He didn’t answer her, but she could see the smirk flirting with his lips as he disappeared around the corner of the cottage. After tucking her phone and memo book back into her pockets, she followed him and wasn’t surprised at all to find him already in the driver’s seat.
“Where to now?” he asked once she was in and buckled up.
“Take a right and then a left when we hit the main road. The Johnsons think they’ve got some tree limbs about to come down and they want me to look at it. They don’t want to pay a tree service if they don’t have to.”
“I thought your clients didn’t mind throwing their money around.”
“If they have it. The Johnsons were one of my first clients. Their kids all moved away and they were moving into a smaller house. Mrs. Johnson didn’t want to leave her peonies behind, so I transplanted them for her. They’re far from rich.”
“We can take care of the tree limbs.” She gave him a doubtful look, but he was serious. “I grew up in a lodge in the middle of the woods. I’ve limbed a few trees in my time.”
They reached the main road and she pointed left as a reminder even as he turned his blinker on. “How come you came to New Hampshire when you left the army instead of going home?”
“Wanted to see Uncle Leo and Aunt Mary. Hang out with my cousins.”
After a few moments passed, she realized he wasn’t going to say anything else. And that made her think about how most of what she knew about him, she’d actually learned from Lisa before she’d even met him. “What was it like, growing up in a snowmobile lodge?”
“It was…okay. The Northern Star’s a big place and has a lot of land, so we had room to run. Our bedrooms were separate from the guest rooms, and we had our own family room and bathroom. But it’s weird having strangers in your house every weekend and I never got used to it.”
“So you don’t want to go back there, then?”
He turned his head to look at her, an unreadable expression on his face. “Not really, no.”
“Take your next left,” she said after a few miles of silence. “After Gram leaves, are you going to go back to the apartment over Jasper’s?”
He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but he was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Don’t know.”
“Okay.” She directed him through a few more turns. “It’s the last house on the right. Beige, with cranberry shutters.”
He pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, but didn’t make a move toward getting out. “What’s with the questions? We have sex and all of a sudden you’re interested in my childhood?”
Too stunned to respond, Emma stared at him for a minute. Then she laughed. “You are so paranoid. It’s called making conversation.”
“So you’re not getting ideas now that we’re sleeping together?”
Still laughing, she opened her door and slid out of the truck. “No, I’m not getting any ideas about you and me.”
She had a few ideas an hour later, though, when Sean was sweaty and all sexy and in charge. Ideas about him getting sweaty with her. Ideas about him, naked and soapy in the shower. She even had a few ideas about finding some place secluded to park the truck and not waiting until they got home.
After giving the Johnsons’ tree limbs a good looking over, Sean had grabbed some rope and the chainsaw out of toolboxes in the back of her truck and gone to work. He was about halfway through the job now and, so far, she hadn’t had to do anything but guide a few of the smaller limbs away from the house with the rope after he tied them off.
Once he dropped a main limb, he made quick work of cutting off the smaller branches before cutting it into chunks of wood Emma, along with the homeowners, could set off to one side. It would be a while before it would be any good in a woodstove, but Mr. Johnson was going to stack it and let it dry out. She didn’t normally let her clients work alongside her, but it made her feel better about the fact she was going to charge them next to nothing. But after a while, Mrs. Johnson brought out lemonades for Emma and Sean, then fussed at her husband to get in out of the sun for a few minutes.
“I was out of line before,” Sean said when they were alone.
“When before? Not letting me drive? The sticky note on the bathroom asking me to never make pasta salad again?”
“Before, when I assumed you were picking out white picket fences just because you asked me about my childhood.”
“I already have a white fence. Which I installed all by myself, by the way.” She took a sip of her lemonade. “I’m not sure what kind of women you’ve dated before, but I don’t hear wedding bells during sex.”
“I guess I’ve dated some women who do, then. Just wanted to make sure things aren’t getting messy.” He drained his glass, then he pulled up the hem of his T-shirt and mopped the sweat off his face, baring the abs she loved running her hands over. And, of course, he caught her looking. “Speaking of sex, maybe you should—”
That thought was cut off by the reappearance of Mrs. Johnson, and Sean flashed Emma a naughty grin. “I’ll tell you later.”
She’d look forward to it.
Chapter Fourteen