Bayou Christmas (Cypress Cove #2) - Suzanne Jenkins Page 0,2
what prompted the dinner?”
“Brulee and I did the perimeter of the property today. All’s well, by the way; the horses look great. I saw about a dozen grazing in the woods. Anyway, it’s autumn out. The trees are all changed; there’s thick leaves on the ground. Someone was burning leaves, and I could smell the smoke. It made me melancholy for traditions. Thanksgiving dinner is up there at the top.”
“I’ll be there when you tell me.”
“Come after work,” she said, intertwining her fingers with his. “I’m going to start everything as soon as I get home.”
She didn’t mention Gus’s impending visit at his request.
“Can I stay the night?” he asked, his eyes at half-mast, burning into hers.
“Yes,” she whispered.
She’d thought about inviting her mother and Justin’s father, who were dating each other, but then thought about how nice it would be to have the first fire of the season after dinner and cuddle on the couch with Justin.
They had coffee and talked about activities with the horse rescue that they were both active in, Justin for years and Maggie just since she’d moved to the cottage. Their social life was slowly growing with couples they worked with in the rescue. Maggie wasn’t as eager to get involved with the other volunteers, just because she valued her peace and quiet. But because Justin was already an active member, she made it an act of her will to be sociable. He’d dated several of the women in the group, another powerful motivator to stay involved.
Threading his fingers through hers, he looked at her with such longing and desire that she was soon covered in goosebumps.
“Tell me what we’re going to do after dinner.”
“I thought we’d do laps around the yard,” she said, chuckling.
“I don’t think that will help,” he replied, grinning.
“We’re going to relax,” she said. “After you build a fire, I’ll open a bottle of chilled wine. Then we can lie on a blanket in front of the fireplace, and I’ll make passionate love to you.”
He sat up straight, his mouth hanging open. “Let’s go now. To hell with the turkey.”
Charmed, she laughed out loud, the other patrons smiling at the young couple obviously having fun.
Holding on to each other’s hands, they chatted more about their upcoming week. Justin had packed office hours at the clinic nearly every day, and Maggie was busy with a new client in her graphic design business. They’d take turns making plans for each other, and as difficult as it was for Justin, he’d try to space out their time together with a breather in between. Too much togetherness and Maggie withdrew. They were definitely an every-other-day kind of couple. So when she invited him for dinner after they’d just been together all weekend, he was thrilled.
After paying for their coffee, he placed his hand on her back and led her out of the café. “I’ll walk you down to the dock,” he said. “Can I bring anything tonight?”
“Just your toothbrush,” she said, laughing. “It might be time for me to share a drawer in my bathroom for your personal items.”
“Wow, I’m honored.”
“It’s the least I can do,” she said, still laughing. “Your horse has more stuff at my place than you do.”
“I’ll be selective about what I bring. No hemorrhoid cream.”
“Oh god,” she said, grimacing. “Too much information!”
He hugged her with one arm as they approached the dock. Bending down, he scratched Brulee behind the ears again. “Good girl,” he mumbled, wishing they would just get married and get it over with. He loved her so much, her and her little dog.
She grabbed his arm in front of Gus and kissed him on the lips. “I’ll see you after work,” she said, winking.
Helping Brulee get into the boat, Justin and Gus made small talk, throwing the lines to Maggie. The boat started right up as usual, and they watched and waved as she pulled away from the dock, headed home.
“Talk to you later, Gus,” Justin said, moving down the sidewalk to the post office. He’d count the minutes until he could be with Maggie again.
On the cool, fall day, the ride back to Bayou Cottage reminded Maggie of childhood visits with her grandparents, and boat rides where she’d get splashed with cold mist as her grandfather sped home from the village. She rounded the bend, and there, nailed to the end of the dock, was her new mati, or Greek evil eye, painted on plywood so she could tell which dock was hers since they