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She filled their glasses again.
“To horses,” he said, tapping her glass.
“And safe places for them to sleep.”
“You still haven’t said too much about yourself.”
“What else do you want to know?” she asked, squirming a little again.
“What do you do for a living?”
“Right now, nothing.”
“And before you moved here?”
“I lived with my mother and aunt for a while in Pensacola. It was like going back in time staying with them. My aunt had lived with my grandmother until she died, and when my father died, they moved in together. My aunt didn’t want to be at the cottage by herself.”
He felt she was avoiding the question and he understood. They didn’t know each other. But he was drawn to her, like he was drawn to wounded animals. That made him sad.
“I remember when your grandfather died. Then your grandmother passed. Your aunt moved away, and the cottage became their vacation spot. The family visits grew less and less.”
“Now that I’m here and know she had so many admirers, I wonder why she moved away,” Maggie said. “She said it was too isolated, but they’ve isolated themselves in Pensacola, so what’s the difference?”
“Frankly, this is not a place for women. Well, obviously that’s a stereotype, so let me reword. It’s not a place for women who are timid. Living alone out here takes skill. Most of these old places don’t even have electricity or plumbing.
“From what I hear, you followed old Floyd’s crappy outboard motor instructions and started your boat, got it into town, and then found your way home again. That’s amazing because most men can’t even read his writing. So I’d say you’ll be fine.”
“So far, so good,” she said, trying not to bask in his praise. “I’ve had to prime the well pump, too. Hopefully, nothing will go wrong with the septic because that’s where I draw the line. This cottage is actually pretty spiffy in comparison to some of the others I remember seeing.”
“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” he said, laughing. “Before I forget, I brought you some goodies for your puppy.”
Pointing to the truck, he got up from the chair and stretched a little bit, giving Maggie a glimpse of about an inch of smooth, tanned flesh. “It’s the crate.”
“Oh, let me help you,” she said, popping up.
The last thing she needed was a distraction. He was distracting her and she was getting angry with herself for succumbing.Pull it together.
In spite of the attraction, while they talked, the chemistry she’d initially felt had seemed to diminish, and she was happy about that. It was probably a wall she’d erected after, well, what happened to her had happened, and she didn’t want to succumb to a handsome vet who lived a short horseback ride away.
Maybe it was good that they were holding back, if that was what it was, this lack of electrical current moving between them. It would give them a chance to really get to know one another before anything untoward took place. Like sex.
She tried not to look at his body, his muscular arms, those thighs that rode a horse; she bit her lip to keep from grinning.
Or maybe he wasn’t attracted to her. Although he’d come back, hadn’t he? While they assembled the doggie crate in the living room, she felt the hair on her arms rise if she got too close to him, so she focused on the crate, hoping Justin couldn’t smell her when she started to sweat. The puppy was immediately interested when they placed her blanket inside.
“Mission accomplished. Five more puppies to go.”
“Do you have any interested parties?” she asked, taking a step away from him.
“Not yet. I sort of bushwhacked you,” he said, moving closer.
“Nah, I don’t look at it like that. I walked into the trap willingly.”
They laughed and made small talk, and he must have gotten the hint. She noticed he was moving toward his truck. So that was it. She wouldn’t ask him to stay.
“Thank you for the wine,” she said. “It was delicious.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll get more the next time I go to New Orleans.” He paused for a minute. “Can I have your number?”
