The rest of her sentence died on her tongue as she swallowed past the lump in her throat.
“Maverick?” She almost leaped into his arms.
Almost.
He looked equally happy to see her, his eyes a lively blue and his lips sliding into a slow, untroubled smile.
“Hi, Shortcake.” His deep, friendly voice erased every ill thought she’d had about him over the past two days.
“What are you doing here? Is everything okay? Who’s working the ranch? Don’t you have a lot to do this week before you go?”
His dimples made a subtle appearance. “First things first, everyone’s fine.”
“That didn’t sound very convincing.”
“Probably because I left Hunter a note that I was driving here and would be back tonight and he’s no doubt cursing my name and the day I was born and planning some form of revenge.” He nodded inside her apartment. “Can I come in?”
“Yes, of course.” She stepped aside to give him entry. His smell engulfed her, making her legs weak. God, he smelled good.
He stood in the middle of the room in jeans, a black T-shirt, and boots and glanced around her apartment.
“I was just finishing breakfast. Can I make you some eggs and toast?”
“No thanks, I’m good,” he said, finally meeting her gaze.
She couldn’t stop staring at him, was lightheaded from the way he filled the space—her space—and from those earnest blue eyes of his.
“Kennedy?”
“Uh-huh?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sorry.” She blinked away his mojo. “Just surprised to see you.”
He made a motion for them to sit. With his broad shoulders, he took up a good portion of the couch, but she managed to situate herself on the opposite end and leave some much-needed space between them. She deserved a medal for the Herculean effort it took to resist touching him. Does he have a magnet in his pocket with my name on it or what?
“I didn’t like how we left things, so I drove down this morning hoping to catch you. I tried calling but—”
“My phone broke,” she interrupted.
“So you’re not ignoring me?”
She shook her head. She feared he’d always hold a place in her head and heart. “Not on purpose.” And wow. He must have left at two a.m. to be here now. “Don’t move.” She jumped to her feet and poured him a cup of coffee. “It’s not Claudia’s, but it’s all I have,” she said, handing him the kick of caffeine that tasted maybe half as good as the brew from Baked on Main.
His fingers brushed hers on the handoff. The usual tingles danced up her arm.
“Did you leave me a message on my phone?” she asked, voice steady, thank goodness.
“A couple.”
“I didn’t think I’d hear from you again. What did they say?” Two days ago when she’d stood in his kitchen, their relationship lay in ruins at her feet, but now she hoped he was here to bring it back to life.
“I always planned on a proper goodbye, despite what I think you took away from my letter.” He narrowed his eyes, not in an angry way but in a pleasantly annoyed way, and she understood—she had read it without asking. “What I wrote that day wasn’t meant for anyone to see.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have looked at any of them.” She ducked her head, ashamed of herself for invading his privacy.
He lifted her chin with his finger. “You’re right—you shouldn’t have. But I’m sorry, too, if I hurt your feelings.”
They traded small smiles.
“So you came here to set the record straight?” Because nothing else had changed. She was still headed to Boston and he was still set to travel and return to Windsong.
“I came because I needed to see you in person. First, to wish you luck on your interview and safe travels. But more importantly, Bethany mentioned you yesterday afternoon, and when she said Hugo’s name, I remembered how special he was to you and I wanted to make sure…” He quickly inhaled, then let out a sigh. “I wanted to be here for you.”
She sucked in her lips to keep her emotions in check. And to stop herself from saying something foolish like, I love you, Maverick Owens.
“Is Hugo okay?” he asked when she didn’t say anything.
“Yes. Or he will be. He needs surgery again, but I’m confident he’ll come out of it better than ever. He’s a tough kid.”
“Like you were.” If he didn’t stop with the niceties, she feared she’d drag him to her bedroom. And keep him there for as long as he’d stay.
“Yeah.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” His gaze flitted around the room before settling on her carry-on bag. “Looks like you’re packed and ready to go.”
She jumped to her feet, having momentarily forgotten she needed to get a move on. “What time is it? I’m sorry to cut your visit short, but I need to get going. I told Hugo’s mom I’d swing by the hospital, and then I need to go buy a new phone before I head to the airport for my flight this afternoon.”
He stood, took her hand. “Would it help if I got the new phone for you and dropped it off at the hospital?”
His hand was warm, comforting. She focused on their joined fingers, the skin-to-skin contact setting her blood on fire. “That’s really nice of you, but I can do it.” The longer they prolonged their goodbye, the more it would hurt.
“I know you can, but—”
“No buts.” She locked eyes with him. “Thank you for coming all this way. It means a lot. And I’m glad we cleared the air and can go our separate ways without regrets.”
“If things were—”
“Different. I know.” She had no doubt the romantic side of her would imagine the two of them together for a long time to come. She’d close her eyes at night and picture him leaving her poems from Rumi, stealing her breath with kisses, laughing with her, making love to her.
“It was a hell of a week, Shortcake.”
“It was.”
“If you ever find yourself in need of some R and R, you know where to find me,” he said half facetiously, half wholeheartedly.
“I know where to find the ranch,” she teased.
“Close enough.”
“Safe travels to you, too.” She tried to slip her hand free, but he held tight. “And good luck with the pesticide. I’m holding you to that postcard you promised.”