. “Well, I could tell him about your big rod instead?”

  “That’s enough for today, sparky!” I wrap my arm around her head so I can cover her mouth with my palm. I lean over the counter, and say casually, “Talk to me, Marv. Where are we fishing at today, and what kind of bait do you think will get the job done?”

  Marv gets to work helping me, but I swear to fuck, his eyes have a twinkle in them as he scoops up some minnows into a tub and hands them over to Maggie. Minutes later, Maggie and I are in my truck and driving out toward a secluded spot called Fawn Lake.

  “No snowmobile this time?” she asks from the passenger seat as she adjusts her seat belt.

  “Nah, I didn’t want to waste time running all the way home first.”

  She shakes her head sadly. “That’s a shame. I thought maybe you’d let me drive this time.”

  “Did you now?” I give her the side-eye with a mischievous glint. “Is that to get a picture for your ex or just for fun?” I blurt out the last question without thinking and instantly wish I could take it back.

  Why am I bringing that fucker up in the first place? I shouldn’t gi
ve a shit about him because Maggie and I aren’t long term. Yes, I’m doing something different with her than I’ve ever done with any girl, but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re temporary. Like a catch and release.

  Her brow furrows, and I think my comment may have hurt her feelings when she turns to look out the window. “Not everything is about Sterling.”

  I feel bad for zapping our happy mood, so I reach over and squeeze her thigh playfully. “I think Marv might have a sled. If you keep sweet-talking him the way you were, I’m sure he’d take you for a spin.”

  “Maybe I will,” she chirps and turns to stick her tongue out at me. “If I become buddies with him, then I won’t need you anymore, that’s for sure.”

  I laugh at that response. “I know he’s a better fisherman, but I’m afraid I can’t report back on his big rod.”

  She giggles, and the mood goes right back to easy and fun. A few minutes later, we pull up to the lake and make quick work of setting up the fishing hut. Maggie remembers a lot of the setup instructions from the previous two times, so it goes really smoothly. Once we step inside, I fire up the propane heater before helping Maggie bait her hook.

  A comfortable silence falls over us as we bounce our rigs in the augered holes, and I can’t help but think about how easy it is to fish with Maggie. I’ve gone all these years without ever taking another person ice fishing with me because of the memories I had with my dad. But then Maggie barreled into my life, and everything feels different now. Less ominous and heavy. Lighter and brighter even. If it weren’t for her, I’d probably still be a lonely fisherman out here thinking about shit from my past that doesn’t mean a damn thing about my future.

  “So are you ready to be the real boss tomorrow then?” Maggie asks, breaking our silence as she glances down at the video monitor that’s illuminating the water below.

  I shrug my shoulders dismissively. “My uncle Terry seems to think I’m ready, so I guess so.”

  “Are you pretty close to your uncle?” she asks, turning to look at me with wide, curious eyes.

  “Yeah, we’re close,” I reply and have immediate flashbacks of him helping me out when I was a teenager. “I’ve worked for him forever. Honestly, if it weren’t for him, I would probably be walking a very different path in my life.”

  “How so?” Maggie asks, still watching me thoughtfully.

  I exhale heavily at how loaded that simple question is. But somehow sharing it with Maggie doesn’t seem as stressful as it is to share with anyone else, so I clear my throat and reply. “I used to get in a lot of fights when I was in high school, and my mom never really knew what to do with me. She was good with the girls, but with me, she’d always just cry. I’d feel bad for letting her down, but then the next day, someone would say something and set me off again.” I swallow a knot forming in my throat over that memory. “But then Uncle Terry stepped in and helped get my head on straight. He hired me to work at Tire Depot after school, and he hung this boxing bag up in the shop and taught me how to box out my aggression there instead of on some random asshole’s face.”

  Maggie chuckles softly. “That seems wise…and also explains why that guy went down so hard at Marv’s that first day.”

  I wince at that reminder. “Yeah, that’s the first time I’ve punched a guy in years, but that asshole had it coming with those disgusting comments. I don’t even feel bad about it because it felt really fucking good.”

  She giggles, and I can’t help but laugh along with her. “But as a kid, I needed somewhere to my direct my anger. I was young and full of hormones…always on the verge of snapping at the stupidest shit.”

  “Why was that, do you think? Was having three older sisters driving you crazy?” She watches me expectantly, having no idea how deep of a question she just asked.

  To be fair, not many people do. Not even Miles. My childhood is not something I share with people. But for some reason, Maggie feels like a safe space. Like this weird in-between person who doesn’t truly exist in my real world because everything we do together is a secret. And when I stare into her lake blue eyes, I see something that makes me want to share. Something deep and meaningful. Something not casual.

  I clear my throat and stare down at my hands squeezing tightly around my fishing pole. “Um, I don’t think I ever told you, but it was actually my dad who taught me how to ice fish.”

  Maggie tilts her head curiously at my change in direction. “Oh, that’s cool. You haven’t mentioned your dad before.”

  I swallow slowly as an old ache builds in my chest. It feels like a heavy boot pushing down on me that I want to shove off my body. “Yeah…it was about the only cool thing he ever did with me.”

  Maggie absorbs that statement for a few seconds before asking, “Where does he live?”

  “Fuck, who knows,” I reply with a self-deprecating huff. I stretch my legs out around the ice hole and shake my head from side to side. “He skipped out on us when I was fourteen. He’s got mental issues, and…well, my childhood with him wasn’t easy.”

  Maggie moves closer, her eyes trained on me with a seriousness that makes me anxious. “What kind of mental issues?”

  Memories begin flooding back into my mind’s eye, causing me to flinch because I haven’t thought about my dad in months. Even when my mom asked me if I went ice fishing with him a couple of weeks ago, I let it go in one ear and out the other. But something about seeing someone else’s reaction to your truth brings back all the old feelings that live dormant inside you.

  “He has bipolar disorder, which isn’t a problem when he’s taking care of himself, but he would go off his meds a lot and get manic. It was always really fucking scary. Fishing was the one thing that would sort of re-center him. Ice fishing more than anything, though. I think it’s because it’s contained, you know? When we were in the hut, it was like he could finally quiet his mind.

  “When I was a teenager, he started going off his meds a lot more. And then one day, he just completely disappeared on us. My mom had the cops searching for him everywhere. And when they finally found him, he was living with this other family that he’d been lying to us about for years.”

  “Oh my god,” Maggie groans, and I look over to see the pain on her face. It’s a familiar look. One that I remember seeing as a teenager when word spread around Boulder that our dad had abandoned us.

  “Apparently, he had another wife and child in a town about two hours away who knew nothing about us or the fact that he was already married. It was a mess.”

  “What an ass,” Maggie says, her upper lip curled with disdain.

  I nod in agreement because it’s true. I’m well past ever defending anything my father did. “He tried to blame his disorder on a lot of his choices, but that was bullshit too. He was just a bad guy. He even stole money from Tire Depot, which he built from the ground up with my uncle Terry.”

  Maggie goes silent for a moment as the heaviness of everything sinks in. “Where is he now?”

  “With that other woman still,” I reply with a shrug. “Last I heard, they moved to Nevada.”

  “So you guys don’t ever see him?” She looks so young and sad as she asks that question. As if she can’t fathom a life with a deadbeat dad. And I’m glad she can’t. I hope she never loses that innocence about her. It reminds me that there are still good people left in this world.

  “Sometimes when he’s off his meds, he shows up, says he misses us and wants to meet his grandkids. My sisters refuse him, and I always end up having to throw him out of my mom’s house. It’s a fucking mess. Everyone hates him for choosing the other family. I just don’t give a shit about him anymore.”

  “I don’t blame you,” Maggie says, mindlessly reeling in her line.

  “My uncle is the kind of guy I want to be. If he hadn’t taken me under his wing, I don’t know where I’d be right now. I am who I am because of him.”

  The backs of my eyes burn with unshed tears as the weight of that statement sinks in. To think abo
ut how my uncle had to be so angry with his own brother yet still embrace his brother’s son the way he did is a remarkable thing. And the fact he trusts me with a business he started with my father, who not only abandoned his wife and kids but also his brother and business partner…a lot of trust is between us. Trust that I don’t take for granted.

  “I can’t imagine how that would feel as a kid,” Maggie says gravely. “To be ice fishing with your dad one day, and the next day, he’s gone for good. My brain can’t even comprehend how someone could leave their family like that.”

  I nod in agreement. “Honestly though, I don’t even try to understand it all anymore. Now that I’m older, I’m just over it. I refuse to give headspace to someone who can hurt me that deeply ever again.”

  I feel Maggie’s eyes on me when she asks, “Do you think that’s why you don’t do long-term relationships?”

  I jerk my head back in surprise at her change in direction. “No,” I reply instantly, and she raises her eyebrows. “No,” I confirm and then exhale heavily because I feel like she’s trying to look right through me. “When I was younger, I was really freaked out that I was like my dad, so I avoided relationships like the plague. But now that I’m older, and I know I don’t have the disorder, I just like my life the way it is. Everything I do is on my terms.”

  She shakes her head from side to side. “I don’t know, Sam. If these past few weeks have taught me anything, it’s that I want someone special to bait my hook for me, you know?”

  “Thankfully, I can bait my own hook,” I grumble, looking down at our poles in the water. “We’re two very different people, sparky.”

  She presses her lips together and shrugs. “I don’t think we are. Your passion is people, and that can extend far beyond family and your employees.” Maggie’s eyes are sparkling as she turns to look at me. “You have a big heart, Sam, and I think you’d be surprised at how wonderful it feels to give it away to someone extraordinary.”

  I can’t help but smile at her optimism. She’s perched on that stool, looking adorable with a fishing pole in her hand and speaking passionately about her grandiose ideas of love—it’s certainly never a conversation I’ve had while ice fishing.