“Boring, gardener, and cheap?” Hunter tsked. “Sounds like an accountant.”
“He’s a music teacher,” she said, casually selecting a peach.
“Like piano?”
“Like played at Carnegie Hall.” She gave it a squeeze and set it back down. “Then he became a professor of music at the university.” It was Hunter’s turn to roll his eyes. “And I said he was sweet, not boring.”
“Tomato, tomahto.”Hunter took the peach back and slid it into the bag, then followed her to the bin of corn. “You play music together and he does your shopping. When did that start?”
“The music was from nearly day one, and he started shopping for me when ...” She paused, as if flipping through her mental calendar, then smiled, big and warm and—
“Oh, when I moved in with him.”
Hunter choked. “You live with him?”
Jesus, he hadn’t seen that coming. Besides the flowers and note, there hadn’t been a single sign of a male presence in her house. Normally, competition wouldn’t faze Hunter.
This guy was different. He had everything going for him that Hunter had, except he was sweet, a gardener, and knew braille. Hell, the fucker had probably minored in braille while studying the different species of flora.
“Lived,” she clarified. “Then I bought the house next door.”
Because that made itsomuch better. She’d decided it was safer to move in with a practical stranger than confide in Hunter. A strange sense of, well ...Shit. He was pretty sure it was jealousy overtaking him.
Hunter, the king of confident-casual, was jealous. Over an average Arthur—who didn’t sound so average.
“Why did you move out?” he asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer but desperate to get some insight into what Mackenzie had gone through. Help him fill in the gaps he’d missed.
“Because I needed to stand on my own two feet. And I got tired of losing at poker.” She grinned. “Did I mention Arthur is a Vietnam vet who runs high-stakes poker games out of his garage?”
Which made the guy at least seventy.
“I think you forgot that part,” he said drily.
“Sorry, it must have slipped my mind,” she said, not sorry at all. “Arthur helps me out around the house, does my shopping, and transcribes my music. In return, I raise the house’s odds by wearing my mirrored blind-girl glasses to poker night.”
Hunter laughed. So did Mackenzie. And,man oh man, he didn’t know if it was the sexy grin that lit him up or the fact that she wasn’t shacking up with some guy named Arthur, but suddenly Hunter’s shoulders felt a whole hell of a lot lighter.
“I think I get more out of the deal than him. But he likes to cook for someone, and I like to eat,” she said as she put corn in the bag.
Hunter wanted to point out that while she had a wide spread of produce and dog treats, she didn’t have a single ingredient in there to make an actual meal. But he held his tongue. “It sounds like a good trade-off.”
“It is.” Her smile faded, and Hunter’s heart pinched.
“Except?”
“Arthur wants to move to Florida,” she explained. “His house is too big for one person, and his older brother lives there. They’ve talked about living closer to each other, even consolidating to a bachelor pad like they had when they were younger.”
“You’re afraid he’s staying here for you?” Hunter guessed.
“It isn’t the Tennessee winters keeping him here,” she said, her bravery breaking his heart. “If I can show him I’ll be fine on my own, I know he’ll feel better about moving.”
“And who will be with you?” Hunter asked.
“I’ve always got Muttley,” she said, those big fathomless eyes looking up at him. “And for the next few weeks, I have you.”
He wanted to tell her that she’d always have him but knew that in a few months he’d be driving through some big-city USA and Mackenzie would be here. Alone in her little suburb of Nashville, relying on some punk behind the counter to give her fair change.
“Mackenzie—”
