Twice Kissed - Lisa Jackson [53]
But she knew in her heart that it wasn’t over. Not yet. As much as she hated to think it, she was certain the worst was yet to come.
For the next few days Maggie spent as little time as possible at the house, with its invisible waves of tension. She worked bussing tables at Roberto’s, a local Italian restaurant, four nights a week, part of her father’s plan to make his kids learn the “value of a dollar.” Mitch earned his keep as a lifeguard at the city’s one swimming pool, and, as the summer progressed, had gotten more tan by the day. Mary Theresa spent most of her time at the local theater, an old brick elementary school that had been converted into a community center and housed Rio Verde’s only performing-arts center.
Mitch had his own car, the girls shared with their mother, and whenever she could get away, Maggie found a ride out to the stable to ride Ink Spot and learn a little more about Enrique’s replacement. Like it or not, Thane Walker intrigued her.
He seemed a regular jack-of-all-trades and did everything from giving lessons to novice riders to helping shoe the horses when the farrier visited. He groomed the stock, shored up the sagging overhangs of the stable, straightened the tack room, and mended the fences. She’d heard from Flora that he had grown up in Wyoming on a cattle ranch, spent a few years riding bucking broncos and Brahman bulls in rodeo competitions, and had even done some stunt work for a movie production company.
“Yep. Thane’s been a godsend,” Flora had confided to Maggie as she’d sprinkled feed pellets into the rabbit hutches, then added a mixture of carrots, lettuce, and greens that looked suspiciously like the beginnings of the salads Roberto’s sold for over three dollars a plate. “I don’t even miss Enrique, and he was with me for six years.” Flora knocked the dust from the bottom of the pellet can and squinted into the lowering sun to the barn where Thane, without his shirt, was fixing the spigot on the water trough. His tanned muscles gleamed, flexing in the lowering sun as he strained with the wrench. His upper teeth bit into his lower lip as he yanked on the tool.
Maggie’s gaze was fastened to his bronzed chest, bare save for a few brown hairs that sprang between his flat nipples. Sweat ran down from his neck and hairline, and his faded, dusty jeans, with only a battered leather belt keeping them on his hips, slid low enough to display a slice of white skin just above his buttocks when he leaned too far forward.
“Yeah,” Flora said, her voice a little huskier than it had been as he straightened and her eyes followed the curve of his spine. “I’m lucky that Thane showed up when he did.” She thought for a moment, her lips pursing a bit. “You know, he’s the first man I ever hired without bothering with references. Probably because I was desperate, and he knocked on my door.” She scratched her head at her own folly. “Don’t know anything about him, but what he told me.” With a lift of her shoulder, she added, “Good thing he wasn’t wanted by the law or something.”
Flora went back to feeding the animals as Maggie headed toward the stable. Feeling the weight of Thane’s gaze upon her as she passed, she managed to lift her hand in a small wave while hoping against hope that the heat she felt climb up the back of her neck was hidden by her ponytail as it swung behind her. No reason for him to know that her thoughts were starting to be crowded with him, that each night after swimming her laps before bed, his face was her last vision before dropping off to sleep.
It was crazy, really. Aside from that first day, she’d only had a few conversations with him—short and one-sided, usually about Ink Spot. He teased her mercilessly, wouldn’t give up calling her “Joan” whenever she got a little high-handed, and was a general pain in the backside. Nonetheless, she thought about him constantly. Way more than she should have. At night when she lay in her bed, looking through