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“I assumed as much.”
“Simon.”
Her face scrunched up. “Excuse me?”
“My last name is Simon.”
He waited for any sign of recognition, but there was nothing.
“Okay. Simon. It’s a good name.”
“My family’s crazy.”
Her eyes slid from his and whatever spell they had was broken. “Let’s not talk about families. I don’t do that real well.” She pushed away from the counter and nodded at the unopened bottle of wine. “Guess we didn’t get to the wine.”
He was being dismissed, but Maverick was okay with that. He felt as if he’d glimpsed a small slice of Charlie’s life and it intrigued him even more. And he’d shared his name with her. Of course she still had no idea who he was, but surprisingly, he wanted her to know. He wanted her to know everything.
It was just going to take a bit of time, and call him crazy, but Maverick was starting to think that a month in Fisherman’s Landing wasn’t going to be nearly long enough.
“Bring Connor by Friday after school. I’ll see what I can do with him on the piano.”
She followed him to the front door, her hand reaching for his when he would have pushed the door open.
“Thank you, Rick Simon.”
He bent toward her and brushed his mouth across hers once more, loving how she shivered against him when he blew hot air onto her neck. “You can thank me Friday night.”
“I’ll have to think about it,” she quipped and he stepped out into the cold New England air and headed for his truck.
“You do that,” he replied with a smile.
It was a smile that didn’t leave his face the whole way home.
Chapter Twelve
Trying to leave the garage early on a Friday was next to impossible, but Davis insisted on doing the last oil change of the day and Charlie was able to swing by St. Vincent, her brother’s schoo
l, scoop up Connor and rush home for a quick shower.
Deciding not to make a big deal of it, she pulled on jeans, a baby sweater and her Doc’s. Rick had already seen the merchandise so to speak and it’s not as if she had a closet full of seductive clothes anyway. She blew out her hair, brushed it until it shone, and touched up her eyes with a bit of dark grey liner and neutral shadow. She grabbed the tube of mascara to complete the look and then ran some gloss over her lips.
She made a face when she glanced at her nails. They were once again chipped and the red polish from last weekend was long gone. There was nothing she could do about it now, and really, she’d already spent way too much time on her looks.
At ten minutes after five she pulled into the driveway of the old McLaren house. The days were stretching out a bit longer and the sun left an eerie glow over the top of the house. She’d always loved this place—the estate was on several acres of prime frontage—and she’d been glad to hear someone had bought it years earlier.
Though Rick’s brother hadn’t done much, other than the basics and the addition of the new outbuilding.
She wondered about the guy. From what little gossip she’d heard in town, he was a reclusive man who rarely visited his home here and when he did, he never ventured into town. He had anything he needed delivered and no one had even caught a glimpse of him.
She smiled, getting out of her truck, and wondered if he was as hot as his brother, Rick. She was still smiling when she climbed the porch and knocked on the door, but after a few moments no one answered and she decided to head to the outbuilding.
“Come on, Connor. This way.”
They trudged through the snow, the path well worn, and when they rounded the house, she saw a soft glow falling from the windows of the outbuilding. As they got closer the door swung open and the man who’d haunted her dreams all week leaned against the doorframe.
Charlie’s heart skipped a beat and she didn’t even try to keep the big ass grin off her face. Holy hell, but he looked good. He was dressed for the country, in faded jeans, boots and a plain white T-shirt underneath blue plaid flannel. His hair was mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it more than a few times, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved since she’d seen him on Wednesday.
God, she loved that rough look.
