Springs?”
“An aversion to being cold.”
“Where did you go to school?”
“Texas A&M. I finished my training here at the clinic.”
“No kidding? I guess Aunt Marsha may have mentioned that, but I must’ve been just getting out of high school and was totally fixated on college at the time. How long have you lived next door?”
“Just over two years.”
That explained why they hadn’t met sooner. “I haven’t been getting over here as much.”
“And prior to that, there was college and grad school.”
That again confirmed that her aunt had confided plenty in him. “Well, Dad expected a 4.0 average daughter.”
Gage’s expression turned pained. “I don’t mean to offend, but your father sounds more like a field marshal or a paid personal trainer than a dad.”
He was partly correct, and Brooke could only admit ruefully, “He’s definitely one of a kind.” Not liking this subject any better, she nodded to Gage’s glass. “Are you ready for a refill? Now that the wine temperature has had a chance to warm to perfection, you should really like the bouquet.”
“I shouldn’t drink all of your present.”
Knowing by the halfhearted protest that he wanted her to coax him, she reached for his glass. “Wine is always better when shared.”
He outmaneuvered her and took her glass instead. “In that case, at least let me do the legwork. You enjoy the rest of this sunset.”
As he disappeared into the house, Humphrey looked perplexedly from her to the door. “Oh, don’t worry,” she assured the pooch. “He’ll be right back. You won’t have to suffer my company for too long.”
The soulful-eyed dog let his front paws slide, and he settled on his tummy, then rolled halfway over to press his back against her feet. After a second of surprise, Brooke leaned over again to stroke his sleek, short fur.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Charming. So if he likes me, you’re going to give me the benefit of the doubt? How magnanimous of you.”
Gage returned with the wine and a beefy treat from the pantry for Humphrey. The dog sprang up to a sitting position, grinning in pleasure. As soon as Gage gave him the snack, he lay down and started to chew enthusiastically.
“I thought treats after dinner were frowned upon?” she asked, accepting her glass.
“When I saw him scooting over to you, I thought he should get some reward.” After resuming his seat, Gage touched his glass to hers. “Here’s to things continuing to work out to everyone’s satisfaction.”
The openly inviting look in his eyes told Brooke that he was also talking about matters that had nothing to do with Humph behaving and bonding with her, or Aunt Marsha. But they soon fell into easy conversation again, and before Brooke knew it, their glasses were almost empty once more. They had covered several other topics—local politics, who was closing their business, who was opening one and finding a reliable lawn-care person. That last subject had Gage reacting right away.
“Don’t worry about it—I’ve been doing Marsha’s yard at the same time I’ve been doing mine. With my big zero-turn machine, it takes no time at all.”
“You’re sure? I already feel as though I’m taking advantage.”
“Positive. If the guilt gets too bad, just invite me over for another glass of wine.” When Gage noticed her slapping at mosquitoes for the third time, he reluctantly rose to his feet. “We’d better call it a night before the bats join the mosquitoes and try to carry you away.”
“Was that a diplomatically phrased short joke?” She narrowed her eyes with playful speculation.
“Only stating the obvious—you’re the one with the most tempting skin.”
Cocooned in the amber glow of the porch light that had just come on automatically, Brooke felt more than relaxed; she felt part of a special moment that she honestly wished wasn’t ending. What a surprise, considering her previous intent to keep him at arm’s distance.
“Thank you...and for the visit. I can’t remember when time passed so quickly or pleasantly,” she admitted, rising herself.
“That’s good to hear. That means if I suggest it again, you’ll say yes.”
Before she knew what was happening, Gage leaned over and tenderly kissed her cheek. The caress sent such a unique warmth through her body that Brooke tried to quickly blame it on the wine.
“That would be nice, but you’re the one who said you have more work than you can handle,” she reminded him, before any additional romantic thoughts—and ghostly yearnings—tripped her up. “And I have to get back to my schedule of spending evenings with Aunt Marsha.” Then doing the bookkeeping when she got home. That wasn’t going to happen tonight. Right now all she felt capable of doing was to shower and slide into her comfy bed.
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