Page 13 of Maggie’s Match

Six hours later, he pulled off his ruined jeans and shirt and tossed them into the trash. Standing in just his boxers and socks, he debated whether he should wrap a horse blanket around his hips or just walk back to the house as he was.

“That’s a sight,” a female voice said from behind him.

Glancing over, he noticed a redheaded woman roughly twice his age leaning against the doorframe and running her eyes over him.

He yanked the horse blanket up and wrapped it around his hips.

“Can I help you?” he asked, feeling foolish.

“You sure can,” the woman said, moving closer and running a well-manicured fingertip over his chest. “I’ve been so bored lately. Imagine my surprise when I heard there was a new boy toy in town.” She purred as her finger trailed lower over his pecs.

He took a step back, or was about to, when someone cleared their throat.

Glancing over, he saw Maggie standing in the same doorway.

“There you are, Mrs. Tillerson,” Maggie said, a little clipped. “Becca and I were waiting for you up at the house.”

Mrs. Tillerson smiled and added. “Oh, I just took a detour to see what all the fuss was about.”

“Fuss?” Maggie asked, tilting her head.

“Sure. The whole town has heard how the Barrantes have hired an impressive new veterinarian”—she turned and ran her eyes over his chest again—“to get to the bottom of those poor sick cattle.”

He stepped back and shifted the blanket a little higher over his body.

“Well, now you’ve seen him,” Maggie said. “How about we head up to the house to conduct our business?” She turned to go.

He wanted to stop Maggie from leaving. Wanted to assure her that there was nothing between him and the older, albeit sexy, woman.

Instead, Maggie motioned towards the door and waited for the other woman to leave first before turning and following. But not before her eyes traveled over his naked chest once very quickly.

Her eyes were too shadowed to see if there was a spark of interest or lust like there had been in Mrs. Tillerson’s eyes. Still, he could hope.

Once he was alone, he tossed down the horse blanket, walked to the back of the barn, and hosed himself down. He was covered in bodily fluids from the multiple autopsies he’d conducted over the past few hours. He should have worn his apron, but he’d been too preoccupied with the lack of sleep to think to bring them out to the barn earlier.

Now, he was too hungry, tired, horny, and in desperate need of a real shower and clean clothes to give a fuck who saw him half-naked.

Once he was sure he’d cleaned all of the gunk off his skin, he marched up to the house, toed off his wet socks and shorts, and jumped in the shower. When he was dressed in clean clothes, he stepped outside and saw Becca and Maggie talking in hushed tones on the back porch.

“Ladies,” he said smoothly, and opened the beer he’d grabbed from the fridge. He took a long pull of the cold liquid and asked, “Problems?”

“Yes,” Becca said at the same time that Maggie answered, “No.”

His eyebrows shot up as he glanced between the pair of them.

“Mrs. Tillerson owns the building we’re renting for our bakery,” Becca said. “She’s trying to raise the rent, and we haven’t even opened our doors yet.”

He frowned and opened his mouth, only to have Maggie jump in.

“Don’t worry. She can’t do that. We have a signed lease agreement.” Maggie sighed and touched Becca’s arm. “Trust me.”

“She claims she can change it just as long as she gives us notice.” Becca waved a paper. “This notice.”

“If you want, I can have my uncle take a look at the lease,” he offered.

“That’s right, your uncle is Grant Holton,” Becca said cheerfully. “Would you talk to him for us?” she practically begged.

“Of course,” he agreed, but then he noticed Maggie’s frown. “What?”