Love in Maine Read Free Page B

sealed envelope home and open it in private. It felt special. Hers. She
     had gotten paychecks before, obviously. She’d worked at lots of killer jobs, most
     recently at the campus human rights league, doing paralegal work that a regular paralegal
     could have charged two hundred dollars an hour for. But this check felt like she had
     actually earned it. She wasn’t quite sure how to explain it, but it felt like real
     money for real work.
    Maddie practically skipped home and smiled at how Janet’s house was already starting
     to feel like home. She’d made it five days on her own. Six, counting Sunday when she’d
     first arrived. But she didn’t really count Sunday because she didn’t make any money
     that day. She’d done just fine. Her brother Jimmy could take his pontificating self-righteousness
     and stick it. Maddie didn’t need to be coddled by her parents and her wealthy upbringing.
    She got to Janet’s and let the screen door slam behind her. Somehow that seemed less
     rude than screaming through the house, “Anybody home?”
    It was only half past three and the house was quiet, so Maddie peeked into the kitchen
     and was about to turn back into the living room when she realized Henry Gilbertson
     was standing near the back door. He looked like he’d been about to dart out and been
     caught. He stood so still that, in the shadows cast from the afternoon sun, Maddie
     couldn’t quite convince herself that he was really standing there. In the flesh. There
     was something invisible about him, about his stillness.
    “Oh. Hi, Henry.” Maddie put one hand on her hip and leaned against the doorjamb. She
     was flicking the envelope— Hello! My first paycheck! —back and forth like a swishing cattail. He didn’t say a word.
    Maddie decided it might be fun to push his buttons a little. He was so gruff and manly,
     he was really a caricature of himself. She walked into the kitchen and headed for
     the refrigerator. She opened it and bent down to see what she could have to drink
     to celebrate. Soda. Soda. Juice. Soda.
    “You know what I’d really love right now?” she twisted her face around to peek at
     Henry over the top edge of the old yellow refrigerator, but most of her was still
     bent over and, apparently, distracting him. His eyes, which Maddie now noticed were
     a stormy green, were definitely taking her in. Maybe he wasn’t such a stoic after
     all.
    He shook his head to silently acknowledge that he had no idea what Maddie would love
     right now. Something hot and fast crackled between them when Henry moved his head,
     but he kept his eyes fixed on Maddie. The bastard had hit Maddie’s flirting slow pitch
     right out of the park.
    Maddie tried to weigh her options. She supposed she could forego pesky considerations
     like . . . sentences longer than two words . . . or common courtesy. For a taste of
     those wide stern lips or a chance to get her arms around those enormous shoulders,
     she thought she could make allowances. He was so . . . big. So unlike any of the cool,
     polished guys she’d dated at Brown. He gave confidence a whole new meaning.
    Summer fling , Maddie thought, here I come .
    She stood up slowly, and rested her elbows on the top of the fridge door.
    “What I’d really love is . . . a friend.” Maddie surprised herself as much as she
     seemed to surprise Henry with her choice of words. What she originally thought she
     wanted was an ice-cold beer. Earlier in the week, Janet mentioned that she’d been
     sober for years, and Maddie wasn’t about to stock the refrigerator with beer.
    But a friend? What was she thinking? She already had tons of friends. Not that she
     was the most popular girl in town or anything, but she had her share of really great
     friends. But that’s what had come out of her mouth. A friend. Maybe on some level
     she really did want him like that, platonically. Maybe zero communication with the
     outside world was beginning to rattle her. Maybe