Despite himself, he smiled. “It’s a deal.”
While the coffee was brewing, Maggie stuck the pie in the oven for a few minutes to warm it up.
“So,” Michael asked, trying hard not to stare at her backside too much as she bent over, “you get a lot of apples?”
“Apples, peaches, cherries, pears, apricots. Bushels and bushels of them.”
“What do you do with them all?”
“Most of them go to waste, truthfully. I preserve what I can, dehydrate a bunch, make lots of jams and whatnot, but I’d venture I’ve got the fattest deer this side of the Appalachians.”
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Wanna see?”
Maggie asked him to precede her, keeping one hand on his shoulder as they made their way down the steep, narrow stairway to the cellar. An old bar had been riveted against the stone foundation wall, but there was no railing to grasp on the other side. When they reached the bottom, Michael looked in wonder at the massive ancient timbers that shored up the house, the dirt floor, the walls of massive rough-hewn granite stone. Along with the smell of earth, he was hit with an aroma of spices.
He blinked once, then twice. It looked like an old fashioned farmer’s market. From the timbers hung hand-knotted baskets holding onions, garlic, potatoes, yams. Huge bunches of dried herbs hung as well, neatly tagged with little cards hanging from twine – rosemary, basil, parsley, oregano, not to mention several varieties of mints and herbs Michael knew had been used to brew homeopathic teas.
But none of that compared to the walls of shelving containing hundreds of jars – canned peaches, pears, apples, applesauce, jams, butters, tomatoes, sauces, pickles, carrots, corn...
“You did all this?” he asked.
“Uh-huh,” she said modestly. “I have a big garden.”
“I guess.” Well, he’d been right about one thing. The woman obviously couldn’t sit still for a moment.
Chapter Ten
Though he wouldn’t have believed he was capable of swallowing another bite, Michael nearly polished off a large piece of Maggie’s homemade apple pie while she sipped at the coffee.
“Maggie, I don’t know what to say,” he said finally, wiping his mouth. “I can’t remember when I’ve had such a delicious meal.”
Maggie’s eyes shone. “Thanks. It’s nice to have someone to cook for for a change.” George chose that moment to let out a soulful woof, prompting Michael to give him the last bite of the pie. “Excluding you, of course, George,” she added lightly.
“One thing is certain,” Michael said. “My brothers are never coming here. You’ll never get them to leave.”
Maggie laughed. “An entire kitchen filled with Callaghans. Now that’s an image.” She sipped at her coffee. “I get the sense that you are all close.”
“Very,” Michael agreed. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
“No,” she said softly. “Just me.”
There was a hint of sadness to her voice, and he sensed there was a story there, but she didn’t elaborate. Hopefully, Maggie would eventually feel comfortable enough to share some of those personal thoughts with him.
Maggie put her hand up to her mouth, stifling a yawn.
“You’re tired,” he said.
“Just a little,” she replied with a slightly embarrassed smile. Her lashes fluttered, her eyes sparkled. Once again, he felt that strange energy coursing through his chest.
“Maybe I should be going, let you get some rest.”
The change was instantaneous. Her eyes widened and she sat up suddenly, eliciting a protest from George when she inadvertently poked him with her toes. “You want to leave? In the middle of a blizzard?”
Hell, no he didn’t. But not wanting to leave had very little to do with the weather and everything to do with the woman currently looking at him with those big, pretty green eyes. The one who had fed him homemade stew and bread and eased a loneliness inside him he didn’t even know he had. The one who, only moments before, had eyes filled with such longing that his heart ached. As much as he wanted to stay, he had to be very careful here. He already cared for Maggie, and didn’t want to hurt her in any way.
He hesitated, then decided to be honest with her. “I really enjoy being with you, Maggie,” he said truthfully. “I don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize seeing you again. That includes overstaying my welcome.”
Her lips parted slightly, as if caught off-guard by his words. “You had no problem staying last night.”
“You were semi-conscious. I didn’t think leaving you alone was a viable option.” Not that I wanted to, he added silently.