Page 33

Chapter Thirty-Three

Maggie

I spot Xavier as soon as I walk out of the main school doors, and my heart does this weird flip-flop thing. He's leaning against his car in the pick-up circle, one hand tucked casually in his pocket, the other scrolling on his phone. And somehow, he manages to look both cool and aristocratic at the same time, with his faded, frayed jeans, preppy puffer jacket, and deliciously disheveled hair that catches the winter sunlight.

The bruising on his face has faded to a lurid greenish yellow, less noticeable beneath the rosy coloring of his cheeks. A hue of pink just a shade paler than his full lips. He smirks at something on his phone, making his dimple pop.

I pause at the top of the school steps, adjusting my backpack strap and trying to calm my racing pulse. It's just Xavier. The same Xavier who drives me crazy on a daily basis.

The same Xavier who almost kissed me last night.

Okay, maybe not helping with the whole staying-calm thing.

A group of sophomore girls walks past him, giggling and stealing not-so-subtle glances. Another group slows as they pass, murmuring in hurried whispers. So many people keenly aware of who he is, while Xavier appears oblivious. Or maybe it isn't so much oblivion as familiarity with these kinds of reactions to his presence. The thought makes me want to turn around and go back inside.

But then he glances up, those hazel eyes finding mine instantly like he somehow sensed me standing here. He drops the hand holding his phone, and the slight grin transforms into something warmer, more genuine. Something that makes my knees feel a little weak .

I make my way down the steps, trying to keep my pace casual even though my heart's doing a drum solo.

"Hey," I say, hoping my voice sounds steadier than it feels.

He pushes off his car, reaching for my backpack. "I wasn't sure which door you'd come out of."

Our fingers brush as he takes my bag, and that split-second of contact sends tingles up my arm. I watch him toss it into the back seat, grateful he's not doing the whole door-opening routine, which would feel forced and weird, especially given the glimmer of awkwardness now that our relationship evolved from mutual antagonism to whatever this is now.

I slide into the passenger seat, hyper-aware of how close we'll be sitting. The leather seat is warm from the sun streaming through the windshield, but I still feel goosebumps rising on my arms. Everything feels different now—the air between us charged with possibility after last night's almost-kiss.

The car smells like him—a mix of subtle cologne and outdoors. It's both comforting and nerve-wracking at the same time, which pretty much sums up how I feel about this whole situation.

"Ready?" He's got one hand on the wheel, the other draped lazily over the gearshift.

My brain promptly short-circuits. "Uh, yep."

He glances up in his rearview mirror, then leans back to check his blind spot as he pulls out. His gaze pauses, giving me a lazy once-over. "I see you dressed in your most under-stated, refined outfit for the occasion." He grins.

I tug open my unzipped blue jacket to check out the vintage cassette-tape graphic tee I layered under my chunky forest-green cardigan, down to my dark jeans cuffed over bright yellow lace-up boots.

"Why yes." I grin back. "I sure did."

He laughs, and it's a sound I really like, I realize. A mix of rugged and refined, just like him. Deep and a little rough. And just the thing to ease any of the awkwardness.

We talk about our day as we drive. Mine was pretty boring. Xave's was a little more exciting. Seb apparently "borrowed" their rival school's mascot costume last night—a ridiculous giant eagle—which he wore at lunch, making squawking noises and dramatically challenging students to arm-wrestling matches.

We pull up to a large, fancy-looking cedar-shingled building with navy lettering above the double-wide main entrance.

I lean forward, reading the inscription. "You're taking me to… the Sandy Haven town hall?"

"Yup." He pops the 'p', grinning over slyly at me as he puts the car in park.

"Okaaaaay… Weird."

"Bit of a stretch, coming from the girl wearing a sweater made of pipe-cleaners."

I laugh. "It's faux fur."

"Exactly." He unfolds his tall body from the car and steps outside, leaning in to look back at me. "C'mon. Let's go."

I'm not going to lie—I am intrigued. Also, a little giddy. I was a teeny tiny bit worried that he was going to take me somewhere predictable. A coffee shop or something. Which would have been fine—just not… intriguing the way this is.

He places his hand against the small of my back when I round the car, looking down at me with a grin that's a little smug and a lot sexy.

"You're not taking me to sign a marriage certificate, are you?" I give him an exaggerated side-eye. "Because I'm not going to dissolve the three dates kissing rule, or sleep with you or something… just because we're husband and wife."

"Well, Christ." He throws his head back, then looks back down at me. "What's it gonna take with you?" But he's still wearing that same grin. Only possibly more irresistible, because there's an added spark of laughter in his eyes.

"Well, a kick-ass honeymoon, for starters," I quip.

"Shit. You're so not the easy date I was expecting…" He shakes his head. "Because I gotta be honest, your outfit was screaming 'sure thing'."

"It's the green faux fur and yellow boot combo… I get it." I sigh dramatically. "Well, let this be your lesson not to make judgment calls about women based on the way they dress."

He chuckles. "Newsflash, Maggs, if I was the kind of guy who made judgment calls about women based on the way they dress, I'd have assumed you were trying to seduce me into buying handcrafted soap from an underground Etsy commune."

My mouth drops open. "Wow… Harsh, Rockwell."

He laughs, holding the door open for me and motioning me forward.

I step into a high-ceilinged lobby, lined on one side with a couple of doors bracketing a long reception desk behind a wide window.

A short-haired woman with heavily blushed cheeks looks up when we walk in and her eyes stretch a little wider when they land on Xavier. "Xavier…" she says. "Rockwell." She clears her throat. "Well, good afternoon. What can I do for you this afternoon?"

"Nothing, thanks." He gives her a brief smile. "Just here to show a friend some of our town's unique history."

But I already know exactly what we're here for, because while he was talking to rouge-cheek lady, I've been checking out what's behind the long glass display cabinet along the other wall of the lobby.

"Holy guacamole." I stride closer to the glass until my nose is practically touching it. "Xavier, this is… it's insane. This is so. Freaking. Cool." I squint at the display in front of me—a detailed and expansive miniature diorama spanning almost the entire wall. "The texturing is so impressive… And the detail is just… wow."

"You like it?"

"I love it!" I study the size of the people. "Is it one-twenty scale?"

Xavier laughs. "Are you seriously asking me?"

I glance up at him, and like he thinks I might still be waiting for an answer, he adds, "I have no idea what that even means."

"Wait…" I peer closer at the focal point of the diorama. "Is that… a giant floating pumpkin? "

I feel Xavier move closer, his arm brushing mine, then meet his eyes. They're dancing with humor.

"Yuuuup." His grin stretches wider. "It's of one of our town's most significant historical events. "

" What? " I peer more closely at the diorama. I recognize some of the buildings in the historic town center… The Beacon Theater, the old post office, the bank, the boardwalk, Halicina Cove and Marram Lighthouse… everything re-created with meticulous detail. But the focal point is a huge gathering of miniature townsfolk clustered at the edge of a lake by a small log cabin, where a bearded man is being pushed off into the water, sitting in a massive hollowed out pumpkin.

"The Giant Pumpkin Voyage of nineteen-forty-eight." Xavier beams. "Some local farmer turned a record-breaking huge-ass pumpkin into a boat and successfully sailed it across Moon Lake."

"For real?" For a second, I think he's messing with me, but the glint in his hazel eyes is pure amusement, not deception.

A slow grin spreads across my face as I turn back to the diorama, absorbing the absurdity of it. There's something so perfectly ridiculous and wonderful about a person looking at a massive pumpkin and deciding, Yep, that’s my vessel .

"Crazy, right?" Xavier steps closer. He's right behind me now.

Then I feel his hands settle on my hips; his warm breath brush across my cheek as he leans in and rests his chin on my shoulder. "It got a bunch of national attention. It was a huge deal for a while. Some kind of quirky triumph, I guess."

"Wow." I trace my fingers along the glass of the display case, the weight of Xavier’s presence behind me suddenly just as noticeable as the story itself.

The idea of a town rallying around a floating pumpkin as a symbol of triumph is bizarre but also kind of beautiful. The thought that he brought me here—because he thought I’d appreciate it—sends warmth curling in my chest.

"Cool, huh?" His voice is soft, even though his mouth is right next to my ear.

And suddenly I'm finding it really hard to breathe normally. My stomach is going all kinds of tingly, because having his lips this close to mine is wreaking havoc on my composure.

" So cool… I love it . "

Not sure if I'm talking about the diorama or his closeness to me right now.

"Kinda figured you'd like it. "

I lean back to look up at him. Which is a mistake, since it just brings my lips even closer to his.

Quickly, I turn and look straight ahead again. "It's really impressive."

There's a beat of silence, and then he says, "I never thought about it before—how much skill and creativity and time would go into making a diorama, until I saw you doing it. But yeah…" He leans in closer to study the display, his chin tickling my shoulder a little when he shifts. "It is impressive."

I nod. "Most original first date ever."

He lifts his chin, pulling back, but squeezing my hips gently with his large hands. "This is just the first part of the date."

I swivel to look up at him. "There's more?"

"Yeah. I mean—no more dioramas." He shrugs. "That's it for miniature dioramas in Sandy Haven. But there's more to the date."

"Wow." I glance up at him, my heart giving another one of those stupid little skips, because of course there’s more. Of course he didn’t just stop at bringing me to a place he somehow knew would make me geek out in the best way. And the way he says it—like he’s actually excited to see my reaction to whatever’s next—makes my stomach dip in a way that has nothing to do with nerves and everything to do with him.

And then I remember— Finn. He'll be back from swimming lessons in an hour.

When I remind Xavier of this, he informs me that everything's already arranged for Candice to watch Finn until her shift ends after dinner. And I'm equal parts touched and mortified.

"You asked Candice to fill in for me?" And then I add, "You told her we're going on a date?"

"I didn't exactly tell Candice we're going on a date. I just told her we were going to hang out," Xavier says, his hands still resting on my hips. "She's been wanting to do some baking with Finn—it's their thing. They usually do it every couple weeks."

I bite my lip. "Okay. But… "

"She was excited about it." He drops his hands, turning to face me. "And Denise was part of the conversation too."

" Denise knows? " My voice rises an octave.

"Yeah. She said you deserved some time off after putting in those extra hours the night of the fight." His eyes search mine. "They both get it, Maggie. It's not weird for them to hang out with Finn sometimes."

I fidget with the sleeve of my cardigan. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure." His expression softens. "They both love you. You know that, right? You're the first nanny Finn actually listens to. And respects."

Something warm blooms in my chest at his words. Not just because it's nice to hear I'm doing well at my job, but because of the way Xavier says it—like the words mean something to him, too.

"Really?"

"Really." He reaches out and tugs gently on a strand of my hair. "So, stop worrying about being unprofessional, and let me take you on part two of our date."

"I still can't believe there's a part two."

His grin turns into a throaty laugh when I stumble over my own feet as I turn towards the exit. He steadies me with one hand, then heads for the main doors, glancing over his shoulder as he opens one of them for me. "So predictable, LeClair… tripping over yourself trying to impress me."

I roll my eyes. "I try to impress no-one."

"Yeah, the outfit choice kind of gave that away."

I flick his chest as I walk past him to the car. "Sorry if I offended your sensibilities, Parka Boy."

"No offence taken, Pipe Cleaner Girl."

As we slide into the front seats of his car, I glance over at him. "You do realize if I love part two of this date as much as part one, you’re officially setting the bar way too high for yourself, right?"

He flashes a playful grin. "Challenge accepted."