Maggie Moves On(32)

“That’s another thing. How is anyone supposed to trust anyone else if they don’t actually know them? If they just keep on surprising you every time you manage to get comfortable?”

They were digging down to the root issue, and Silas was more than happy to get a little dirty in the process.

“You don’t have to know every single thing about a person to know you can trust them,” he countered.

When his thumbs moved between her shoulder blades, she let out a little moan that had his blood stirring.

“But they can still let you down. They trick you into relying on them, and then just when you get used to the way things are, they change the rules.”

“That’s people for you,” he said. “How long were you and Dean married?”

He felt her tense again before she turned to face him. Genuine surprise was written all over her pretty, sad face. “How the hell did you know that?”

He gave her a shrug, palms up. “I’m a pretty observant, intelligent, good-looking guy. Y’all have a kind of intimacy. Like a language that only you two speak. From the outside, it looks like it runs deeper than just ‘friends from college.’”

She watched him. “And you’re asking me about Dean because you know he’s the one I’m pissed at,” she surmised.

“You’re not mad at Dean,” he countered, stepping up onto a sizable boulder that had tried to take a chunk out of the brush mower. He shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun and drank in the view.

“Oh goodie. We’ve arrived at the part where you tell me not only what the problem is, but you flex your muscles and offer to fix it for me.”

“You’re not mad at me either,” he insisted. Leaning down and taking her hand, he tugged her up on the boulder next to him. “You’re good and pissed at yourself for getting comfortable, letting yourself lean on someone. So you’re mad as hell that you put yourself into a position where you can get hurt, or disappointed, or let down. And judging by that mangled wall in the kitchen, this is a ‘been there, done that, got a souvenir shot glass’ kind of situation.”

Her chin jutted out. “That’s ridiculous,” she snapped. “That’s beyond ridiculous. It’s bullshit. And you know what?”

He looked down at her, trying not to appear too entertained. His mom had always told them, “You can learn a lot more about a person on a bad day than you can on a good day.”

“Dammit. You’re right,” she admitted, her breath coming out in a whoosh.

“Darlin’, I’m Mr. Wright.”

Her lips quirked. “You’re saying your last name, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

She shook her head. “Ugh. Does that line actually work?”

“We’re about to find out. Now, if you can get showered and changed in the next hour, we can catch happy hour at Decked Out before all the good tables are taken.”

She blinked up at him. “Huh?”

He stepped down, and before she could protest, he picked her up and set her on the ground.

“I’m taking you out for dinner and drinks,” he explained, amused.

“Why?”

Well, it wasn’t a no.

“Because if you don’t talk it out, you’ll just end up grabbing that sledgehammer again. And there’s only so many peanut butter and Marshmallow Fluff sandwiches a person’s allowed to eat before it’s against the law in this state.”

“Idaho has weird laws,” Maggie complained. “But I would hate to break one so early on in my stay.”

He grinned. “You don’t by chance know what chapter sixty-six, section three of Title eighteen says, do you?”

She crossed her arms and looked at him suspiciously. “No. Should I?”

“I wouldn’t worry your pretty little head about it, especially if breaking the law would keep you from enjoying a healthy physical relationship with, say, a handsome, sensitive, tall landscaper.”

She shook her head, and he saw another hint of grudging smile. “I thought the full-court press flirting would slow down since you caught me mid–temper tantrum.”

“Are you kidding? I think I’m more head over heels now,” he told her.

“You’re so weird, Wright.”

“I am a student of human interactions. And I can tell you that I witnessed ‘balls-still-attached, blissfully unaware of Mad Maggie’ Dean get in his car and drive off today, which means that, as mad or hurt or pissed off as you were, you didn’t take it out on him.”

“I took it out on a wall. Instead of talking it out or burying it down deep like a normal adult,” she argued.

And that was the other part of it, he realized. She was mad and disappointed in herself for being mad. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and give her something else to think about. But that wasn’t what she needed.

“What?” she asked, looking at him.

“Just thinkin’ how cinematic it would be if I kissed you right here. Right out of a damn movie.”

“Yeah, until we lose our balance and fall…” She peered down, gauging the drop. “A hundred feet or so.”

“But what a way to go. Come on, slugger,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders and guiding her onto the path. “I’m going to introduce you to the best finger steaks you’ve ever had.”