Checking on why she’d seen Phoebe driving in this direction with Noah Kendrick in the front seat of her car.
Maggie shut the van door. She just needed to stay busy, give herself a chance to think.
Phoebe, Noah.
Brandon.
It was too much.
Brandon scooped up his sons, one in each arm as if they weighed nothing. They got mud on his cargo pants but he didn’t seem to notice as he set the boys on the grass in the front yard and turned to Noah. “These are my sons, Tyler and Aidan Sloan. Guys, this is Noah Kendrick.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Noah said as the boys greeted him politely, then promptly went back to their puddle-stomping. He glanced at Brandon, then Maggie. “I’ll be out back.”
Maggie almost stopped him so that she wouldn’t be alone with Brandon, but she kept quiet. She was being ridiculous. She’d known Brandon all her life. Even if he didn’t want to live in Knights Bridge, his family was here. Now his sons were here. Whatever her relationship with him had become, he was still a part of her life.
She held her canvas bag against her hip, remembered that it contained different oils she and Olivia wanted to try out in their soap-making. Olive, almond, soy, coconut. “Where’s your truck?” she asked Brandon.
“Up at Dylan’s.”
“I didn’t see it there.”
“It’s out back.”
“What did you do, park where I wouldn’t see it?”
“I didn’t want you to run away or throw a brick through the windshield.” When she glared at him, he held up a hand. “It was a joke, Maggie. If you have things you need to do here, I can take the boys up to Dylan’s and show them what’s going on. Demolition starts this week.”
“I’m not staying. I should get Aidan and Tyler home and into the tub.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re dirty, Brandon.”
“I mean why the rush?”
“Schedules. Routine. Summer’s winding down. School will be starting soon. Anyway, I don’t have time to explain their day-to-day lives to you.” She immediately regretted snapping at him. “I’m sorry. I’ll give them a few more minutes to get wet and muddy and then go.”
Brandon didn’t fire back, as he would have six months ago. “They can see Dylan’s place another time.”
“Another time? Aren’t you going back to Boston?”
“No. I’m working here, Maggie.”
She was so shocked she gasped. “With your family?”
He nodded without hesitation, without any indication he was embarrassed, bitter, settling, anything.
“But why?” she asked.
“It’s a job.” He spoke with a finality that shut down further questions.
Maggie took a breath. “Okay, then. Where are you staying? You’re not commuting from Boston—”
“I pitched a tent at Dylan’s.” He gave her that devil-may-care Sloan smile. “It’s rent-free. I promised the boys I’d take them camping. I was thinking we’d just camp out here.”
“They’d like that,” Maggie said, her throat tight with emotion.
He started for the kitchen door. “I’ll head upstairs. I need to take a shower. Helps with the camping out.”
“Helps with the smell, too.”
He grinned at her. “You never were one to beat around the bush.”
“You’re sweaty. It’s not…” Why had she brought up something as personal, as intimate, as that? “Olivia and I made a spearmint-olive oil soap. I think there’s some in the hall bathroom.”
“No goat’s milk?”
Maggie didn’t know if he was making fun of her and Olivia’s goat’s milk soaps or if he was genuinely curious. She decided to give him a straight answer. “It’s the one soap we’ve tried so far that doesn’t have goat’s milk. Spearmint works for guys as well as women. You know. Instead of a lilac scent or something.”
He scratched the side of his mouth and let his gaze linger on her. Maggie knew he was thinking about the two of them in the shower. She didn’t know what had gotten into her, bringing up soaps. She wanted to blame him, because it’d be just like him to lead her down a dead-end road and let her figure out how to get out of there on her own.
He swaggered inside. He knew what she was thinking. He always knew. That was half their problem. She wished sometimes she wasn’t so damn transparent.
She saw that the boys had settled into making mud pies and checking out worms. “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she told them. “I can see you from the window.”
It was as much a warning to stay out of trouble as reassurance that she was near. They weren’t toddlers anymore. She headed into the kitchen and set her bag on the island, then unloaded the oils. She might as well go ahead and leave them in Olivia’s pantry.