bathroom like a crazed SuperBall. She pushed one hand through her hair, remembered too late the splash of white tempera paint across her palm and sighed. A soft wind blew up from the nearby sea, cooling the sweat on her forehead as Maggie went back to what she knew. Snow. On glass. Merry Christmas .
She’d painted these windows the year before and the year before that. She’d done the same for most of the businesses in Castle Bay. Just as, after the holidays, she’d be packing her paintbrushes around town to announce sales, clearances and moves to new locations.
The problem was, Maggie was all too ready for a jolt in her life. Okay, the floating was a little disturbing, but at least it was different. The sad truth was, she was stuck in a rut. A comfortable one, to be sure, with her house and her family and her job—but still a rut. Everything happened every day just like the previous one.
There was no excitement in her life.
Well, until yesterday.
“Poor Joe,” she murmured, remembering her latest ex-boyfriend. She’d broken up with him because he was boring. But the fact was, she was just as boring. Otherwise she never would have gone out with him in the first place.
He’d been like her last four boyfriends. Safe. Dependable. It was like dating a grown-up Boy Scout. Her sister, Nora, had always been the adventurous one, romance-wise. She led with her heart, took risks and chances. . . . And see where that has gotten her? Maggie’s brain whispered. A husband who cheated on her, then left her for the family babysitter.
After seeing her sister so crushed by love, Maggie had carefully selected only the straight-and-narrow guys to date. To protect her heart? Or because she was a coward?
And why was she now wishing for a little . . . excitement?
Instantly Culhane’s image rushed into her mind. The mental picture of him was so strong, so . . . great , she almost fell off the stupid ladder. Yes, he was dictatorial and pushy and probably crazy, since he insisted on this Fae business. But he was also sexy, interesting and so far from boring that his name couldn’t even be said in the same sentence with the word.
Still, boyfriend material? Not likely. One-night-stand material? Absolutely. “If only I were,” she mumbled. But there was enough Catholic-schoolgirl guilt left swimming around in her bloodstream to keep her from indulging in one-night stands that were headed nowhere.
So where did that leave her? No boring guys. No Culhane. No choice. That settled it. She reached out and swiped a brush filled with blue paint across a snowman’s hat. The minute she was through painting the hardware store windows, she was going inside to buy a shower massager. Screw men—Joe, poor bastard, Culhane and all the rest of the Y chromosomes in Castle Bay—no, make that California.
She’d just be on her own. Who needed a man, anyway? She was good. Nothing wrong with a well-developed rut.
Now she was even thinking in circles. What she really could have used at the moment was a little one-on-one time with an understanding female ear. Nice timing that both her sister and her best friend for more than ten years, Claire MacDonald, were out of town.
How long was it going to take Nora to get her chakras aligned, anyway? And why was it so important that Claire rush home for a holiday visit? “Don’t they know I need them?”
Maybe what she really needed was more friends.
When the new cell phone she’d bought only that morning to replace the one she’d crushed rang, Maggie stuck her paintbrush into her mouth and dug one-handed into her jeans pocket. “ ’Lo.”
“Maggie?”
Think of the chakra. “Nora, hi,” she said once the brush was out of her mouth. She climbed off the ladder and leaned against the wall so she’d have something to hold on to in case she started floating again. “I was just thinking about you. How’s it going in Santa Fe?”
“I have met the most incredible man. . . .”
“Man?”
“He’s
She’d painted these windows the year before and the year before that. She’d done the same for most of the businesses in Castle Bay. Just as, after the holidays, she’d be packing her paintbrushes around town to announce sales, clearances and moves to new locations.
The problem was, Maggie was all too ready for a jolt in her life. Okay, the floating was a little disturbing, but at least it was different. The sad truth was, she was stuck in a rut. A comfortable one, to be sure, with her house and her family and her job—but still a rut. Everything happened every day just like the previous one.
There was no excitement in her life.
Well, until yesterday.
“Poor Joe,” she murmured, remembering her latest ex-boyfriend. She’d broken up with him because he was boring. But the fact was, she was just as boring. Otherwise she never would have gone out with him in the first place.
He’d been like her last four boyfriends. Safe. Dependable. It was like dating a grown-up Boy Scout. Her sister, Nora, had always been the adventurous one, romance-wise. She led with her heart, took risks and chances. . . . And see where that has gotten her? Maggie’s brain whispered. A husband who cheated on her, then left her for the family babysitter.
After seeing her sister so crushed by love, Maggie had carefully selected only the straight-and-narrow guys to date. To protect her heart? Or because she was a coward?
And why was she now wishing for a little . . . excitement?
Instantly Culhane’s image rushed into her mind. The mental picture of him was so strong, so . . . great , she almost fell off the stupid ladder. Yes, he was dictatorial and pushy and probably crazy, since he insisted on this Fae business. But he was also sexy, interesting and so far from boring that his name couldn’t even be said in the same sentence with the word.
Still, boyfriend material? Not likely. One-night-stand material? Absolutely. “If only I were,” she mumbled. But there was enough Catholic-schoolgirl guilt left swimming around in her bloodstream to keep her from indulging in one-night stands that were headed nowhere.
So where did that leave her? No boring guys. No Culhane. No choice. That settled it. She reached out and swiped a brush filled with blue paint across a snowman’s hat. The minute she was through painting the hardware store windows, she was going inside to buy a shower massager. Screw men—Joe, poor bastard, Culhane and all the rest of the Y chromosomes in Castle Bay—no, make that California.
She’d just be on her own. Who needed a man, anyway? She was good. Nothing wrong with a well-developed rut.
Now she was even thinking in circles. What she really could have used at the moment was a little one-on-one time with an understanding female ear. Nice timing that both her sister and her best friend for more than ten years, Claire MacDonald, were out of town.
How long was it going to take Nora to get her chakras aligned, anyway? And why was it so important that Claire rush home for a holiday visit? “Don’t they know I need them?”
Maybe what she really needed was more friends.
When the new cell phone she’d bought only that morning to replace the one she’d crushed rang, Maggie stuck her paintbrush into her mouth and dug one-handed into her jeans pocket. “ ’Lo.”
“Maggie?”
Think of the chakra. “Nora, hi,” she said once the brush was out of her mouth. She climbed off the ladder and leaned against the wall so she’d have something to hold on to in case she started floating again. “I was just thinking about you. How’s it going in Santa Fe?”
“I have met the most incredible man. . . .”
“Man?”
“He’s
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