“Mr. and Mrs. Stanton,” Matt said graciously. “Please come in.”
“Maggie, are you all right?” her father asked.
Her mother came and hugged her. “My poor baby. Get your things. We’ll take you home.”
“I don’t want to go home,” Maggie told her.
Her father glanced at Matt. “Honey, we want to talk to you, and it’ll be much easier at home.”
“Anyone thirsty?” Matt asked. “I’ll go get some lemonade.”
“No,” Maggie said sharply. “I’m not thirsty and neither are my parents.”
“Mags, I was trying to be polite—give you some privacy.”
“We don’t need privacy.” She turned back to her parents. “I’m going to stay here for a while.”
Her parents both started talking at once.
“Margaret, I understand how unhappy you must feel about Brock and Vanessa—”
“Vanessa’s gone to Brock’s,” her father told her. “What’s she’s done is inexcusable. It’s not fair that you should be the one to leave. And moving here seems rather sudden and—”
“Wait a minute,” Maggie said. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Matt has lots of room here, and he offered me a place to stay. We’re friends, Dad. It’s like me moving in with Angie.”
Her father glanced at Matt again, this time sizing him up. “You don’t really expect us to believe that, do you?” He turned to Matt. “Maybe you should get that lemonade, son.”
But Matt, thank God, knew that she desperately didn’t want to be alone with her parents. “Sure,” he said easily, but then turned to Maggie. “Want to give me a hand?”
She nearly bolted toward the kitchen.
“Go on into the living room,” she heard Matt say, before he followed her and shut the kitchen door behind him.
“What’s this with Vanessa and Brock?” he asked, as he crossed to the cabinets and took out four tall glasses.
“I got home last night just in time to see Brock kissing Vanessa good night,” she told him, sitting at the kitchen table and putting her head in her hands. “She actually slept with him.”
Matt swore. And then he put a couple of aspirin on the table in front of her, along with a glass of water.
“Thank you. Apparently Brock’s been interested in Van all along,” Maggie told him. “She and I had a little confrontation.”
“What a jackass,” he said. “So that’s what last night was about, huh?”
Maggie nodded, unable to meet his eyes. “I can’t believe I was too stupid to notice that I wasn’t the one he really wanted.”
Matt took a pitcher of lemonade out of the refrigerator and stirred it with a long spoon. “Maggie, the man wanted to marry you.”
“Until Vanessa became available. Then it was no contest.”
“But you didn’t want to marry him—”
“That’s not the point,” she nearly shouted at him. “God, how many times back in high school did boys ask me out because they wanted to get closer to Van?”
“Too often,” Matt said quietly. “It sucked. I remember how hurt you used to be.”
“I thought that was over with,” she admitted. “I thought people were finally interested in me, for who I am, not for whose sister I am. But I was wrong. I feel… insignificant and… worthless and stupid.”
And when she’d come to him, he’d rejected her, too. Matt’s heart sank. Damn, he’d thought he was doing the right thing last night, and it had been exactly, perfectly wrong.
“Maggie—” he started, but she cut him off.
“I’ll get over it,” she said. “I always did before. But I’ve got to confess, I’m seriously considering moving someplace where no one’s ever heard of Vanessa Stanton.”
“Maybe that’s not a bad idea,” Matt said. “I’ll make a deal with you. In three months, if I don’t win my inheritance, we’ll get one of those big camper things and cruise the United States.”
Maggie looked up at him with the most peculiar expression. “You mean a… recreational vehicle?”
“Yeah.” He grinned at her. “It’ll be a blast. What do you say?” It was always good to have a plan B. Especially since he really didn’t expect plan A to work.
She put her face in her hands. It was hard to tell whether she was laughing or groaning.
“As for right now, I know what to tell your parents.” He handed her the pitcher of lemonade. “Carry this out, will you?”
“What?” asked Maggie. “What are you going to tell them?”
Matt picked up the tray with the glasses. “They’re not going to believe that there’s nothing going on between us. We can deny it until the end of time, but they’re going to think you’re living here with me. You know, with me.”
“But it’s not true.”
“I know that and you know that, but I’m telling you that denying it will only make them crazy. Just follow my lead,” he said with a smile. “Think of this as an improvisational skit.”
“I hate improv,” Maggie muttered, following him out of the kitchen.
The Stantons looked up as Maggie and Matt came into the living room. They were sitting stiffly on those chairs his father had bought—the uncomfortable ones with wooden legs that were curved into bird’s claws. Matt put the tray down on top of the coffee table.
“Just set the lemonade over here, then come sit next to me, babe,” he said to Maggie.
Babe? She didn’t say it, but the look she was giving him nearly made him laugh out loud.
He poured the lemonade, handed glasses to Mr. and Mrs. Stanton, and then patted the couch next to him.
Slowly, she approached. Slowly, she sat down. And he draped an arm around her shoulders. “Mags and I discussed it in the kitchen,” he told her parents, “and we decided that you should know the truth.”
Mr. Stanton nodded. “That would be appreciated.”
“Last night I asked Maggie to marry me,” Matt told them. He could feel disbelief radiating out of Maggie, and it was all he could do not to laugh.
“What?” said Mrs. Stanton.
“What?” said Mr. Stanton.
“Matt!” said Maggie.
He shut her up with a quick kiss. “It’s no secret that I’ve been crazy about her for years,” he told them, then looked at Maggie. “Right, babe?”
The Stantons—all three of them—wore identical looks of shock. Matt knew not to kiss Maggie again. If he did, they’d all fall out of their chairs.
Mrs. Stanton looked at Maggie. “But…”
“She said yes,” Matt said, squeezing her shoulder.
“I said no,” she countered, elbowing him in the ribs.
“Obviously, we’re still working it out,” he said quickly, putting his hand on her knee, and sliding it up her smooth, bare thigh. His shorts looked good on her. “You can understand her hesitation. She’s not sure if this is the real thing or if she’s just on the rebound.”
“I see.” Mr. Stanton was staring at Matt’s hand, still moving north on Maggie’s thigh.