None of those things mattered.
Only, as soon as he climbed into the driver’s seat beside her, she did her darnedest to notice if he wore a wedding ring. His fingers were all bare. Not that that meant he was unattached.
“So, do you live on the ranch?” she asked.
“I do.”
“And are you the local veterinarian as well?”
His hands tightened on the steering wheel. “I take it you’re an MD now,” he said in lieu of answering her.
“Did my fine suturing skills give me away? Or was it Dr. Choi’s use of the name ‘Dr. Martin’?”
“What field are you in?”
“Emergency medicine. And you? I’m guessing big animals. That’s a specialty, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
“And that doesn’t answer my original question. Again.” She pulled her seat belt away from her body so she could turn to face him. Make him a little nervous with plenty of unwanted attention. He’d hated it in college when she stared at him in their lecture halls because she always won their silent contest when he looked away first.
Out of the corner of her eye, she did note his truck was clean, on the newer side, and a smooth oval rock about three inches in diameter sat in the cup holder. A worry stone. What did Maverick stress about?
“How long have you been practicing?” he asked.
“How long have you?” She was almost certain their advanced education included the same number of years, but were vets required to do a residency, too?
He pulled into a parking spot on Main Street and cut off the engine.
At his silence, she kept going, genuinely interested in knowing more. “And what kind of practice do you do?” She may have disliked him in college, and wasn’t particularly fond of him now, but he’d always been intelligent and thoughtful and she didn’t begrudge him achieving his dream of being a veterinarian. She wished him well even if he’d been a thorn in her side.
“I don’t. I didn’t finish vet school.”
“Really?” This was hard to believe—he was such a go-getter in college. “How come?”
“Long story.” He got out of the car and strode around the back of the truck, effectively blocking her view of him. It shouldn’t matter to her why he didn’t elaborate, but it did.
She opened the car door and slid out, the skirt of her green sleeveless wraparound dress gaping slightly open at her knees. Her heels hit the curb with a dull thud.
“I recommend a pair of closed-toe shoes while you’re here,” Maverick said, his gaze not on her feet but on her legs before his eyes jumped up to lock on hers.
“That is one recommendation of yours I think I’ll take.”
“The shop is on the corner.” He helped close her door, then led her down the street. A middle-aged couple walking toward them smiled warmly at Maverick. “Hi, Barb. Hi, Chris,” he said.
“Hi, Maverick.” Barb’s gaze quickly zeroed in on Kennedy. “You must be Dr. Martin.” She stopped to give Kennedy a quick arm squeeze. “It’s so nice to meet you. Doc sang your praises.”
“He did?” She glanced at Maverick.
“Small town. News travels fast,” he said.
“I better be on my best behavior, then,” she teased, and hoped the lies piling up didn’t come back to bite her in the ass.
“You’re here for the week? For the Carson wedding?” Barb asked.
“I am. Did Doc tell you that, too?”
“No, that came from Mary Rose. I just got off the phone with her.” Mary Rose Owens: Maverick’s mom and apparent purveyor of wedding news. “Chris and I own the local vineyard and we’re supplying the wine for the reception. Of course your name came up.”
Kennedy was about to ask why that was when Maverick said, “It was nice seeing you both. Have a good night.” He took her elbow and practically dragged her away—no doubt he didn’t like news of her attending the wedding any more than she did.
She opened her mouth to tell him to chill out when an older gentleman crossed their path and tipped his cowboy hat at them. “Hello, Maverick. Dr. Martin.”
Was she in the Twilight Zone? Had she fallen asleep when she’d changed her clothes and this was a dream? Small town aside, she’d been in Windsong for all of three hours. “Hi,” she muttered.
Maverick let go of her arm. “Hey, Uncle Tim, how are you?”
Uncle? That explained it. And once again, Maverick didn’t seem the least bit surprised his uncle knew who she was.
He did, however, let out a faint breath of annoyance. “Good. It’s nice to see you out with a pretty lady. Been a long time.”
“It’s…not really like that,” Maverick asserted.
This was too good an opportunity to pass up. Ruffle Maverick’s feathers? Yes, please. “It’s not? What would you call it, then?” she asked as she batted her eyelashes up at him.
His brow wrinkled. “An escort.”
She made sure to overplay her stunned expression, her mouth dropping so far open, it hurt her jaw. “I had no idea you charged for your services. Uncle Tim, did you know—”
“That’s enough.”
Maverick could reprimand her all day, but she wouldn’t stop until she was good and ready.
“I mean, isn’t it customary to let a client know before you—”
“Kennedy.” The way he said her name, like she had a tongue-lashing coming, made her giggle.
Uncle Tim laughed, too. “You’ve got your hands full with this one. I’ll leave you both to it. See you later, Mav.”
“Yeah.” Maverick put his hand on the small of her back and ushered her forward, most likely in hopes of getting her off the street as quickly as possible.
“No more conversations for you,” he teased as the delicious smell of bread and chocolate wafted out of Baked on Main. “It’s bad enough my whole family now believes you’re here for the wedding.”
“That is why I’m here.” She spun away from his too-close proximity and practically pressed her nose against the window to check out the inside of the bakery. A line of people stood at the counter. Her stomach growled.
“No, you’re here for the groom.”
“Potato, potahto.”
“The shop’s this way, Shortcake.”
“Or…” She stopped herself. She’d come back for something sweet another time. When she didn’t have the company of an impatient six-foot-something ranch owner and could enjoy herself.