by Meg Maguire
She frowned at the insecurity squirming in her middle. “What’s his type?”
“Quiet, for one. Smart but, like, book-smart. Not scary, evil-genius smart like you.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Unlike Reece, I googled you. This morning.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. “Oh?”
He nodded. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t want to know what you did to freak your dad out—he can be a bit of a basket case about ethics. Stalking you notwithstanding. I think he’s going with the ignorance-is-bliss approach, so that’s just between you and me and the internet.”
“Good,” she said, not entirely relieved. “So you know, I’m not in New Zealand to start any trouble.” Her history was murky, riddled with police run-ins over various minor offenses. And some not-so-minor.
Colin shrugged. “I like your kind of trouble. But I believe you—if you were out to cause that type of chaos, you came to the wrong country. I’m willing to believe you’re here for the glowworms.”
She nodded.
“And at any rate, Reece fancies boring girls. Sweet…curvy.”
“Now that I am not.”
“Nah. You’re a panther. Reece is into house cats. Girls who teach kindergarten or start their own catering companies. Wholesome stuff like that.”
Libby pouted.
“Hey, don’t give up or anything. You’re bloody hot the way you are. I’d wrap your legs around my ears in a heartbeat.”
“Poetic. Thanks, Tiger.”
He shrugged. “You know Reece. Or actually, you don’t. He’s…he’s like a monk, all calm and disciplined. He’s been that way since he was born. You’re like a tornado let loose in his monastery. Personally, I think you’d be good for him. But I don’t know if he’d agree… I hope he does. He could use a little chaos.”
“Maybe.”
“But if you’re driving him loopy,” Colin went on, “thinking it’s going to win him over, you’re wasting your time. Reece doesn’t go in for head games. You might want to try a little sincerity. He’s a sucker for the straight and narrow.”
“I see.” Libby contemplated the option of sincerity for a moment. The thought of all that openhearted honesty made her feel naked.
Colin straightened up. “If you don’t mind my asking, what do you see in Reece? Not that you shouldn’t see something. I’m just curious.” He tossed tomatoes into the pan, seeming uncomfortable with own jealousy.
Libby raised her eyebrows, deciding recklessly to play with a little of Colin’s fire. “Do you think I’m barking up the wrong Nolan?”
“I know it’s none of my business.”
“You think you could teach me a thing or two, don’t you?”
He smiled deeply and, if Libby wasn’t mistaken, blushed. “What makes you think I wouldn’t prefer to be the student, eh?”
It was Libby’s turn to blush. Oh, if you only knew.
“I can tell you’ve only got eyes for my brother. Although Christ knows why,” Colin said through a sigh, pretending to be insulted by her preference. “But if you’re looking for a Kiwi conquest, I’m delighted you’ve set your sights within our lucky little flat. Let me know if I can aid in the expedition at all. He could do with having his brains properly fucked out. Might loosen him up.” He didn’t notice Libby’s deepening flush. “Reece, though? You do like a challenge.”
Libby looked at her feet. “Well, I mostly like that he’s never made a pass at me. Or even really looked at me, that way.”
Colin laughed. “Oh, he has. He’s just too Zen master to show it.”
She glanced up. “You think?”
“You’re hard to ignore, Libby, even without the nonstop flirting. You make a trackie top look like a teddy. Reece has noticed you. He said he saw you dancing about in your togs on the beach.”
“That he did.”
“Poor bastard.” Colin handed her a fresh cup of coffee.
“Thanks. Well, he’s never made me feel like he was checking me out. He’s…he’s not a creep.”
“Nah, he’s a gentleman. He’ll make a good plod.”
“A what?”
“A copper,” Colin said. “He’s meant to start training for the police in a few months.”
Libby gaped. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. He’ll be great at it.” Colin looked genuinely proud. He flipped the sausages with a sizzle.
“Wow.” Libby Prentiss, policeman’s wife. How twisted would that be? “But wait—so they’ll have to do like a whole background check on Reece, presumably.”
“Yeah, all that good stuff. I know what you’re thinking.” Colin cracked an egg into a second pan. “About what he agreed to do for your dad?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded. “Reece took a big chance on that. If you’d reported him when you caught him, for spying on you or whatever, he’d have been buggered. Or if he got caught, doing shady, under-the-table shit.” He cracked another egg. “Buggered.”
“Why’d he do it, then? He doesn’t seem to want the job.”
“We need the money.” Colin’s voice turned heavy. “Pretty bad. Our dad died in January, and we’re up to our necks in bills and unpaid accounts for the pub. It’s all a bit effed up. Our mum kept it all quiet until after he passed. He was a good guy but he took on some investments he shouldn’t have, this nasty spiral of IOUs. We owe money all over the place and business is not good. Pub’s on the brink, and that’s all we’ve really got.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Libby thought for a moment. “How much money?”
“About eighty grand. On top of the usual accounts.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah, it’s a whopping great mess. Every week some supplier or other cuts us off. Our mum’s probably going to have to give up her house, and even then we’ll still be in the red. This nest could get mighty cozy, soon.” Colin glanced around the flat, his apprehension plain. “Trust me, Reece would never have taken that job if we weren’t hard up for the cash.”
“I’ll bet.”
Colin flipped the eggs. “Reece is cautious, to a fault. Always has been. I was as shocked as anybody when he said he was going to work for your dad. But he’s been gone a long time, and he was MIA for some rough shit that’s gone on around here. I think this is his way of making up for all that, or trying to. Doesn’t look like he’s feeling too keen for it now though. Failure’s not his strong suit. Don’t take it too personally if he’s hard on you. You wrecked his plans. Give him some time to lick his wounds.”
Libby nodded, thinking. “Well if Reece doesn’t want my father’s gig, why don’t you do it? I’m trying to convince him to be my double agent. Document me on my own terms, for a generous bonus. He’s not really taking the bait. If he hates it so much, you should do it. Maybe Reece could recommend you as a replacement.”
Colin laughed, his eyes squinting and his dimple reappearing. He turned to Libby and held out his tattooed arms, presenting himself as a package. “No father would hire me to stalk their daughter.”
He had a point. “No, I guess not. And not my father, especially.”
“Plus I’ve already got two jobs. And anyway—don’t pretend you’re not hoping my brother’ll be forced to keep sharing your company.”
“Touché.”
Thank You for Riding
Meg Maguire
The last train of the night might just be the start of something good.
A Strangers on a Train Story
Stung ego or not, Caitlin’s relieved her fizzling relationship is over, even if she’s just been unceremoniously dumped between the copier and a dead ficus tree. At least she has an excuse to ditch the lousy office Christmas party in time to catch the last subway home…to her cat, and early-onset spinsterhood.
Instead of a lonely, chilly ride, she gets an unexpected holiday treat in the form of a nearly familiar face—a handsome stranger she encountered last week at the blood drive.
At the end of the line, neither can seem to let their cha
nce meeting end—until their extended flirtation finds them facing the prospect of spending a frigid winter night locked in an unheated subway station. And they wonder if keeping each other warm is merely a delightful form of rebound therapy…or a memorable first of many more dates to come.
Warning: Contains dorky, harmless flirtation that heats up into some spicy, third-base action.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Thank You for Riding
Copyright © 2013 by Meg Maguire
ISBN: 978-1-61921-337-1
Edited by Anne Scott
Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2013
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