The Widow's Bachelor Bargain. Teresa Southwick

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commented.

      “That’s going to change when the resort is built. Mark my words.” April nodded knowingly. “Maybe you can convince your new boarder the builder to put up a movie theater.”

      “Or a shopping mall.” Delanie’s blue eyes took on a dreamy look. “I would happily indulge my love affair with shoes, especially the ones I didn’t have to drive an hour to buy.”

      The other two thought about that and sighed dreamily.

      “So what’s he like?” Delanie asked. “I saw Lucy the other day and she said Sloan Holden came into the café and had lunch with you.”

      “What did Lucy say about him?” Maggie hedged.

      “That he’s charming and handsome.”

      Maggie’s heart started beating just a little too fast as soon as his name came up. For the past couple of days she’d seen him at breakfast and dinner. And that one day for lunch. He was unfailingly polite, undemanding, and her daughter followed him around whenever she saw him. But what distracted Maggie most was what he’d said at lunch, the hint that he’d used serial dating as a cover until he found someone like her.

      Surely he’d been teasing. Although, if he really was anticommitment, hooking up with a widow who wasn’t interested in a relationship would certainly preserve his confirmed-bachelor status.

      “So, is he?” April demanded.

      Maggie blinked at her friends. “What?”

      “Pay attention, Potter,” Dee scolded. “Is he charming and handsome?”

      “Oh, I’m not the best person to ask.”

      “Come on,” April said. “You’re a woman and you’re breathing. We’ve watched movies together and rated the actors on a scale. If you can do that, you can give us an opinion.”

      “Since he’s a paying customer, it seems unprofessional to talk about him like this.”

      Delanie frowned at her. “What’s up? It isn’t like you not to share.”

      “I’m uncomfortable with the one-to-ten thing.”

      “Okay. We’ll compare him to actors and see how he holds up. I’ll start.” April took a sip of her wine. “Channing Tatum.”

      “Ooh,” Maggie said. “But no. Sloan is in good shape, but more like a runner than a wrestler.”

      “Okay. How about Taylor Kitsch?” Delanie shrugged. “I just rented the movie Battleship. It was cheesy, but I loved it.”

      Maggie knew the actor and thought for a moment, then shook her head. “He and Chris Pratt are a similar type and both are fantasy-worthy, but I wouldn’t say Sloan resembles them.”

      “Definitely fantasy material,” April agreed. “I just saw the musical Into the Woods and I have to say that Chris Pine works for me in a big way as Prince Charming.”

      “Bingo,” Maggie said. “He reminds me of Chris Pine, but with brown eyes and darker hair.”

      Delanie used her hand to fan herself. “Be still, my heart. And he’s under your roof. How do you sleep at night?”

      “Oh, you know. Exhausted after work, cooking for boarders and chasing after a toddler. I just close my eyes and...” Think about being alone in my big bed while Sloan is alone in his on the second floor of my house. “I’m sure you’ll both get a chance to meet him. This is a small town and—”

      The bell over the bar’s front door tinkled and all three women looked over to see who’d walked in. Maggie instantly recognized Sloan, who smiled when he saw her.

      “That’s him,” she whispered to her friends. “Sloan Holden.”

      Without hesitation, he walked over to their table. “Hi, Maggie. Mind if I join you ladies?”

      Before Maggie could think of a way to discourage him, her two friends enthusiastically invited him to pull up a chair. He did and settled in right next to her.

      “So you’re Sloan Holden,” Delanie said.

      “Yes.” He shook hands with her and April as they introduced themselves.

      “What are you doing here?” Maggie asked. Then she realized that sounded just the tiniest bit abrupt and unwelcoming. “I mean, did you have dinner? Josie promised to put everything on the table for me. Since my mom has Danielle, it’s a chance for me to have a night off.”

      “Yes, I did have dinner. Excellent pot roast, by the way. Josie mentioned that you were here and I felt like taking a night off myself.”

      The implication was that he’d come looking for her. Whether or not that was the case, the idea of it kicked up her pulse.

      “Delanie owns Bar None,” Maggie said.

      He looked at the redhead. “I’m impressed. This is a nice place.”

      “Thanks. Would you like a drink?”

      “Beer,” he said. “Whatever you have on draft.”

      “Coming right up.” Delanie slid off her chair and headed over to the bar, where the fill-in bartender was polishing glasses. She said something and the young woman grabbed a tall glass and filled it.

      “April owns a photography studio,” Maggie said, filling the silence.

      “I’ve seen it.” Sloan looked at the pretty brunette but gave no indication he noticed how pretty she was. “How’s business?”

      “A little slow when it’s not ski or boating season. Tourism drops off then, but I diversify. Besides portraits and wedding pictures, I sell my photographs of landscapes and wildlife. I freelance for high school events and sometimes the sheriff’s office needs photos taken.”

      “Sounds like you keep busy.”

      Delanie returned and set a glass on a napkin in front of him. “Welcome to Bar None. First one is on the house.”

      “Thank you.”

      For several moments, the four of them sipped their drinks in silence. Maggie could tell her friends felt a little uncomfortable after talking about him. Then he’d walked in and it was a little like getting caught with their hands in the cookie jar. She was preoccupied because his thigh kept brushing hers. He seemed bigger at this bistro table than he did in her dining room. She needed to act normal because her friends would notice, but she didn’t feel at all normal around Sloan.

      “So, Mr. Holden—”

      “Sloan, please,” he said.

      “Sloan,” April finally said. “I have a confession to make.”

      “Yeah. We need to come clean,” Delanie chimed in, obviously aware of what her friend was going to say. “We were talking about you when you came in. Gossiping, really.”

      “Oh?”

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