and people got a look at the color of his skin. His skin color wasn’t as dark as Mac’s, but anyone could see he didn't share the pale shade of his brother River. It didn’t take long for the rumors to start about his parentage. Knowing he was the topic of gossip had stung, and Thorne had found it was easier to spend time with Mac and the horses while he was growing up. The ranch had been his safe space, free from whispers and rude stares.
As he'd gotten older, Thorne had been curious about Livia and Mac, but he knew better than to press for details. Mac never talked about it, and no amount of pestering was going to get him to open up about the experience. Thorne figured his father had his reasons for keeping things to himself. Some things were better left unsaid.
He pushed aside the image of his father’s frowning face and gestured for Maggie to precede him up the stairs that led to his apartment over the supply building. He was careful to keep his eyes on the floor and off her, a task that proved rather difficult. She stopped when she reached his door, and he tugged his keys free from his pocket to let them both inside.
Thorne walked in first and flipped on a light, his eyes doing a quick scan of the apartment in search of any grievous messes that required immediate attention. He hadn’t exactly considered the state of his home when he’d issued the dinner invitation, but he was relieved to see the place didn’t look too bad. An empty glass sat on the worn wooden coffee table and his denim work jacket hung on the back of a chair, but other than that his apartment was fairly clean. It was a testament to how much he worked as opposed to any great housekeeping skills on his part, but no matter—the effect was the same.
Maggie hung back by the still-open door, appearing suddenly shy.
“Everything okay?” Was she having second thoughts? He couldn’t blame her if that was the case. They exchanged pleasant greetings every time their paths crossed, but they were basically strangers. It made sense she might worry about being alone with him in his apartment. “Would you rather I ordered a pizza and we sat in the office?” They’d still be alone together, but sitting there would keep things from feeling so...personal.
“I’m fine,” she said. “I just don’t want to drip water all over your floors.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly assured her. “Let me grab you a towel so you can dry off.” He trotted down the hall to the bathroom and grabbed fresh towels from the cabinet, then returned and handed one to her. “Here you go.”
Maggie took it with a smile. “Thanks.” She began to dab at her face and clothes and he did the same. The towels quickly grew dark as they soaked up the rain, but Thorne was feeling drier already.
Thorne gestured down the hall. “The bathroom is the door on the right, if you’d like to freshen up a bit.”
“I will, if you don’t mind.”
He shook his head. “Not at all. I’ll just get things started in the kitchen.”
Maggie moved past him and he caught a whiff of her scent—vanilla and coconut, like some kind of exotic, intoxicating drink. Thorne was suddenly very aware of how he must smell after working with the horses all day—sweaty, stale and probably on the stinky side. Too bad there wasn’t time for a quick shower before he started cooking.
But Maggie didn’t appear to be bothered by his eau de livestock odor, so he shrugged and stepped into the small kitchen. Besides, he told himself as he gathered plates and silverware from the cupboards, this isn’t a date or anything.
And wasn’t that just too bad? He couldn’t deny that Maggie had captured his heart from the beginning. He’d met her when she’d started doing the books for Mac, and it hadn’t taken long to fall under her spell. But it wasn’t just her appearance that drew him in. It was the way she looked at him, as if she saw him for his own sake and not as an object of speculation or gossip. His siblings and Mac were the only people to treat him like a normal person instead of a walking scandal. The fact that Maggie didn’t appear to be fazed by his unorthodox roots and Livia's many crimes made her even more attractive, and he’d spent many an idle moment wondering what it would be like to get to know her better.
Maybe he could start tonight. It was the best chance he'd had in a while to really talk to her. Usually when she came out to work on Mac's books, Thorne was called away to a far part of the ranch to fix a fence or round up a stray calf. This was the first time in months he'd seen her for more than a minute, and he should make the most of it.
The table set, he opened the fridge and stared at the shelves with a critical eye. What to fix for dinner? Normally, he didn’t give the subject much thought but tonight was different. He wanted to make something nice that Maggie would enjoy, but not something with especially romantic overtones—he didn’t want her to think he was coming on too strong. Since he didn’t exactly have a fridge full of oysters and chocolate-covered strawberries, there really wasn’t any danger of giving off the impression he was trying to woo her with food. But he did need to come up with a decent meal, lest she think he survived only on TV dinners and the odd PB&J.
Which wasn’t too far from the truth, but still. He had his pride.
Thinking quickly, Thorne reached into the fridge and gathered up the ingredients to make a simple quiche, depositing them on the countertop. He set the oven to preheat, then rolled up his sleeves and got to work chopping vegetables.
“Can I help?”
Thorne jumped at the sound of Maggie’s voice. The knife in his hand slipped, the sharp edge of the blade scoring the pad of his thumb. He dropped the offending tool with a muffled curse and stuck his thumb in his mouth, easing the sting of the cut with his tongue. He’d been so engrossed in his task he hadn’t heard her walk in behind him, and now he looked like a clumsy oaf.
Maggie’s eyes were wide with concern. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to startle you!”
He pulled his thumb out of his mouth and examined it. “Don’t worry about it,” he told her. The cut was deep enough to bleed freely, but not so bad as to require stitches. It was more of an annoyance than anything else.
Before he could protest, Maggie grabbed his hand a pressed a wad of paper towels to his thumb. There was nothing remotely sexual about her touch, but a thrill shot through his limbs from the contact. She bit her plump bottom lip as she stared down at his hand, and she was standing so close he could feel the heat coming off her body. She was so focused on his hand he was free to study her face, and he traced the lines of her features with his gaze. Her eyelashes were still a little spiky from the rain and her cheeks held a soft pink glow that reminded him of the color of sunrise. There was a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, something he’d never noticed before. And this close, he could see the faint laugh lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth.
Her vanilla-coconut scent filled his nose and went straight to his head, making him feel a little dizzy. He wanted to lean forward and bury his nose in her hair, to drink in her perfume until it filled his lungs and saturated his senses. He leaned forward without realizing it and would have done it if Maggie hadn’t lifted her head and met his eyes.
Surprise flashed in her bright blue gaze as she realized how close he was. She sucked in a breath, and a look of such naked yearning appeared on her face Thorne found himself reaching for her instinctively. It was clear she wanted him, and his body rejoiced at the realization. There were a million reasons why this was a bad idea, but he ignored them all. He wasn’t interested in thinking right now—he only wanted to feel.
His free hand found her cheek and he touched her gently, silently asking permission.
