“Sure are! It’s my twenty–first. The biggie.”
“When you turned eighteen, you claimed that was the biggie,” Maggie reminded her, “and also your sixteenth.”
Pixie poked out her tongue and Maggie lunged for it, but Pixie was too fast and leapt out of her seat and out of harm’s way.
“One of these days, I will catch that cheeky tongue of yours, missy,” Maggie warned.
“You haven’t managed to in twenty–one years, and now you’re getting older and slower, you’ve got no chance!”
Maggie made to get up from her chair and Pixie ran away squealing.
Mac chuckled beside her. “I’d better go check on the crumble and get those steaks grilling.”
“Can I make a salad?” Maggie asked, getting to her feet.
“All done. My kitchen helper has whipped up coleslaw. Said it was your favorite.”
“It is,” Maggie said, following him into the kitchen.
The aroma of baked apples filled the space as Mac opened the oven and tested the crumble with a fork. “That seems about done,” he said, taking it out of the oven and resting it on a rack on the counter.
“If it tastes half as good as it smells, I might have to marry you,” Maggie said, then covered her mouth. Where on earth had that come from? she wondered. She was getting as spontaneous as Pixie.
“Okay,” Mac said.
Confused, Maggie said, “Okay, what?”
“You can marry me.”
She crossed her arms and said, “You know I didn’t mean it.”
Mac faked a knife to his heart and said, “I can feel another song coming on. ‘I know I said I’d marry you, but I didn’t really mean it…’.”
Maggie picked up a tea towel and threw it at him. “You’re a ham.”
He ducked, then came up singing, “I was ham to her… coleslaw…”
Maggie hadn’t laughed so much in way too long. Cowboy sure was fun to be with but he wasn’t relationship material—not for her anyway. He’d tire of the quiet life soon enough and head back to the bright lights of wherever he called home these days.
“Where do you usually call home?” she asked, suddenly needing to know and not understanding why.
“Used to be Philly until about a year ago, now Nashville,” he said and pulled a plate piled high with three thick Angus steaks from the fridge and dug around in a drawer for tongs to cook them with. “Ready?” he asked, and headed to where he had the grill heating on the front porch.
Maggie wondered why he didn’t say what he’d done in Philadelphia before he found fame as a country singer. “I’ll just close this back door,” she said, resisting the urge to interrogate him further. She closed and locked it.
“Why? It’s keeping the kitchen cool.”
“The smell of that crumble will be going up the noses of every bear within a ten–mile radius. Trust me, you don’t want to come back in here and find one helping himself to it—let alone tearing the kitchen to pieces in search of other sweet things to munch on.”
“There are bears around here?” Mac asked, incredulity in his voice.
“Well, duh! We are in the mountains, Cowboy. If a bear breaks into a house, it’s a three strikes and you’re shot dead rule around here. Never leave your doors open and sweet things out.”
“I had no idea. Thanks for telling me,” he said and shook his head. “Seems I’ve got lots to learn about living in the country.”
“You’ll pick it up fast enough,” she assured him. “And I’ll teach you how to handle that shotgun so you can fire warning shots if any get too close.”
“What if I accidentally shoot one?”
“You won’t, because I’ll teach you properly.”
“What else can you teach me, Maggie?” he asked and she detected an undercurrent of sensuousness in his meaning.
She shook her head to clear it. The guy wrote love songs all day. It wouldn’t do to go reading anything into his comments. Besides, Cowboy was way too young for her. And there was Trey. The man she’d loved for more than half her life was back in town. She was half–hoping that putting him off tonight would only make him keener to see her. Maggie wasn’t a tease—heaven knew there hadn’t been enough men in her life to tease—but she was determined to show Trey what he’d been missing by marrying Miss Stuck–up City Girl instead of her.
Back on the porch, Mac was setting the steaks onto the grill. They sizzled satisfyingly. Pixie was playing with a softball and bat she’d found somewhere, so Maggie went down the steps to join her. “Want me to pitch?”
“Sure!” she said and threw the ball to Maggie, who caught it neatly then pitched underarm to Pixie.
Naturally, she whacked way it over Maggie’s head.
“I’ve got it!” she heard Mac yell behind her as he pursued the ball, then under–armed it back to her.
“Thanks,” she said, turned and pitched again.
This time, the ball went sailing way out to left field. Mac retrieved it again, bringing it back to Maggie, who said, “You’re going to regret being her ball boy. She can do this all day long.”
He shrugged. “I don’t mind. I could do with the exercise.” He took a deep breath and said, “Phew, this altitude sure knocks you around, doesn’t it?”
“You’ll get over it in about three months when your blood adapts to living at ten–thousand feet.”
“Only… three… months?” he said, puffing, as he brought back yet another ball Pixie had hit to right field.
Two ball retrievals later, Mac went to turn the steaks and Maggie indicated to Pixie it was Mac’s turn at bat. She reluctantly handed it over and Mac assumed the position, wriggling his bottom to effect.
“So you think you can play, Cowboy?” Maggie muttered under her breath, then let fly with a fast underarm pitch that Mac didn’t see coming. He swung and missed. Pixie squealed with laughter and Maggie grinned.
He went to retrieve the ball and tossed it back. “You didn’t pitch that hard to Pix!” he protested.
“She’s only a child, you were looking as if you meant business.”
Maggie sent down another fast one and he missed again. The next one he clipped and Pixie called out, “Foul ball!”
“Yes, thank you, Pixie,” he said, an edge to his voice. “I could see that.”
“Just tryin’ to help,” she called back. “Come on, hit one out here! I’m getting bored!”
Maggie decided to cut him some slack and pitched a slow one, but Mac had been expecting more of the same he’d been getting and wasn’t prepared. He hit it, but it went solidly straight into Maggie’s hands.
She crowed triumphantly, holding the ball aloft as she did a victory dance and took a high–five from Pixie. Then she dropped the ball and blew on her hands.
“You okay?” Mac said, trotting up to her.
“Fine, just remind me to wear a glove in future.”
“I think there are probably some in the house,” he said, handing the bat to her. “Your turn.”
He returned to the pitcher’s plate—such as it was—and was about to pitch.
“You want to get that glove?” Maggie asked.
“Nah, I’ll be fine,” he said and pitched the first ball, a slow one that Maggie easily connected with and sent sailing almost to the edge of the river. Pixie scampered after it, picked it up, turned and threw it back to Mac.
As the ball smacked hard into his hand, he suddenly understood why Maggie had asked him if he wanted a glove. The kid sure packed a wallop. He resisted the urge to blow on his hands and pitched up again, this one a little faster.
Maggie whacked it with a grace he couldn’t help admiring and the ball sailed over his head right into Pixie’s sure hands. “Out!” she cried and ran in to grab the bat.
“I think I should check those steaks again,” Mac said. These girls were far tougher than any of the kids he used to play with on the block in Philly. They were wearing him out.
“I think it’s time to wash up for din
ner anyway. Pixie, go wash your hands,” Maggie said, no doubt out of habit, and Mac smiled.
He placed the bat and ball next to his guitar on the porch and said, “I can see us having some competitive ball games come the fourth.”
“Not to mention, apple bobbing, horseshoes and an Uncle Sam hat–making contest.”
“I thought apple–bobbing was for Halloween?”
“Trust, me, you’ll appreciate getting so wet if it’s a hot Fourth,” Maggie assured him.
“And I’ve never played Horseshoes,” he said. “This is turning out to be quite an education.”
“It’s not as dull in the country as you city–folks think,” Maggie said.
“Never said it was,” Mac assured her, holding the screen door open so they could go in and wash up as well.
“Can we eat outside?” Pixie asked, her arms loaded with silverware, napkins and a tablecloth. “The table there on the porch would be perfect. I can’t believe you bought all this furniture with you, Mac, and got it set up so fast.”
“There’s a secret to that. Rent fully–furnished.”
“Cool!” Pixie said. “I’m gonna do that with my first place when I move to LA.”
“You’re not moving to LA,” Maggie said, coming back from the bathroom.
“When I’m twenty–one I can do as I want,” Pixie said petulantly.
“You can do what you want when you graduate. But I will never let you move to LA! It’s scary enough having one sister live there. I’d never get any sleep worrying about both of you.”
“I’m not a baby, “Pixie said and stuck out her lip.
“No, you only act like one sometimes.”
Mac laughed at that and went to wash up.
Chapter Six
This has been a lovely evening,” Maggie said, sitting back and unable to finish any more of the delicious apple crumble.
The deep blue sky glowed with dark pinks and oranges and the stars were starting to become visible.
“Because of the company, the food, or the setting?” Mac asked, pouring her some wine. Pixie had gone inside to find a DVD to watch from the ranch owner’s extensive collection, leaving the adults alone with the cicadas and the sounds of the river in the distance.
“All three, definitely,” Maggie said without hesitation. “The setting speaks for itself, the steak was cooked to perfection, the crumble was to die for and I think we’ve all enjoyed each other’s company.”
“Pixie’s a good kid,” he said. “Not a lot of kids her age would want to hang out with oldies like us.”
Maggie smiled and said, “She’s gregarious and used to company of all ages. And you might have noticed she loves to talk. Sometimes about inappropriate things.”
“I’ve forgotten about the bacon and guacamole cheeseburger with crispy onion rings on the side already.”
She smiled and clinked her glass to his. “That girl has no filter. I have no idea where she gets it from.”
“I find her charming and spontaneous. You should be proud of the job you’ve done of raising her.”
“How do you know I raised her?”
“Because she didn’t show me any photos of your parents. May I ask what happened to them?”
Maggie put down her glass and stared at it for few moments as she rubbed her fingers up and down the stem, then looked up at him. “They died in a house–fire trying to find Pixie. Each thought she was still in the house and went to find her. She was only four when it happened.”
“Does she know the circumstances?”
“No, and I’d never tell her.”
“Never tell me what?” Pixie asked, pushing through the screen door and coming to stand beside Maggie.
Maggie had to think fast. Telling her anything would be better than the truth. She placed an arm around Pixie’s waist, pulling her closer and said, “I didn’t want you knowing, but it looks like the school is going to close down if we don’t get a huge boost in enrollments.”
“Hell!” Pixie said, pulling out a chair and sitting down heavily. “Is there anything you can do?”
Relieved she’d deflected the answer to the real question, Maggie said, “Unless someone gives birth to seven or eight five–year–olds between now and September, the school won’t open come Fall.”
“What will you do then?”
“About a job? I’ve been offered one over in Spruce Lake, but Maisie can’t go that far for work since she has to keep an eye on her invalid husband. And Jen wouldn’t want to drive that far,” she said, explaining the situation of her classroom assistants.
“Bummer!” Pixie said. “That school is your life. What will you do without it?”
Maggie reached over and rubbed Pixie’s back. “I don’t know, honey. Let’s not spoil a good evening talking about sad things. How come you’re not watching the DVD?”
She shrugged. “I’d rather chill with you guys.”
Maggie and Mac exchanged a look that she caught.
“Oh! You guys want to be alone, don’t you?”
“No, we’re perfectly happy having you join us,” Mac assured her easily and Maggie smiled her thanks. She didn’t want to be alone with Mac anymore. He might ask her questions she didn’t want to answer.
She got to her feet saying, “We’ll help you clean up and then get on our way.”
“No, leave it,” Mac said. “I’ll walk you ladies home. But it’s getting dark fast; I’ll go find a flashlight.”
He returned a few moments later and Maggie said, “Really, Cowboy, we’re just over the fence. We’ll be fine.”
But Mac was having nothing of it. He handed the flashlight to Pixie, then linked his arms through theirs so one was on each side of him and marched them down the steps and onto the lawn.
They made their way through the coppice of trees that hid one house from the other, Pixie chattering all the way. “I hoped you were going to play your guitar tonight, Mac. You could’ve serenaded Maggie.”
“Pixie!” her sister said.
“Maybe another night,” Mac said easily as they got to the fence. He started to climb it and Maggie stayed him.
“We’ll be fine. This is our driveway and it leads all the way to the house.”
“But what if there are bears out there?” he asked, concern in his voice.
Maggie appreciated it but assured him, “The way Pixie’s been chattering, no bear would come anywhere within a mile of us.”
“Then take the flashlight in case you come across a snake or something.”
“And what? Hit it over the head with it?” Pixie said and giggled.
Maggie jumped down onto the other side of the fence and turned to Mac. “Thanks for a wonderful evening. We’ll have to return the favor when Gramps gets here.”
“I’m available tomorrow night,” he said too quickly and amended it to, “Actually, my calendar is free every night for the next three months, so don’t go feeling pressured or anything.”
“We’ll see how Gramps is tomorrow after his long drive.”
“I’m sure he’d love to hear you play,” Pixie said. “And accompany you with his spoons!” She snorted with laughter and Maggie joined in.
“Am I missing something?” Mac asked.
“You’ll wish you were when Gramps brings out the spoons!” Pixie said and skipped off down the lane, the flashlight’s beam bobbing in front of her.”
“I guess you’d better go,” Mac said, feeling reluctant about saying goodbye. He lifted Maggie’s hand to his lips and kissed it, saying, “Goodnight, Maggie. Sleep tight.”
Maggie walked in a daze all the way back to the cabin. The lights were already on, so Pixie had made it safely home.
As she rounded the last bend in the driveway, she could see a flashy sports car and hear raised voices. Breaking into a run, she took the front steps two at a time and burst through the front door.
Trey was standing in the living room, dwarfing it. Pixie was opposite him, hands on hips, saying, “I told you it’s no
ne of your business where we’ve been!”
“Trey? Pixie? What’s going on?” she asked, coming to stand between them.
Trey lunged for her and pulled her into his arms. “There you are! I’ve been waiting in here for hours worrying about you! Where have you been? Why didn’t you take your cell with you so I could call? I thought you said you were too sick to go out with me tonight, so where were you?”
Maggie shrugged out of his arms and said as calmly as she could, “We were visiting a neighbor. I didn’t feel like taking my cell. And, after a sleep this afternoon, I felt better.”
“You could’ve called. It wasn’t too late for me to rebook!”
Maggie turned to Pixie and said, “Would you excuse us, Pix. I need to talk to Trey.”
Pixie shot Trey a look that clearly said he’d better not give her sister a hard time and stomped upstairs to bed.
Feeling uncomfortable that he’d apparently let himself into the house and waited for them, Maggie linked her arm in Trey’s and drew him towards the door. “I wasn’t up to a drive to anywhere tonight and, as I said, Gramps is coming in the morning, so I need to be here for him.”
She kept on walking down the steps and to his car, then released his arm and said, “Thank you for dropping by, Trey. How about I give you a call in the next couple of days?”
“I’m only here for a week!”
His neediness was starting to grate on her nerves. It was enough to find him arguing with Pixie, and now he wanted her to make time for him. “So’s my grandfather.”
“What? That’s it? I came all the way here to this backwater to see you and you can’t find the time for me?”
“I thought you said yesterday, you came all the way here to this backwater to see your ailing father.” No doubt to check the details of his will, she wanted to add.
What on earth had she ever seen in Trey? He was nothing but a selfish jerk. His trophy wife had left him and, now he was after a bit of tail, he thought she’d be an easy score.
“Maybe I’ll have more time to spend with you next time you’re in town,” she said as calmly as she could and took a step back, Trey was standing way too close for her liking.
He stepped towards her and gripped her arms. “You’ll make time for me now!” he growled, pulling her against him, crushing her lips with his.
Colorado Woman (The Hansen Women) Page 5