Page 71 of The Maverick's Homecoming

And then what? Ask her to marry him over the crème brûlée?

He dropped to the sofa. His options in the near future were limited. And Satterfield’s did sound better than at her place over chili.

He grabbed his phone and called her.

She picked up on the first ring and asked, “Are you on your way?”

His throat had locked up. He gave a ridiculous cough to clear the tightness and then asked, “How about I see if we can still get a table at Satterfield’s?”

She laughed. “Tonight?”

“Well, uh, yeah…”

“What? You don’t like my chili?”

He could hear the smile in her voice and knew she was teasing him.“I love your chili. I just thought, you know…”

“What?”

“How about a nice Saturday night out for once?”

“Hmm…”

“Not in the mood for Satterfield’s huh?”

“Hey. I’m in my third trimester. Last night, I drove to Buffalo Butte and back. While I was there, I irrigated, dressed and immobilized a compound tibial fracture. Then back here at home, the hottest guy I’ve ever known kept me up past my bedtime—and no, I’m not complaining that we stayed up late last night. It was worth it. But tonight, I just want to hang around the house and go to bed early, preferably with you.” She laughed again, the throaty sound making him want to reach through the phone and gather her close.

She went on, “Right now, I’m in my old, ratty sweats and all I want is you, my kitties, a bowl of chili and maybe to check out what’s on Hulu.”

By then, he was smiling, too. “Twenty minutes, I’m there.”

* * *

As soon as he walked in the door, Kenzie knew something was up.

For the next couple of hours, as they played with Tom and Ed, chowed down on chili and watched an ancient Clint Eastwood movie, she kept thinking,Whatever it is, he’s going to tell me any minute now. But he didn’t.

She kept catching him watching her, the strangest look on his face. As though he had something to say and was right on the verge of saying it—and then, at the last possible second, for some unknowable reason, he changed his mind.

Finally, after the movie and the popcorn, after the cats had curled up together in their bed by the fireplace, she couldn’t stand it anymore.

They were sitting on the sofa. He had an arm around her. She’d drawn her legs up the side and put her head on his shoulder.

“Whatever it is you have on your mind,” she said softly, tipping her face up to look in his eyes, “it can’t be that bad. You should just tell me.”

He kissed her, a light kiss, tender and so very sweet—and why was it that she just couldn’t read him tonight?

He looked…worried, somehow. Even a little bit scared.

Finn Monahan never looked scared.

“Talk to me,” she said, lifting her head to face him directly. Was he ill? Had he gotten bad news about Sean? “Finn. Please…”

He leaned close and kissed her. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

Without another word, he jumped up and headed for the door. She watched him reach into the pocket of his team jacket, which was hooked on the coatrack there. When he pulled his hand out, he had something in his fist.

She stared, bewildered, as he came back to her. When he reached her, he pushed the coffee table away from the sofa.