AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He was clad in a pair of snug dark wranglers, a matching Stetson, and a black t-shirt that hugged his broad shoulders and chest, showing his bulging biceps. He looked worlds away from the man in the suit.
He lifted his head, and his face twisted in recognition. A mix of emotions coursed through me as our gazes met, and I felt the same emotions inside me—shock, horror maybe, curiosity, and a trailing after that…a bit of heat.
My body reacted, and the rush of emotions made me hot and uneasy.
I cleared my throat as another long look passed between us, and I tried to brush the feelings inside me away. It was unbelievable to have such an intense physical and emotional reaction to him after I had not seen John—or expected to see him—again.
“Mister…Maxwell,” I said, shoving my memories back and taking on my professional manners. “Thank you for coming in.”
I knew one thing. I was an idiot, an unprepared idiot. When I’d moved to this small town—well, in people, not cattle—I’d heard rumors about our local celebrity, Mr. John Maxwell.
He’s richer than God.
He’s a hunk.
He’s a widower who might be looking again.
I’d heard all the rumors—but what I should have done was google him.
“It's…you,” he said without heat or derisiveness. “I can't believe it's you.”
I had no answer. I knew I was happy Samantha was not there. From the few times I’d spoken with the girl, I realized she was intuitive and picked up on things. Thank God she wasn’t there to experience this weird vibe her father and I had going on.
I gave him a tight smile even while my nipples instantly went hard and rubbed against the inside of my bra. Thank God I still have my flimsy cardigan on to hide the reaction.
“I thought you said you were going to San Antonio,” John mentioned.
“I didn’t think telling you the direct truth was wise,” I replied uncomfortably. “I didn’t feel it was necessary. We had not expected to see each other again, and I certainly didn’t want any complications.”
“Complications…” he said. “Did you follow me here, darlin’?”
I murmured under my breath and then reminded myself to pull it together. It was hard not to think about that night when his rumbly voice washed over me. How the hell was I supposed to handle this? My pulse thudded in my ears.
“What?No. I-I—” I tried again, focusing on being calm, relaxed, and collected instead of making an ass of myself in front of this man. “It might be best if we put that indiscretion behind us. We were in an airport coffee place, and—” I sighed, “It’s safe to say we never expected to see each other again, so…shall we start over?”
Something flashed over his face, but it vanished in the next second. “Sure. Pleased to meet you, Miss Everett.”
Relief flooded me. “Same to you, Mister Maxwell.”
“Now, what happened with Sam?” He leaned forward, pinning me with his intense gaze that still—and secretly—made me shiver.
“She fought with one of her best friends, a boy named Tyler,” I replied, flipping a file open. “He is a grade older than Samantha and seems to take more to boy friends than girls.”
“She does so at home,” he said. “Well, there are more cowboys than women folk on the ranch. It’s what she was born into, so I suppose it’s natural for her to have boys as friends. Plus, she’s a tomboy.”
“I see,” I replied. “But the fact that the two are friends perturbs me. Friends don’t suddenly fight like that. From what I understand, they were playing some game, trading friendly insults about the other family, and Tyler must have said something to set Samantha off, and she hit him.”
Mr. Maxwell’s eyes closed tightly, and I could see strain turn his face rigid—right before he slumped over, caged his face with his hands, and rubbed it harshly. “Is this…this the first interaction she’s had like this? I mean, had there been other kids?”
“Mr. Maxwell—”
“John, please,” he grunted.
“John then,” I added, resting my forearms on my desk and lacing my fingers. “No, from my records, she has not fought anyone else. But if I may ask, has Sam been acting up at home?”
“Yes…” he peeled his hands from his face. “She’s been acting up, going off on her own on her horse, locked up in her room at times, outbursts too. She’s been sullen, reticent, with a poker face that makes her look like a wall. I think…I think I’m to blame. See, I’m hardly home, and with her mom gone…it’s been a lot.”
There were so many things to explain pre-teen rebellion. While he had a point, he had jumped over so many other legitimate reasons that I knew it would be hard to talk him off this ledge.
