One Tiny Miracle. Jennifer Greene
on this outing with Quint, what would Abe think? What would her own family think?
You’re a grown woman, Maura. This is nobody’s business but yours. And it’s high time you started acting like a woman instead of a fraidy cat.
Bolstered by that idea, she blurted, “Sure. I can be there by noon. What do I need to bring?”
“Nothing, except yourself. Just be sure to wear heavy jeans and cowboy boots. Just in case you get too close to a jumping cactus.”
She assured him that she’d be there at twelve and wearing appropriate riding gear, then they exchanged goodbyes. As Maura slipped the receiver back on its hook, she stared dazedly around the small kitchen, while a part of her wanted to dance and shout, laugh and run about the room like a wild thing that had just been let loose from a cage.
But she stopped herself short of expressing such exuberance. This wasn’t the first date she’d been asked on since her divorce with Gilbert, she grimly reminded herself. One of the main reasons she was here on Apache Wells was because Dr. Weston had made a daily habit of asking her to go out with him. So why had she continually turned him down and jumped at the first chance she’d gotten to be with Quint?
Because when Dr. Weston had looked at her, talked to her, the only thing Maura had felt was annoyance. There’d been no sudden pounding of her heart or normally even breaths dissolving into soft little gasps. No heat firing her blood, urging her to touch, to move closer and even closer still.
Had she gone crazy? She’d run from Dr. Weston as though he was the devil incarnate and straight to Quint Cantrell. A man that made the good doctor seem as hazardous as downing a bowl of vanilla pudding.
The next morning, Quint slapped pieces of meat between slices of white bread sopped with mayonnaise, then covered them in plastic wrap and shoved them in a worn saddlebag. For dessert, he smeared peanut butter and jelly on wheat bread, wrapped the lot up and added them to the meat sandwiches. In the opposite saddlebag, he packed cans of beer and soda, then felt enormously proud of himself for remembering to add napkins.
He supposed he should have driven into town and purchased something special for the picnic meal. Like fried chicken and chocolate cake. But he was miles from town. And anyway, he didn’t want to buy Maura’s friendship. He wanted her to like him just for himself. Not because he was rich. Or young. Or good-looking. The last of which he’d never thought of himself, until she’d said such a thing to him the other night.
The other night.
Even now, days later, he could easily recall the way she’d felt wrapped in his arms, the way her lips had tasted against his. For a moment he closed his eyes as images and sensations assaulted his senses, filled him with hunger.
Maybe spending more time with Maura was asking for trouble. For the past four days, he’d been asking himself what he was doing by allowing himself to get so caught up in the woman. He’d not set out to get this involved. He’d only meant to kiss her, to prove to himself that she wasn’t some sort of walking goddess.
But that kiss had done something to him and by the time it had ended he’d felt as though he’d been spun around in a violent whirlwind, then dropped into another world. Everything around him had suddenly seemed different, felt different.
Later, he’d realized he had to find out why she’d affected him so. Why one little red-haired nurse had put a spark in him like no woman he’d ever met.
With the saddlebags packed, Quint carried them down to the barn, where he began saddling two of his most dependable horses. He was tightening the back cinch on the last mount when a male voice sounded behind him.
“Hey, what’s with the horses? You’re not going to ride fence today, are you?”
Groaning inwardly, Quint turned around to see Jake standing a few feet behind him. He wished the other man hadn’t shown up right now. Maura would be here soon and he’d just as soon not discuss his personal life with his old friend.
“No. I have something else planned,” he told the other man.
“Oh. Well, I came by to see if you’d like to drive over to Bonito Lake and do a little trout fishing.”
Resting his arm on the mare’s rump, Quint stared at the other man. “Fishing? Since when have you taken up a rod?”
Shrugging, Jake turned his gaze toward the open doorway of the barn. “I used to like it. When I was young and Dad was still around.”
“You’ve never told me that.”
“No.”
“So what made you want to go fishing today?” Quint persisted.
“Mom has been wanting some fresh trout. And she hasn’t been feeling well.” With a self-deprecating grin, he glanced at Quint. “I don’t always just think of myself.”
Quint figured most people thought of Jake as a rounder, a guy who was only out to have fun, but he knew there was another side to his old friend, one that he kept fairly hidden.
Quint smoothed his hand over the mare’s rump. “Well, I would have liked to go with you,” he said. “But I’m going on a picnic.”
Jake chuckled. “Picnic, hell.”
“Okay, let me rephrase this so you’ll understand. I’m going riding and taking food with me.”
“Man, you’d better get that redheaded nurse back over here to check your temperature. ‘Cause you’re definitely sick.”
Turning back to the mare’s side, Quint began to unnecessarily adjust the latigo. “You don’t need to worry about my health, Jake. The redheaded nurse is going with me.”
Quint could hear the other man’s footsteps drawing closer.
“Maura Donovan? You’re going riding with her?”
“That’s right.”
There was a very long pause and then Jake said, “A man only takes a woman he really likes riding.”
Quint supposed Jake was right. The few women he’d tried to get interested in since Holly, he’d taken on traditional dates like dinner and a movie. During those outings, he been bored and wondering why he’d bothered in the first place.
“If you’re asking if I like Maura, I do.”
“Hmm. You gettin’ serious about her?”
Faint unease stabbed Quint as he combed his fingers through the mare’s black mane. “Me? Get serious about a woman? You know me better than that, ol’ buddy.”
“Yeah. How could I forget that you’re a warped man? You don’t have a decent thing to offer a woman.”
Turning from the horse, Quint glared at the other man. “Don’t you think you’d better head on to the lake? You can’t catch a fish in the middle of the day.”
Jake chuckled. “Aren’t you lucky that term doesn’t apply to a woman?”
Before Quint could make a retort, the other man turned and headed toward the open doorway.
“See you in the morning,” he called out.
As Jake disappeared from view, Quint wondered if catching Maura was what he really wanted. If he did catch her, what would he do, besides the obvious? He didn’t want a wife. At least, he didn’t think he did. To be a good husband, a man had to invest a hell of a lot of himself.
At one time, when he’d been engaged to Holly, he’d thought that way of life was the way he wanted to go. His father, Lewis, had been a great husband and father. He’d been a happy man and he’d loved his wife until the last second of his life. Quint had wanted to follow his example. He’d wanted that same deep connection with a woman that his father had shared with his mother. But Quint had failed at a real love. Why the heck would he want to risk going through all