Once he was gone from her view she made her way downstairs to the kitchen. As she’d indulged her voyeuristic inclinations on the balcony she’d hatched a plan. She needed to see him face to face again. She remembered the way he’d made her feel last week. It was the first time she’d ever been rendered speechless by a man. She told herself again that it was scientific curiosity that pushed her forward. She needed to understand what it was about him that turned her brain to mush. She’d been surrounded by men at Harvard but none had affected her this way. Perhaps that’s why she felt so drawn to him. He was definitely outside her comfort zone.
However as she stepped onto the front porch her bravery vanished and all of her old familiar insecurities came crashing back. She would have turned around and headed straight back into the house if he hadn’t been right in front of her pruning the azalea bushes.
“Good morning, Ma’am.” He smiled up at her, casually flashing his charming dimples. Her knees felt a little weak. It must be the dimples.
“Please call me Maggie.” She was impressed with the strength of her voice. Her insides were quivering.
“Maggie.” The sensuous way her name rolled off his tongue made her heart beat a little faster. Maybe it was the southern accent.
“Would you like some lemonade? It’s awfully hot out here.” She remembered her plan and was grateful that she’d come up with something to say. She may have been turning to mush on the inside, but she felt like she was holding it together on the outside pretty well.
“Sure.” He smiled up at her again. “I’ve actually got something for you. I’ll be right back.” He turned and jogged to his truck that was parked in the driveway. She admired the view from behind.
She stood perfectly poised on the front porch as he retrieved a small paper bag from his truck and returned to the house. He climbed the steps and stopped in front of her, lifting his sunglasses from his eyes and resting them on top of his head. His sparkling blue eyes looked straight into hers and stirred something deep inside her. She had to turn away and walk into the house before she whimpered out loud. Without question, it was his eyes. That was definitely what made her forget her own name.
“How’s our patient doing?” he asked as they entered the kitchen.
“What?”
“Fred,” he said, gesturing to her plant near the window. She felt absolutely mortified that he not only knew that she’d named her plant, but actually remembered the name. Perhaps he was just humoring her the way kind people do when they meet someone crazy.
“Oh… um… he seems alright,” she stuttered as she handed him a glass of lemonade. Why couldn’t she form an intelligent sentence around this man?
“I brought this for him,” he said, holding up the paper sack. Speechlessly she accepted the bag and looked inside. It held a small brown plastic bottle.
“It’s rooting hormone,” he explained. “It should help with re-establishing a new root system. Works well for re-potting.” He leaned against the counter casually as he sipped his lemonade. He seemed completely at ease.
Maggie was so touched that he’d thought to bring this for her. She didn’t know what to say. Just then the cat came wandering into the kitchen and jumped onto the counter. He immediately crossed to the potted plant and circled around it once before laying at its base.
“They seem to have made up.” Aaron smiled, nodding toward the cat curled around the pot.
“Yeah, Killer’s made himself right at home,” Maggie muttered irritably. She couldn’t seem to keep him off the kitchen counter.
“Killer?” Aaron laughed. “Oh, come on, I don’t think he quite deserves that name. I mean, Fred did survive after all,” he teased her playfully. Maggie still couldn’t believe how easily he’d accepted her silly little name for her plant.
“I guess you’re right,” she said, watching the peacefully sleeping cat. “He doesn’t really look like a Killer.” She hated to admit it, but the cat was growing on her. He’d taken to sleeping curled up at her feet when she read in the library and often accompanied her on walks around the property in the mornings. His company was kind of nice.
“So what should we name him?” he asked.
“Maybe Barney?” she suggested. Aaron laughed loudly. It was such a genuine carefree laugh that Maggie found herself smiling with him instead of self-consciously analyzing what she’d said the way she normally would.
“Fred and Barney? Really?” Aaron laughed.
“I think he looks like a Barney,” Maggie defended. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling.
“That he does,” Aaron agreed. “Barney it is.”
Maggie smiled as she sipped her lemonade. She wasn’t really sure if he was flirting or just being nice, but she liked the way he teased her. She liked that there wasn’t a need for formal etiquette between them. They were just being themselves. Two people sipping lemonade and naming a cat.
“I take it you’re a fan of The Flintstones?” Aaron surprised her with his insightfulness.
“It was the only cartoon I ever watched as a child.” Maggie surprised herself even more with her admission.
“The only one?”