One, Summer would never agree to it.
This could’ve been a super reason, if not for the fact that Summer wouldn’t be there. She was staying at Tygue’s for the rest of the weekend, and the couple was leaving for Jamaica early Monday morning, which meant Maggie would have the place to herself for eight days…
“Don’t even think it,” she muttered to herself.
“What’s wrong with a strawberry daiquiri?”
Realizing she’d spoken out loud, Maggie shot a reassuring look to the balding, middle-aged man sitting at one of her booths. “What? Oh, nothing’s wrong, sir. The strawberry daiquiri is delicious.”
“Wayne, she’s trying to tell you it’s not manly,” the man’s female companion grumbled. “Order a beer, for God’s sake.”
Wayne set his jaw. “I’m having a daiquiri, Jeannine.”
The duo began arguing about masculine versus feminine drinks, and Maggie slinked away, the bickering couple all but forgotten as she resumed her mental list of reasons to tell Ben to get lost.
Two, she didn’t even know him. He was famous, sure, but not to her. How could she be sure he wasn’t an axe murderer who hid behind his celebrity status while he hacked silly waitresses to pieces?
There, try to challenge that one, she told that little voice in her head. The voice stayed quiet, but Maggie could tell it was unfazed.
She headed for the counter, still deep in thought.
Three, he was arrogant.
And then there was reason number four—he was a good kisser.
And why is this bad?
Well, because his high-caliber kissing skills would be nothing but a distraction. She didn’t have time for distractions. Her exams were coming up. She needed to study. Needed to focus. Needed…
Sex.
She mentally chided her hormones for raising their voice, but she had to admit they brought up a good point. First, her night with Tony hadn’t panned out, then she’d found herself in Ben’s bed—which had only deepened that sexual ache—and now, after the hot kiss he’d planted on her outside, the ache was even worse.
“You look busy.”
Maggie glanced up in surprise as Summer approached the counter. Setting a martini glass down on her tray, she pushed all thoughts of Ben and sex and sex with Ben out of her mind, and smiled at her roommate.
“Hey! What brings you here?”
“I came to say goodbye.”
“You’re not leaving ’til Monday.”
Summer shrugged and ran a hand through her stick-straight blonde hair. “Yeah, but I’ll be at Tygue’s tonight and tomorrow, so I figured I’d say goodbye now.”
Looking around, Maggie spotted Linda and met the older woman’s eyes. “Break?” she mouthed. She gestured to Summer, who’d been Linda’s pet when she’d waitressed at the bar.
With a nod, Linda waved at Summer, then held up five fingers, indicating the number of minutes Maggie could steal away for. Normally she never took unscheduled breaks, but since Summer was here, she might as well squeeze some advice out of her level-headed friend.
They headed for the employee lounge in the back, where Maggie flopped down on the ugly plaid couch and reached down to rub her sore ankles. “You’re so lucky you quit,” she grumbled, dreading how much worse her feet would feel when her shift finally ended.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your degree soon and leave this place too.” Summer leaned against the arm of the couch and eyed her expectantly. “So what’s up? Did you bring me back here for a private goodbye kiss?”
“I need your help.”
“What’d you do?”
“Nothing,” Maggie said, insulted. “I just need you to talk me out of something.”
Oh God, was this how close she’d come to agreeing to Ben’s request? She’d thought she’d done a good job sifting through the cons, that when she saw him again after work the word “no” would fly out of her mouth as easy as the bad notes flew from Summer’s drum.
Why was her resolve faltering now?
“Remember my stranger from last night?” she said with a sigh.
Summer grinned. “How could I forget?”
“Well, he’s no longer a stranger. He showed up today.”
A gasp came barreling out of Summer’s throat. “No! He actually tracked you down? Why?”
“He said he wanted to see me.”
“Well, that’s nice of him.”
She stared at her friend. “You don’t find that the least bit strange?”
“Strange? No. I think it’s kind of sweet.”
Maggie snorted. “Trust me. He’s not sweet. He’s arrogant and presumptuous and—”
“You like him.”
She replied with a dirty look and a stubborn silence.
“Is it so bad, actually liking someone?” Summer teased. “Just go on a date with him, see what happens.”
“He doesn’t want a date,” she said through clenched teeth. “He wants to have a sleepover.”
“A sleepover? You mean—ohhhh.” Summer’s eyes lit up. “So what the hell are you grumbling about? You said he was gorgeous, you two had chemistry, why not dub him the new Tony?”