Conner, with Bucket at his heels, was coming out of the barn, where they’d just put the horses away. When he saw the dishes in Travis’s hands, he grinned. “So you’re finally going to take those back. I’ve been waiting for that.”
“I’m just returning them; that’s all. It’s not like I
’m going to stay and visit.”
“Sure,” Conner teased. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of Bucket. And if you’re not back by bedtime, I won’t call nine one one.”
Travis climbed into his truck without answering. He knew Conner was only having fun. But sometimes his jokes could be annoying as hell. Maybe because, deep down, Travis wished they had some basis in truth. Maggie had gotten to him as few women ever had. But he wasn’t into rejection, thank you. He would leave the dishes at her house, wish the lady a good night, and head for home.
The night was getting darker, the wind stronger. Clouds raced across the face of the moon. Travis kept both hands on the wheel. He had felt nothing at the house, but now, as he drove, a strange premonition crept over him—a sense that something unforeseen was about to happen.
Chapter 9
By the time Travis pulled up in front of Maggie’s house, a fine sleet was peppering the windshield of the truck. Shadowed by the deep porch, the front window glowed with lamplight.
Picking up the dishes, he climbed out of the cab and strode up the front walk. The wind tore at his jacket as he mounted the steps. Maggie wouldn’t be expecting visitors on a night like this. He didn’t want to startle her or make her uncomfortable in anyway. But his pulse quickened at the prospect of seeing her again.
Don’t be an idiot, he told himself as he pressed a finger to her doorbell. Just give her the damned dishes and leave.
He heard a stirring from the other side of the door and the metallic snik of the dead bolt sliding back. The door opened a few inches, then wider as she recognized him.
“Come in, Travis.” She was dressed in black leggings and a baggy gray sweatshirt that had slipped off one shoulder, showing a lacy pink bra strap. “Here, let me take those.” She reached for the dishes in his hands. “I hope you didn’t drive all the way here in this weather just to return them.”
“No,” Travis lied. “I just thought I’d drop them off on my way home. Sorry to be so long in getting them back to you.”
“No problem. If I’d needed them, I’d have taken them with me when I left your place. Take off your coat while I put these things away. There’s a coatrack behind the door.” Barefoot, she pattered into the kitchen. Travis hesitated, then took off his coat. He hadn’t meant to stay. But she’d clearly invited him. And her living room was so cozy and inviting that he couldn’t make himself leave.
An overstuffed sofa faced the fireplace, where a cheery blaze crackled on the brick hearth. There were soft cushions, an abundance of green plants, and a wall of shelves filled with well-worn books. The aroma of freshly baked cookies that wafted from the kitchen made his mouth water.
Maggie reappeared with a tray of cookies and milk. “You’re in luck,” she said. “I had to bake chocolate chip cookies for a work party tomorrow. There are plenty left over, and they’re still warm.”
“I can’t stay long,” he said. “I need to get home before the weather gets worse.”
“I won’t keep you,” she said. “But I can’t send you away hungry when we’ve got warm cookies.” She put the tray on the coffee table and moved the cushions to clear a space for him. “Have a seat,” she said. “And help yourself.”
Travis sat and took one cookie, then a second. The cookies and cold milk were delicious, but it was Maggie who stunned him. Warm and rumpled, she looked so tantalizing that it was all he could do to keep his hands off her. He swore silently. This wasn’t why he’d come. And he’d be damned if he was going to let her do that maddening hot and cold number on him again.
But, so help him, there were worse things to do on a blustery night than sit in front of a warm fire, sharing cookies and milk with a gorgeous, sexy woman.
* * *
Maggie hadn’t expected anybody to show up on her door-step tonight, especially Travis. But now that he was here, she realized how much she’d wanted to see him again.
Her eager gaze took him in—the way his damp hair, in need of a trim, curled over his forehead, the lean, chiseled face and earnest gray eyes. The man was heartbreak on a bun. But she’d learned that being alone and thinking about him all the time was no picnic either. She’d memorized the moment when he’d kissed her, his strong arms crushing her close, his lips like cool velvet on her mouth, the taste of him, the feel of him . . .
Had he come here for a reason, or was he just, as he’d said, stopping by to return her dishes?
“How’s your search for Santa coming along?” he asked, as if just making conversation.
“Are you about to volunteer?” she asked.
“Not on your life. I was just wondering, that’s all.”
“Too bad.” Maggie broke a cookie and dipped half in her milk. “I would have taken you up on it. The Santa suit was so old that it fell apart at the dry cleaner’s, so we’ll have to rent a new one. But so far there’s nobody to fill it.”
And that was literally true. Carrie Mae, who worked in the county clerk’s office, had slipped her the news that Travis and Conner had applied for a license to sell Christmas trees. Once Hank found out that they were going into competition with him, there was no way he would play Santa—especially since his competitors owned the sleigh and horses.
For Maggie, the situation was turning into one massive headache.