The Maverick - By Jan Hudson Page 0,40
was not married. Cass refused to allow herself to even consider such a possibility. For the rest of the day, when the thought would pop into her head, she immediately quashed it and busied herself with some task or other—which wasn’t hard to do. They’d had a bang-up business for dinner as well. Even the food editor at one of the papers stopped by to see how things were going, and promised a mention in her column. Free publicity was always a help, though if business got much better, Cass didn’t know where she would put people.
When her cell phone rang at about nine-thirty and she saw who was calling, Cass was conflicted. Part of her was thrilled that Griff was calling; another part of her was distressed. She was going to have to ask.
Walking to her office for privacy, she said, “Hello, Griff. How’s the Big Apple?”
“Noisy and fast. I’ve been spoiled lately. My blood pressure is already up ten points. Or twenty. How was your first day back?”
“Hectic. Scads of customers. Griff?”
“Yes?”
“I have to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“Promise you won’t be offended.”
“Sounds ominous. I promise.”
She hesitated. Gutsy as she ordinarily was, it was a question she didn’t want to ask. Maybe she really didn’t want to hear the answer—or at least one of the possible answers. Taking a deep breath, she said, “Griff, are you married?”
When he stopped laughing, he said, “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“No, babe, I’m not married. Never have been. I’ve proposed to only one person in my life, and that was Lisa Davenport when we were in the second grade.”
“Did she accept?”
“As I recall, she punched me in the stomach and ran away.”
“How terrible.”
“I thought so. Scarred me for life.” He chuckled. “Why did you ask me if I was married?”
“Someone once told me men over thirty-five who aren’t married are either gay or rejects. I know you aren’t gay, and I can’t imagine you being anybody’s reject, so that leaves being married.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Remember Lisa.”
Cass could hear the amusement in his voice and felt like an idiot for asking. “You are over thirty-five, aren’t you?”
“I am.” He rattled off his birthday to verify his age.
“You have a birthday coming up next month.”
“I do,” he said. “Are you going to bake a cake for me?”
“Probably not, but I know a wonderful bakery that makes fantastic birthday cakes. When are you coming back to Austin?”
“I’m not sure. I have several meetings set up. It might be the weekend before I get back. Will you miss me?”
“Of course I will,” Cass said. “I’ve grown very used to your company.”
They soon said good-night, and Cass began her customary closing procedure. Talking with Griff had given her a warm glow, and she smiled as she stashed the day’s take in the big office safe. Either she or Sunny would deposit the cash and checks in the bank the next day.
By the time she’d set the alarm and locked up, she was bushed. Twelve-and fourteen-hour days were a bitch. What a treat it would be to fall in bed and sleep late the following morning.
Unfortunately, her sleep was restless, and the contractor called her at seven-thirty the next morning. She agreed to meet him at the POAC office in an hour to discuss renovations. Even though she had to drag herself to the shower, stinging water and excitement about the project soon perked her up, and she hurriedly dressed and drove to the site.
The contractor, Greg Gonzales, was waiting for her, clipboard in hand. She and Sunny and Greg had gone to high school together, and he had an excellent reputation for building and remodeling. He was as handsome as ever. In fact, she’d had a major crush on him when she’d been a sophomore, but he was a senior and interested in dating older girls.
“Hey, Greg,” she called, getting out of her car. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”
He grinned. “Nope. I just got here, and I’ve been looking at some of the other houses in the neighborhood. Some are looking good, others not so good.”
“I know. As I told you, those of us who bought houses on this street are committed to restoring them to either live in, rent or sell. I plan to live in this one and rent the other, and the sooner I can get them renovated, the sooner I’ll get a return on my money.”
“I did some work on the house across the street a few years