Page 47 of The Maverick's Homecoming

Lauren faked a look of total shock. “Women have flaws? How dare you even suggest such a thing?”

Sandy played along. “I know, I know. I’ve gone too far. Down with the patriarchy! Women rule!”

They all three laughed at that. Across the room, two of their male colleagues eyed them warily.

With a sheepish grin, Lauren whispered out of the side of her mouth, “I guess we’d better keep it down.”

“You think?” Kenzie chuckled. And then, she asked, “Lauren, be straight with me now. Do you honestly believe you’ll ever get married again?”

Her friend didn’t answer for several seconds. Finally, Lauren sighed. “It’s doubtful. But if I ever do say yes again, the fella will have to be something really special.”

“‘Really special.’” Kenzie groaned. “What does that even mean?”

Sandy raised her hand again. “You need a definition? Leave it to the English teacher. Ahem. Special. It means better, greater, or otherwise different from what is usual. As forreally, think of it as meaning ‘in actual fact,’ as opposed to what is said or imagined to be true or possible. Therefore ‘really special’ means the guy would have to, in actual fact, be better, greater or—”

“Thank you, Ms. Rice,” said Lauren with a saccharine smile.

“You’re welcome.” Sandy gave Lauren gracious little nod.

Kenzie said nothing. She was thinking about Finn.

* * *

And Finn was thinking of Kenzie—constantly, as a matter of fact.

That afternoon when he spotted her by the bleachers at practice, he turned the practice over to Barrett and jogged to her side.

“Nurse Osborne,” he said. “How’re you doing?”

“Real good, Coach,” she replied. The wind caught a lock of her shining hair and pulled it free of her topknot. He had to fist his hand at his side to keep from reaching out to smooth it back behind the shell of her ear.

He just wanted to touch her, to pull her against him, cradle her close and kiss the top of her golden head.

But he couldn’t do that right there on the football field during practice. And tonight was no good. He had to show a couple of ranch properties right after practice. He should be finished by seven, with any luck. However, if he had to write an offer, it could go on until nine. Even ten.

So not tonight. Or tomorrow. He had to work tomorrow night, too.

“How about dinner Wednesday night?” he asked. “Whatever you’re in the mood for. Castillo’s? Satterfield’s? We could hang out at the Tenacity Social Club if that works for you.”

She looked hesitant. He knew she was about to turn him down.

But then she asked, “Do you like cats?”

He had no idea where that question had come from. On second thought, though, it was a hell of a lot better than “no, I won’t go out to dinner with you.”

“Yeah. Cats are great. They’re soft. Furry. The nice ones are affectionate.”

“What about dogs?”

“Dogs are also ayes. But they’re more work than a cat.”

“I totally agree with you,” she said. “A cat would be better…”

He peered at her more closely. “Are you messing with me?”

She smoothed her hand over her belly, gently, as though to reassure the sleeping baby within. “Maybe. A little.” She was trying not to laugh. He could see that now. “But I really am considering getting a pet.”

“Then you should get one.”