Page 4 of Jack of All Trades (The Morrison Brothers #4)

"For the feeling," I correct her. "There's nothing like those eight seconds. Nothing in the world."

"You really love it."

"I really do." I open the box, revealing an assortment of party supplies. "Ah, here we go. Streamers, some paper lanterns, and—" I pull out a string of multicolored lights, "—these will work for the yard."

Maya takes the lights from me. "Perfect. We'll need more, though."

"There should be white ones in the Christmas box." I reach for a higher shelf, my shirt riding up slightly. When I glance back, Maya is definitely not looking at the exposed strip of skin above my jeans. Definitely not.

Interesting.

I hand her the white lights, fighting a smile. "These too. Between the colored ones and these, we should have enough to string from the tree to the house and back."

"Good." She takes the lights, "What about tables and chairs?"

"I've got two folding tables. For chairs, we'll need to borrow some. I can ask Maggie at The Nail. She's got extras in storage."

Maya nods, making a note on her phone. "I'll handle the food and cake. Can you pick up drinks? Beer for the guys, some wine maybe, and non-alcoholic options?"

"Consider it done." I close the box and reach for another. "Let's see what else we've got in here."

As we sort through the boxes, I find myself stealing glances at Maya. There's something about the serious way she approaches this task, the slight furrow between her brows as she considers each item, that I find inexplicably charming.

"What?" she asks, catching me looking.

"Nothing," I say quickly. "Just... you're good at this. Planning."

She shrugs, but I can tell she's pleased by the compliment. "I like organizing things. Making sure everything is in its place."

"Control freak?" I tease gently.

"Realist," she counters. "If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself."

"Trust issues. Got it."

She shoots me a glare that lacks real heat. "I trust plenty of people."

"Name three who aren't Rex."

Maya opens her mouth, then closes it again. "That's not fair. I just moved to Seattle last year. I haven't had time to—" She stops abruptly. "We're supposed to be planning a party, not psychoanalyzing me."

I raise my hands in surrender. "You're right. Sorry."

We work in silence for a few minutes, sorting through decorations. Finally, Maya speaks again, her voice softer than before.

"My roommate, Jess. My boss at the daycare, Ellen. And..." she pauses, "my neighbor, Mrs. Patel, who waters my plants when I'm gone."

It takes me a second to realize she's answering my question. Naming people she trusts.

"That's three," I say with a smile.

"Happy now?"

"Ecstatic." I pull out a banner that reads 'HAPPY BIRTHDAY' in faded letters. "Think this will work?"

Maya takes it, examining the slightly worn edges. "It's perfect. Very retro."

"Mom never threw anything away if it could still be used," I explain. "Said it was wasteful."

"She sounds sensible."

"She was." I close the box, suddenly aware of the lump in my throat. "The most practical woman I've ever known. Had to be, raising four boys on her own."

Maya's expression softens. "Rex said she was kind to him. That she always made sure he had enough to eat when he came over."

"That was Mom," I say, swallowing hard. "She had a sixth sense about which kids needed extra attention, extra food. Said she could spot a hungry child a mile away."

"When did she pass?" Maya asks gently.

"Five years ago. Cancer." I put the box back on the shelf, needing the moment to compose myself. "It was quick, at least. She didn't suffer long."

When I turn back, Maya is closer than I expected, her green eyes full of compassion I hadn't seen before.

"I'm sorry," she says simply.

"Thanks." I clear my throat. "What about your mom? Rex doesn't talk about her much."

Maya's expression clouds. "She left when I was four. Decided motherhood and small-town life weren't for her, I guess. I barely remember her."

"That's rough." I resist the urge to reach out, to offer some physical comfort. Maya doesn't strike me as someone who welcomes casual touch. "Rex did a good job with you, though. You turned out okay."

She smiles slightly. "Just okay?"

"Well, you're planning a surprise party for your brother and putting up with me to do it, so I'd say that puts you solidly in the 'decent human' category."

That earns me a real laugh, the second one of the day. I'm starting to think of them as victories.

"Low bar, Morrison."

"I'm a simple man with simple standards."

She rolls her eyes, but the tension from a moment ago has dissipated. "Speaking of the party, we should finalize the guest list. You mentioned your brothers. Are they all coming?"

"Yep. Even Michael, who usually needs six months' notice to clear his calendar. And David's between games, so his timing works out."

"What about Ethan? Rex talks about him sometimes. Says he's... intense."

I snort. "That's one word for it. Ethan's... complicated. Army changed him. But he'll be there. He likes Rex."

"And they're all okay with hosting a party for my brother? They don't even know me."

"You're Rex's sister," I say, as if that explains everything. And to me, it does. "That makes you family by extension. And the Morrisons take care of family."

Maya looks at me for a long moment, like she's trying to decide if I'm being sincere. Whatever she sees in my face must convince her, because she nods slowly.

"Okay. So that's you, your three brothers, me, Rex, and his five closest biker friends. Anyone else?"

I consider the question. "Maybe Maggie from The Nail? Rex has known her forever. And Tom from the garage where Rex worked when he was younger. They're still good friends."

"So, about a dozen people total," Maya says, making another note on her phone. "Perfect. Intimate but not too small."

"Sounds right." I check my watch. "It's past one. Are you hungry? I could make sandwiches."

She shakes her head quickly. "No, I'm fine. And I should get going. Rex thinks I'm at the grocery store again, and he's already suspicious."

"You're not a very good liar, are you?" I tease.

"Actually, I'm an excellent liar when I need to be," she retorts. "But Rex has always been able to see right through me."

"Must be a brother thing," I say, thinking of how easily my own brothers can call me on my bullshit. "Nothing gets past them."

We gather the decorations we've selected and carry them back to the house. At the front door, Maya pauses.

"I should get these to my car," she says, holding the string lights and banner.

"Let me help you." I follow her to her rental car, a sensible sedan that looks out of place in Pine Haven, where most people drive trucks or SUVs.

"Thanks for today," she says, not quite meeting my eyes. "For showing me the space and helping with the planning."

"Anytime." I mean it more than she probably realizes. "We make a good team."

Maya looks up at that, a skeptical expression on her face. "We've spent a total of three hours together, Morrison. That hardly qualifies us as a team."

"Yet," I say with a wink. "Give it time."

She shakes her head, but I catch that almost-smile again. "I'll text you about the food details later."

"Looking forward to it."

As she gets into her car, I have a sudden thought. "Hey, Maya?"

She looks up at me through the open door. "Yes?"

"What are you doing tomorrow night?"

Her expression immediately turns wary. "Why?"

"There's a rodeo competition at the fairgrounds. Nothing major, just a local event. But I'm riding, and I thought..." I trail off, suddenly unsure of myself. "You might want to see what it is I actually do. Before you dismiss it as just chasing belt buckles."

Maya looks genuinely surprised by the invitation. "You want me to come watch you ride?"

"If you want," I say, trying to sound casual. "No pressure. Just thought you might be curious."

She's quiet for a moment, considering. "What time?"

Hope flares in my chest. "Event starts at seven. I ride around eight."

"I'll think about it," she says finally, which isn't a no.

"Great. Text me if you decide to come. I can leave your name at the ticket booth."

Maya nods once, then gets into her car and closes the door. As she drives away, I find myself standing in the driveway longer than necessary, watching until her car disappears around the corner.

This is dangerous territory, Morrison, I tell myself. Rex's sister. In town temporarily. Clearly not interested.

But as I head back into the house, I can't help hoping she decides to come tomorrow night. I want her to see me in my element, doing what I love. I want her to understand that there's more to me than the charming cowboy facade she thinks she has all figured out.

I want her to see me, not the caricature her brother has described.

And that realization is more unsettling than I care to admit.