by Laurel Greer
She hadn’t talked to him about it, had left the bagged T-shirt at his desk and rushed out with a cursory goodbye while he was checking out Mrs. Brooks’s novels. He’d texted her a pointed Very nice to see you.
She hadn’t known how to reply beyond a You, too. And she had no idea what she’d say to him when she saw him this evening for Ruth’s lesson.
She didn’t face her friend, stayed focused on the tray. And readied herself to evade like a guerrilla army. “Hey, Em. Anything you want to know, I’m here for. Four months is a key age for cats, so I’m sure you have lots of questions.”
“I’m not talking about Splotches.”
Maggie turned slowly, raising an eyebrow.
Emma’s insistent expression was at odds with how tenderly she cradled her sixteen-week-old calico kitten. Her chestnut hair was up in a ballerina bun—unlike Maggie’s untamable mop, Emma’s sleek strands wouldn’t dare fall out of the just-so style. Emma wore a navy blue blazer over a white blouse and jeans. Her stiletto heels gave Maggie arch pain just looking at them.
“You must be spending a fortune in lint rollers if you’re cuddling her in your work clothes,” Maggie said mildly, waving Emma in and stroking the kitten under the chin as soon as she got close enough to reach.
“I’m quickly becoming the pet store’s most frequent customer—” Emma cut herself off, straightening. She handed over the kitten and pinned Maggie down with a determined squint. “Stop getting me off topic! You were smooching in the library with that hottie librarian, and I had to find out from my mother, who heard from Mrs. Brooks?”
“Oh, hi there, precious,” Maggie said to the cat, ignoring the question again. She was not talking about it, not even with her bestie.
“I know my intel is good, Maggie.”
Her friend’s confidence wasn’t ill-placed. If anyone had their ear to the ground in Sutter Creek, it was Emma, who worked in marketing for her uncle’s ski resort and had been tapped into the gossip supply chain since birth. The Hallorans were longtime residents, and Emma’s parents managed a ranch that had been handed down through the generations. And by owning Sutter Mountain Resort, Emma’s uncle essentially owned half the town.
Maggie trusted Emma. She really did. But she trusted her gut more. And her gut had always kept her safe.
Alone.
Exactly, safe. Maggie snuggled the young calico under her chin, taking a deep breath. Nothing centered her like animals did. But even Splotches’s steady purring couldn’t shake the jitters she’d been feeling since she kissed Asher yesterday.
“Let me take a look at you, Splotches.” She started examining the kitten, feeling to see if his adult teeth had started to come in and checking his ears and nose.
Emma flopped in the client chair against the wall next to the sink and glared at Maggie. “Can you look and dish at the same time?”
“Can and will are very different things, Em.”
Emma growled.
“Oh, are you here for a well animal visit, too?”
“Maggie! Seriously.”
Maggie paused her exam, placing the kitten on the table and holding it to stop it from scrambling away. “I’m being a thousand percent serious. In that I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Obviously. But why?”
Because I’m missing whatever quality it takes for people to stick around. And I’m not pulling a perfectly nice man and his daughter into my dysfunction.
Instead of confessing to that terrifying truth, she lifted a shoulder. “Because the kiss didn’t mean anything.”
“Liar. If it didn’t mean anything, you wouldn’t be putting on the secretive routine.”
Oof. Nothing like a best friend to toss out truth bombs as if they were Halloween candy.
“Was it a crappy kiss?” Emma prodded.
“It was fine.” Maggie palpated the kitten’s abdomen. Her cheeks heated as the memory of pressing her lips to Asher’s flooded her senses. His quiet control. Firm hands in her hair, thumb idly stroking her cheek. The hint of cologne on his skin. The hint of desire in his eye.
She’d be reliving those twenty seconds for years.
Taking a deep breath, she put on her stethoscope and listened to the cat’s breathing.
A slow, satisfied smile stretched Emma’s perfectly lipsticked mouth. “Thought so.”
“Shh,” Maggie said, pointing at her ear.
Emma waited patiently until Maggie removed her stethoscope. “Are you going to kiss him again? See him again? Go on a date? You should go on a date.” She cocked her head in thought. “Oh! The harvest days out at the ranch. He’s new to town, probably hasn’t gone yet.”
“He has a brother to play tour guide.”
“But you’re good at it.”
Maggie sighed. “I’m seeing enough of him with the interior finishing he’s doing on the expansion. Plus, I’m helping him with his dog. He adopted Jackson, in case you hadn’t heard.”
“I had heard. He’s clearly perfect, Maggie, if he’s able to take on that big galoot. And his daughter sounds like a sweetheart.”
“She is. I’m giving her obedience lessons tonight.”
Emma’s smile grew contemplative. “Probably tough to fit in more kissing with his daughter around.”
“There won’t be more kissing.” Asher deserved someone who matched his belief in love.
She swallowed. Picturing Asher embracing anyone else in the nonfiction section made her stomach lurch. Jealousy and nausea came in the same shade of green, apparently.
Maggie picked up the kitten and nuzzled his scruff. Splotches was her last appointment of the day, so she didn’t need to hurry. Not with the cat, anyway. With her friend, she needed to give some sort of diversionary answer. Emma clearly wasn’t going to back down without some solid reasoning.
“Even if I was wanting to date someone, which I’m not, I wouldn’t get involved with a guy who has a kid, Emma. Especially not one who’s still grieving.”
Emma frowned. “Do you think he’s not ready to start seeing someone?”
“I have no idea. But either way, I can’t give him and his daughter the kind of stability they need.”
“Can’t and won’t are two very different things, Maggie,” Emma said, throwing Maggie’s earlier claim back in her face. “I wouldn’t shove you in just anyone’s direction, you know.” She crossed her arms. “You gotta have high standards. But the other day I went into the library to get a few books I had on hold, and I can say—definitively—that I will never look at barcode scanning the same way again. His hands, Maggie—”
Footsteps echoed in the hall and Maggie waved with one hand, cutting Emma off.
“Shh! Do you want Evan to hear?” Being disgustingly in love, Maggie’s receptionist had capital-O opinions on her love life. Mainly that she needed one.
And Evan was usually right about most things—the guy was whip smart and kept her life organized down to the fourth decimal point—but he was way off when it came to this.
“Would getting Evan on my side change your mind?” Emma asked.
“No.”
“I just want you to be happy, Maggie.”
“Partnering up isn’t the universal answer to happiness, you know.”
The corners of Emma’s mouth turned down, but she didn’t disagree.
A couple of hours later, Maggie had finished up with Splotches’s checkup, eaten dinner and obsessed about what to wear for Ruth’s lesson for a good half hour before heading around back of the clinic to the expansion. Man, it was weird not having a blue-gray shadow.
Said blue-gray shadow bounded over to her two seconds after she opened the main door to the training barn. He jammed his nose against her rib cage and snorted, eyes pleading.
“Oh, don’t give me that face, sir. I know for a fact Asher fed you today. And came home for lunch,
and then I bet Ruth’s been dishing out all sorts of love since school let out.” Even so, she dropped to her knees and let Jackson flop in her lap. Well, his head and shoulders, anyway. His front legs stuck out like umbrella spokes and his back half sprawled on the floor.
Ruth raced over wearing pigtail braids, a unicorn T-shirt and an eager expression. “We’ve been playing fetch down the hallway. He doesn’t always come back when I call him, though.”
Rhythmic hammering, coming from Lachlan’s future office, punctuated Ruth’s words. Asher was hard at work, then. And not in the main area, where, now that it was cleaned of any construction mess, Maggie planned to work with Ruth and the dog. Well, being in different rooms would make it easier to focus. Since yesterday’s kiss, her fingers had become mighty interested in walking their way up Asher’s back again. Which wouldn’t be happening again, and definitely wasn’t an appropriate thing to focus on while teaching his daughter how to properly issue canine commands.
“Tell you what.” Jackson lifted his head and looked at her expectantly. “No, goofball, not you.” She focused on Ruth. “If you let your dad know I’m here, I’ll get set up. And we’ll start with basic behavior. Sit, lie down, come. It’s a lot about tone. By the end of the evening, I bet you’ll have it figured out.”
Thankfully, Ruth didn’t pick up on how Maggie was using her as a messenger, one hundred percent a chicken move. Asher didn’t come out to greet her, either.
She should have been happy about that. But part of her wanted to go sulk in the corner.
Gah. Ridiculous. Both that she wanted his attention, and that she’d think he’d take the initiative when it was so obvious she was trying to avoid him.
I’m not here for Asher. I’m here for Ruth.
She kept reminding herself of that over the next forty-five minutes whenever her thoughts shifted to the man continuing to hammer, drill and saw in the other room. The noise was constant enough that it didn’t seem to bother Jackson too much. He jumped on occasion, but didn’t whine. Maybe her efforts from the past month hadn’t gone to as much waste as she’d thought.
She worked on building Ruth’s confidence and assertiveness until it was clear the girl was starting to run out of steam.
“Done for tonight?” Maggie asked. “You’ve got the three commands down, I think.” She could see why Lachlan liked teaching so much. Remembering Ruth’s smile from the end of the lesson when she had given an order and how Jackson had snapped to attention, sat his butt on the ground and then lay down, would keep Maggie going for a while.
Jackson flopped to his side and harrumphed.
Ruth joined him, using his rib cage as a pillow. “I kinda want to read my book,” she admitted, expression sheepish. “Sorry.”
“Oh, geez, never apologize for that.” Maggie nodded at the dog. “He loves to be read to, if you want to give it a go.”
Actually, she should suggest that to Asher. Jackson’s anxiety prevented him from being physically reliable enough for someone with Parkinson’s, but maybe she could keep training him for a different job. He was so sweet around kids—he’d probably love a reading support job. The school and library programs that used dogs to increase literacy were fascinating, and with how much Asher prioritized children’s literacy, she could see Asher being on board with adding a dog to the library repertoire, especially if it meant he got to take Jackson to work sometimes.
Ruth scrambled to get her book, then resumed her lounging with her nose buried in the novel, a dog-eared copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.
“That looks well loved,” Maggie commented, heart warming at the smile on the girl’s face.
“Yeah, Dad read it to me already.” Ruth glanced away from the pages to study Maggie. “What house are you in?”
“Ravenclaw, I think.” She wasn’t a plotter like a Slytherin.
And not nearly brave enough to be a Gryffindor.
That voice sounded suspiciously like Emma’s.
“I’m Ravenclaw, too,” Ruth said. “And I think Jackson’s a Hufflepuff.”
Maggie smiled. Man, she loved Ruth’s creativity. Getting to parent such a fantastic girl would be rewarding as anything. Startled by the thought, she cleared her throat. “Oh, for sure. That would make a good Halloween costume for him.”
Ruth nodded, gaze flicking back to Hogwarts and magic.
Time to say a quick goodbye to Asher and be on her way.
She hurried to the office and lurked in the doorway for a few seconds. Asher with power tools continued to provide a heck of a view. Warmth spread through her limbs as she watched his back muscles flex. Yep, those were the ones her fingers wanted to explore again.
As soon as he set down the saw, she called out, “Hey. I’m on my way out.”
He turned, taking off the safety goggles he was wearing over the navy plastic frames that made his face just that much more alluring. The goggles dangled from one of his fingers. Yeah, Emma had been so right about his hands...
“Uh, Maggie?” he asked, curiosity flickering in his dark eyes. “Everything okay?”
“Sure.” Mouth dry, she swallowed. “Lesson went well. We’ve established that the dog is a Hufflepuff.”
Asher laughed. “Of course you did. Are you a Potterhead?”
“I’ll admit to that.” She crossed her arms. “I have an idea. What would you think about me trying to train Jackson as a literacy support dog? It wouldn’t be as involved as service dog training. I could fit it in, even once my new puppy arrives.”
He came closer, leaned a shoulder on the door frame. He smelled like wood shavings and warm cotton. And given he was a little sweaty, his lips would probably be salty. Which sounded like something she needed to test out...
“Intriguing. I like it. Let me look into it.” He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek.
“Uh, great.”
“Maybe next time I’m here, Ruth won’t be,” he murmured in her ear.
She closed her eyes, trying to keep her breathing even. “And what would that accomplish?”
“Who knows?” He traced her jawline with a finger, making her shiver.
Opening her eyes, she forced a stern expression. “I know I gave you the wrong impression when I kissed you yesterday, and I’m so sorry that I opened you up to that, because now the whole freaking town is going to know what happened...”
He sobered. “I’d love to say it didn’t matter, but being gossiped about doesn’t always end well for me. And I have Ruth to think of.”
“Right. Both important things to consider. Also, people might make assumptions that there’s something going on between us.”
A dark brown brow lifted. “Isn’t there?”
She backed up against the other side of the doorframe. “There shouldn’t be.”
“But there is.”
She locked eyes with him. “Seems so.”
He nodded slowly. “How does that line up with you not wanting to be in a relationship? I mean, I’m not calling this a relationship—” he rushed to correct himself “—but it’s definitely interest, maybe even involvement, and I kind of need specifics on where that starts and ends. I’m not ready to open Ruth up to me seeing someone yet.”
Maggie’s heart stuttered. Between envisioning Asher reading Harry Potter to his daughter in that low voice of his and seeing him putting Ruth’s needs first, she was close to melting into a woman-shaped puddle on the newly laid floor. He did fatherhood right. Something completely foreign to her own experience. She used to yearn for that bond between father and daughter before she gave up on believing her dad loved her. If she was being honest with herself, she lacked that closeness in most of her relationships.
And yeah, being alone meant not getting hurt anymore.
But then, alone hurt in and of itself.
She studied Asher, not knowing how to respond to his need to
categorize the feelings between them. “I—I don’t want to get between you and Ruth. And being involved beyond a couple of spontaneous kisses—”
—sounds really tempting.
“Isn’t what you want, I know.”
But...was it? If Asher could be so good as a father, could he be a good partner, too? And if she took a step in that direction, would they be able to build that connection?
She’d never believed herself capable. And she didn’t see how it could turn into a long-term thing. That would mean being a mother to Ruth, something she’d never seen herself as qualified to do. Her own sure hadn’t provided any appropriate role modeling.
She buried her face in her hands. “This is all way too much, way too soon.”
“What, kissing?” He sounded puzzled.
She slid her hands down so she could see his face. “Sort of.”
Couldn’t exactly admit that she’d gone from kissing to hypothesizing about parenting his daughter.
“I don’t know how to be what you would need,” she explained. “And even if I could, none of it’s good for Ruth.” She cupped his cheeks and pulled him down a little so she could kiss him. Could savor the roughness of his beard on her palms and his tongue tangling with hers and his taste flooding her senses.
Tearing away from him before her impulsiveness got them caught again, and this time by the one person who’d be hurt the most, she backed out of the doorway.
He reached up with one hand and braced himself on the upper frame. Rubbing his lips with his other hand, he let out a low, rumbling laugh. “I dunno, Maggie Reid. You’re at least a little bit of what I need.”
* * *
A little after nine on Saturday evening, Asher stood in Lachlan’s office with his hands on his hips, glancing between the doorless cabinets and the shivering dog. Getting all the fronts installed, his goal for the night, was taking twice as long because he was using a manual screwdriver so as not to aggravate Jackson’s sensitivities.
And the extra time in the office with only the dog for company was giving him way too much time to think. Ruth was off at her first sleepover since they moved to town, a clear sign she was making steps to adapt to life in Sutter Creek. So how would she feel about him making steps, too? Would she judge him?