This Perfect Stranger. Barbara Ankrum
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him. “All finished?”
He cleared his throat. “Just about.” She smiled at him and he felt something stutter inside him. “Smells good.”
“It’s almost ready. I thought…maybe…you might like a hot shower before dinner.”
A hot shower? Cain blinked. He hadn’t even dreamed of that small luxury.
“Down the hall, second door on your right. Towels are in the cupboard. And a fresh razor if you want one.”
Cain swallowed hard and nodded. “That’s…that’s kind of you. I’ll just,” he said, backing out of the kitchen, “get something clean out of my gear.”
Maggie smiled and turned back to the cupboard, fishing out a pair of water goblets for the table.
Cain headed for his bike, praying that he had something clean to replace the clothes he had on his back.
When they’d finished eating the stew and biscuits Maggie had made for supper, she poured Cain a cup of coffee and they walked out onto the porch together. Evening had brought out the blanket of stars overhead and the chill in the air required Maggie to throw on a soft jacket over her sweater. She’d gotten used to being alone. It felt strange to have company, Maggie thought. Their meal had been awkward and full of long silences, and now he stood, staring out over the mountains, his look, a thousand miles away.
“Penny for your thoughts,” she said.
He looked up, then took a sip from his coffee. “They might be worth almost that.”
“The mountains are beautiful, aren’t they?” she said, taking a sip of her mug.
His gaze scanned the silvery trace of the mountaintops. “Yes.”
“Even in moonlight,” she said. “They never cease to steal my breath.”
“How long you been here?” he asked.
“Six years. Not long enough,” she replied. “Never long enough.”
“It’s an easy thing to fall in love with the land.”
Pulling her gaze from the darkness beyond, she swivelled a look at him. “Have you? I mean, ever fallen in love with a piece of land?”
He took a sip of coffee. “Ancient history.”
Maggie nodded. “I can’t imagine living anywhere else now. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it.”
He filled his lungs with the scent of the snow off the mountaintops and the burgeoning green covering the hills. “It’s worth fighting for.”
She held her mug up to his for a toast to that sentiment. He smiled and returned the favor.
“To the good fight,” she said, and slugged a drink of the bittersweet coffee. He did the same and she had trouble taking her eyes off the way his muscular throat moved as he swallowed. The sight made her skin go suddenly tight.
Jigger nudged between them and Cain dropped his hand on the dog’s furry head for a scratch. The dog’s whole body quivered with pleasure.
“Can I ask you something?” he said as the silence stretched between them.
“Shoot.”
“Who was that guy in the coffee shop this morning?”
She tightened her hand around her cup. She knew instantly who he meant. “Guy?”
“Tall. Blowhard. Bent on ruining your day?”
Maggie smiled in spite of herself. “Oh, that guy.” She didn’t want to talk about Laird. “He was nobody. Just a rancher.”
“Not according to him.”
“True,” she agreed. “He’s under the misguided impression that he owns this valley.”
“Does he?”
“Not everything.” Maggie smoothed her right palm across the wood railing and a splinter slid neatly under her skin with a vicious prick. “Ow! Darn it!”
“Lemme see,” he said, grabbing her palm and inspecting it in the moonlight.
She tried to pull away, but his strong hand held hers firmly. “It’s nothing,” she complained, ignoring the sting. “Just a splinter.” But it felt like a ponderosa pine trunk had found its way under her skin.
“Hold still.” He bent over her hand, and turned it toward the kitchen light spilling through the open door. She didn’t mean to inhale the clean, soapy scent of him, or stare at the worn seams on his dark leather bomber jacket where his shoulders had strained it. And she couldn’t help herself from taking in the deep, dark brown of his hair or the way it curled over the edge of his shirt collar.
Lord, Maggie thought, giving herself a mental shake. You’ve been alone way too long.
It took less than ten seconds for him to get a grip on the splinter and pull it out. He lifted a smile up at her triumphantly, only then seeming to realize how close he was to her. His smile faded as he dropped her hand and stepped back. “Better put something on that.”
She rubbed at the spot gingerly with her thumb. “Thanks. I will.”
His large hand seemed to dwarf the railing as he brushed at the loose paint and splintery wood on the rail. “This could use some sandpaper and a fresh coat of paint.”
“Along with nearly every other surface on my property,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll get right on that. In my spare time.”
“Sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“Don’t apologize. I’ve gotten way behind on things here. But painting railings isn’t exactly a priority when I’m barely managing to pay my bills. That’s why I was in town today,” she said with a sigh of resignation. “Getting turned down for a loan.”
He shook his head, “I always did have good timing.”
“Need I remind you that I probably wouldn’t be standing here now if you hadn’t ridden up on your bike when you did?”
He turned to look out over her darkened pastures again. “That was just lucky.”
“I used to believe in luck,” she said. “But now I don’t think there are any coincidences.”
“You mean you think I was supposed to ride up and drag you out from under that horse of yours?”
She laughed. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe you just needed a meal so you could get on to the next thing. Maybe that’s all this is.”
“Pretty deep for a horse rancher,” he said with a smile.
She returned it. “That’s what I get for spending too much time with the animal kingdom. I get philosophical.”
“And lonely?”
She smoothed her hand over her palm. “Sometimes. Mostly I’m too tired to be lonely.”
“That’s my cue,” he said. “I’d better turn in, too.”
For reasons she couldn’t explain, she wasn’t ready to let Cain go yet, but could think of nothing to stop him. “There’s fresh bedding in the trunk beside the cot. Blankets and… It get’s a little cold still at night, even for June.”
He reached a hand out to her and she took it. His fingers curled around her palm with gentle firmness. “Make sure you take care of that hand. I’ll be out of your hair first light. Thanks for everything.” He let her go and smiled. “Goodbye, Mrs. Cortland.”
She watched him head toward the barn. Before he could disappear into the shadows, she said, “It’s Maggie.”
He turned back to her.
“My name,” she explained. “And you don’t have to