When Connor got home he changed from his date clothes into his khaki shorts and T-shirt. He headed to his desk, grabbed his bills, and sat down at the kitchen table.
The date had been a disappointment. It wasn’t Johanna’s fault. She was nice enough and very attractive. She seemed like a nice Christian woman. She didn’t talk too much or have an annoying laugh or complain about her ex—even though, according to Lexie, she had reason to.
They shared a love of boats and spent quite a while on that topic. She talked freely about her faith, spoke kindly about the people in her life—including Lexie—and found her work as an advisor at the university fulfilling.
And though he’d enjoyed their conversation, he couldn’t seem to dredge up any romantic interest in her. Especially once he’d noticed Maddy and her sisters across the dining room. From that point on, his mind had wandered often. Mostly toward Maddy.
He’d only just yesterday told her he hadn’t dated in years, and here he was out on a date. He hadn’t missed her guarded greeting and the absence of that infectious smile he’d witnessed on their walk back to the marina. Given that she’d recently been burned where men were concerned, her reaction wasn’t surprising. He felt bad about the misunderstanding, especially since it was her birthday.
He also felt guilty for not giving Johanna his undivided attention, even though she hadn’t seemed to notice. Their good-bye at her door had consisted of a platonic hug. She thanked him for the evening, and though he thought she’d probably go out with him again if he asked, he made no offer. Because of that the date had ended awkwardly.
Maybe he hadn’t given her enough of a chance. His dating experience was limited, as Annie had been his first love, but he remembered what a connection was supposed to feel like.
And with Johanna it just wasn’t there. He hadn’t hung on to her every word the way he had with Maddy the day before. He hadn’t been tempted to touch her hand, just to see how soft her skin was. He hadn’t even noticed the shape of her lips, much less wondered what they might taste like.
He ripped a finished check out of the checkbook and placed it in the envelope. Johanna had already texted to thank him again for the nice evening. He’d texted back something polite and noncommittal. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do next. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
A repetitive sound was drifting through the open windows, like someone was trying to pull-start a lawn mower. Connor got up to look.
Maddy was in her backyard bent over her grandma’s old Toro. That thing hadn’t been run in heaven knew how long. Connor usually did their grandma’s mowing after he finished his own, but lately he’d neglected it.
He slid on his flip-flops and left his house by way of the back deck. It was a pretty evening, the temperature mild, a light breeze blowing in off the sea. An egret, poised between their properties, took flight at his approach, its legs extending behind him like long black sticks.
The sputtering motor drew his attention. Maddy was giving the pull-start renewed effort, one tennis-shoe-clad foot braced on the mower’s frame. She wore a pair of yoga shorts and a long gray tank top that crisscrossed in the back, exposing sun-kissed shoulders. Her ponytail bobbed with her efforts.
The smell of gasoline wafted his way. “You’re flooding it,” he called.
Maddy didn’t seem to hear him over the noise.
“Maddy!” he called again.
She turned, breathing hard, a sheen of perspiration glistening on her forehead. A frown pulled at her brows, tugged at her lips. “You scared me.”
“Sorry ’bout that. You’ve flooded the engine. You need to let it rest awhile.”
Maddy let go of the pull cord, and it whipped back into the mower. “Stupid thing.”
He took a closer look at the mower. The throttle was open, and the spark plug was attached. He checked the oil and found it full. “Did you prime it?”
“Of course.”
“Put gas in?”
She gave him a look.
“Okay, well, I don’t think this thing’s been used in years. It probably needs some work done.”
He hadn’t imagined her guardedness at the restaurant. She was downright prickly. “I usually just run my mower over your grandma’s lawn when I finish mine. I’ve let it go the past couple of weeks, but I can do it tomorrow after work.”
“That won’t be necessary.” She wheeled the mower and pushed it up the grassy slope and onto the concrete walkway alongside the house.
“You can let it rest fifteen minutes or so and see if you have better luck, or I can lend you mine. It’s a lot newer and easier to maneuver.”
She brushed off her hands. “Thanks, but I’ll wait.”
Connor studied her face—the tightness at the corner of her eyes, the persistent frown, the stubborn set of her chin. “Suit yourself then.”
He found himself missing the way she’d looked at him yesterday, tilting a smile up at him, those amber flecks sparkling in her eyes. He hated that they’d had a misunderstanding.
