Maggie Moves On(44)
16
Saturday mornings were when Bitterroot’s teenage part-timers were dispatched in two pickups with trailers to do the mowing and trimming jobs around Kinship. Silas had a few commercial properties as clients, but most of the business came from families too busy with spring sports to keep up with the lawn, or senior citizens, who got the rock-bottom discounted rate.
The kids fought over the old folks because the snacks were great.
Silas liked to do a few drive-bys every weekend to make sure everyone was on task and not fucking around with string trimmers and leaf blowers like he and Michael had when they were put in charge of the family lawns. He still had a scar on his shin from the cord of a Weed Eater. Teenagers today seemed to be at least a little more responsible when money and snacks were on the line.
There was no real reason for him to swing by the Campbell Place. And if he got his drive-bys out of the way and spent an hour or two on paperwork, he could take the paddleboard or the kayak out for the afternoon.
If he stopped in to see Maggie, well, that would throw a wrench in his whole day. Plus, he’d probably end up kissing her again. And he wasn’t sure how she’d feel about that. Seeing as how she hadn’t responded to his texts last night. Maybe that had given him a mild case of nerves.
But if he did drop by, maybe he could test the waters, so to speak, under the guise of preparing for the week ahead. It would just take a minute or so.
“Wanna go see the pretty lady?” he asked his dog. Kevin cocked his head from his copilot position in the passenger seat.
“All right, then. Let’s go.” Silas steered the truck out of town and up into the hills. It was less than a ten-minute drive, during which he called his sister Nirina and got the 411 on her last doctor appointment. Five months along, and mama and baby were doing just fine.
“When are you bringing Campbell Place Girl into the shop? We need a heads-up so we can dazzle her with our wares,” Nirina chirped in his ear after she’d filled him in on all things baby.
“Listen, I just talked her into kissing me, and it took me three dates. Meeting the family’s gonna take at least seven.”
“Damn, Sy. You’re losing your touch in your old age.” At twenty-six, Nirina was the baby of the family. To her, anyone over thirty was old.
He slowed to make the turn onto Maggie’s lane and noticed the deep ruts in the dirt that turned to black tire tracks on the asphalt. “Hey, I gotta go, Niri. Call you back.”
Kevin, picking up on his concern, put his front paws on the dashboard and let out a low growl.
The ruts fishtailed back and forth on the narrow lane the whole length of the driveway. There was a gouge taken out of one of the tree trunks. He bet the car looked worse. Grimly, Silas tightened his grip on the wheel.
He was relieved to see Jim’s van parked out front. A power washer hooked to a hose sat at the bottom of the porch steps. The front door behind the screen was open, and there was music, Whitesnake, coming from somewhere inside.
Silas pulled in behind the contractor’s van and shoved the truck into park.
“Maggie!” It was not a friendly call. It was a summons.
He was halfway up the porch steps when she limped through the screen door.
“Oh, hey,” she said, giving him a smile that pissed him off.
“Oh, hey? What in the hell happened?” he demanded, closing the distance and grabbing her by the shoulders.
She looked puzzled. “I just took a break from power washing—”
“Your driveway, Mags. It looks like someone turned it into a slalom. And why are you limping?”
“I stubbed my toe. Some kids showed up last night, not realizing the place was occupied, and I tiptoed around the side to give them a scare. Ended up tiptoeing right into a rock.”
“You best back that story up and start from the beginning.”
When she merely looked up at him, annoyed, he bared his teeth. “Now, Nichols.”
He heard Jim hoot from somewhere inside, “She got him good and riled!”
“Stay out of this, Coach,” Silas snapped.
“Leave Jim alone,” Maggie shot back, daggers in her eyes. “Who do you think you are, showing up here and demanding to know shit that’s none of your business?”
He leaned in dangerously close. “You’re my business, Maggie. Whether you like it or not. Accept it or not. That kiss last night makes you my business.”
“Please,” she scoffed. “You don’t get to go all Idaho cowboy just because we locked lips.”
“Darlin’, welcome to the Wild West.”
“Oh, I want to slap the crap out of you right now,” she hissed.
“I can’t decide if I want to shake some sense into you or kiss the hell out of you.”
“Maggie? I’m running into town. You want some ice for your foot?” asked Jim’s guy, Rudy, a recent tech school graduate with a baby on the way.
“No, thanks, Rudy,” she said without breaking eye contact with Silas.
“Really should get that looked at.” Jim added his two cents, appearing behind Rudy. “Could be broken.”
Maggie rolled her eyes and blew out a breath. “It’s a toe, gentlemen. Not a femur. Can we all get back to work now?”
“Get her some ice,” Silas told Rudy. “There’s a ten spot in my cup holder.”