“My mother was a politician’s wife. She paid people to stare at her. It made her very happy. Besides, it couldn’t bother you too much. You spent eight extremely profitable years being stared at.”
“I can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”
Connor grinned, admiring her pluck. “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”
“You poor confused man. Do you have a short-term memory problem? How old are you, forty-five or so? That’s quite young to be going senile.”
“Thirty-four,” Connor corrected. “And I still have all my own teeth, too.”
Maxie shrugged. “You look much older in person than on television.”
“You know who I am?” Pleased, he crossed his arms over his broad chest and began rocking back and forth on the heels of his sneakers. “I’m flattered. Why didn’t you say something when I met you at the feed store?”
“I said I knew who you were, Mr. Garrett,” Maxie retorted. “I didn’t say I was a fan. Thank you for delivering my fertilizer. Having said that, I’m now going to walk you to your car and wave enthusiastically while you drive away.”
“I’m beginning to feel unwanted.” Connor lagged behind as she marched towards the house, a blissful smile on his face as he thoroughly appreciated the indignant rhythm of her rounded derriere. “We need to talk. Can’t you spare me a minute? I promise, it could be well worth your while.”
“My mother told me never to talk to strangers. You’re very strange, therefore I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Now who’s being rude? I’ve done nothing to—” He gave a low whistle. “Will you look at that? Holy cow…!”
Ever mindful of her Holsteins’ health, Maxie stopped and looked back. Connor Garrett was down on his haunches in front of the vegetable garden in the side yard. Boo had crouched down likewise, his head tilted inquisitively. “What are you doing?” she demanded, her patience wearing thin.
He looked up at her, his finger jabbing in the direction of the cabbages. “I just saw a rabbit.”
“And your point is?”
“It had bent ears,” Connor stressed. “Like they were broken or something. I swear, it was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. He just ducked under the cabbages.”
Maxine rolled her eyes. “His ears are supposed to look like that. That’s Harvey. He’s a lop-eared rabbit. He lives in the garden and helps me eat the produce. You don’t get out to the country much, do you?”
Connor stood up, a wave of color rising in his face. “Hey, very few of my acquaintances keep rabbits as pets, bent-eared or otherwise. When I saw him, I thought the poor guy was crippled or something. Why the name Harvey?”
“I’m a big Jimmy Stewart fan.”
“So why didn’t you name it Jimmy Stewart?”
“Didn’t you ever see the play Harvey? Or the movie? Jimmy Stewart had this imaginary rabbit—” She broke off abruptly. Connor Garrett was the enemy, and it wouldn’t be smart to strike up any sort of friendship. “Never mind, Mr. Garrett. I’m sure you have better things to do than talk about my rabbit.”
“Not really. Why won’t you call me Connor?”
She gave him a killer smile, a weapon left over from her life in the fast lane. “I treat all people of your advanced age with respect, Mr. Garrett. Let’s get moving. It’s getting cold out here and you’re keeping me from my dinner.”
Connor dropped in behind her again, making a soft “meow” sound deep in his throat. She glared at him over her shoulder, but kept walking. Connor’s low-slung canary-yellow rental car looked quite ridiculous next to her rugged power-wagon. It also appeared…locked. With the keys in the ignition.
“Are you kidding me?” Maxie walked around the car, trying both doors. “What kind of idiot locks his keys in the car?”
“I resent that,” Connor said in an injured tone. “Are you implying I did it on purpose? You have a definite ego problem if you think I want your story that bad.”
“What about the sunroof? Maybe we could slide it—”
Connor tried to look suitably mournful. It was difficult, considering he was enjoying himself enormously. “The sunroof doesn’t work. It’s broken. I plan on giving that rental company a piece of my mind when I return the car. I was assured this car was in perfect working—”
“Oh, shut up.” She stared at him, murder in her violet eyes. “You probably worked this whole thing out in advance. Locked the keys in the car, glued the sunroof closed—”
“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer. Besides, you told me to shut up.” Connor tried both doors himself, grunting as if exerting great effort. “Well, this is a stroke of poor luck.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it.”
“I’ll have to call a locksmith. Do you mind if I use your phone?”
Maxie was getting a migraine, her first in two years. “I’ll tell you something, Garrett. Even if I was your missing model, which I’m not, I would never, ever, ever consent to an interview with a sneaky, opportunistic, underhanded, oily—”
“Oily?” Sneaky, opportunistic and underhanded Connor could live with. Oily was a slur on his personal hygiene. “That was below the belt, Ms. Calhoon. You know, I’m beginning to think it was a mistake to come out here. If I could get in my car, I’d say good riddance and leave this very minute.”
Maxie deeply regretted never training Boo to kill on command. How could so much go so wrong in such a short period of time? Life had been so wonderfully uncomplicated when she’d walked into Howdy-Do Farm & Feed that morning. She’d just come from the bank and felt optimistic about her loan. Knowing both she and her cows would have money for food during the coming winter was a tremendous relief. She’d stopped at the donut shop and enjoyed the best apple fritter of her life. She was a contented woman.
And then Connor Garrett had stuck that lousy photograph under her nose and the bubble had burst.
“I don’t like you,” she told Connor succinctly, eyes narrowed. “You have no redeeming qualities.”
“You don’t know me yet,” Connor pointed out. “It’s much too soon to make a judgment call.”
“Believe me, I know you as well as I’m going to.”
He gave her a slow smile, a light of challenge in his dark eyes. “Wanna bet?”
While Maxie fortified herself with a Twinkie, Connor called a locksmith, but had to leave a message on his voice mail. When he hung up the phone, he looked at Maxie’s stormy expression and shrugged helplessly. “What am I supposed to do? Is it my fault he’s the only locksmith in Oakley? I’m sure he’ll get back to me as soon as possible.” Then, glancing beyond the kitchen window, he said, “I suppose I could wait outside. It looks like it might start raining again, but I certainly don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Why don’t I just wait on the porch swing? With any luck, the locksmith will get the message before I freeze to death. I’ll just leave you in peace, all right? I don’t want to be a bother….”
His wounded-puppy-dog act had no effect on Maxie. Still chewing, she shepherded Connor to the front door, pulling an afghan off the sofa along the way. “How considerate of you. Here, take this blanket. Wrap up snug and tight, and you probably won’t freeze to death.”
The glint of humor in Connor’s expression faded abruptly. “The hell you say! You actually expect me to wait outside?”
“It was your idea, Mr. Garrett,” Maxie said cheerfully. “I’ll turn on the porch light so you