“Do you ride?” she asks, smoothing the collar of her silk blouse.
The Texas girl in me opens my mouth to say “yes” but I quickly amend my words, before I speak them. “Cali isn’t big on horses. At least, not in L.A. It seems like fun, though.”
“Oh it is. Shane loves to ride. We own the adjoining property to Mike’s just outside of Denver. Much smaller than his, as ours is simply a pleasure spot, and his is big business, but we have horses. You should come out one weekend.”
Shane and horses. Somehow, I have no idea why it fits him, but it’s hard to see prim and proper Maggie riding. “Thank you,” I say, but I’m confused as to why she’s being so nice when I’m supposed to be Shane’s one-minute woman, and therefore off Derek’s radar. “I am not sure Shane would want me to join you.”
She rests her elbows on the table and studies me. “Really? Because I saw how you two looked at each other.”
I don’t blink or look away. “What happened to warning me away so I don’t get hurt instead of teasing me with what I can’t have?”
“You already have him and from what I understand, it’s driving Derek crazy.”
“Okay, you’re very confusing,” I say. “In one breath, I have Shane, and in the other I’m the score sitting outside your husband’s door.”
“Whatever you started out being for my Shane, you’re more now and we both know it.”
“I don’t know it.”
“If you don’t, you will. But I think you do, and I think it’s lovely.” She opens her menu. “So, do you want recommendations?”
I’d push again toward the one-minute girl agenda, but who am I kidding? She’s made up her mind, and I have a feeling she’s made her thoughts clear to Derek, thus his attention this morning. “Recommendations would be great.” And from there, I am thankful for the reprieve from the darts being thrown at me, as the conversation turns to food, before we place our orders for overstuffed Texas baked potatoes that she swears are gourmet.
“Maggie Brandon.”
At the sound of a deep male voice, I look up to find a linebacker of a man, who I can only describe as a gray fox, his white dress shirt stretched over broad shoulders and rolled up his powerful forearms, his light blue tie a perfect match for his eyes.
“Mike,” Maggie says, accepting his hand, and oh wow. Her eyes warm the way I think mine do when I see Shane. “I had no idea you’d be here this afternoon.”
“Lucky it worked out this way,” he says, and he’s still holding on to her, and I’m pretty sure I don’t exist.
He releases her finally, though, and turns his attention to me. “You must be the Wonder Woman keeping David in line. Emily, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I say. “Emily, and I assume ‘David’ is Mr. Brandon.”
Maggie and Mike laugh. “Yes,” Maggie confirms. “That’s him.”
The two of them then share another look that is a little too familiar, and seems to be some kind of silent communication before Mike refocuses on me and extends his hand. “Forgive me,” he says, as I accept it. “I’m Mike—”
“Rogers,” I supply, and already he’s released me. No lingering grip for me. “I call your offices often.”
“Indeed,” he says. “And always urgently.”
I have no idea why, but I feel a little protective of Shane’s father, and I say, “He doesn’t exactly have a lot of time.”
“He never has,” Mike agrees, and I’m reminded that Brandon Senior’s retirement announcement is about hiding his cancer. Mike is close to Maggie, but I don’t think he knows, or he’s pretending not to quite well.
He glances at his Rolex and then back at Maggie. “You ladies enjoy your meal.”
“We will,” she says.
He gives her a nod, then turns one on me before disappearing into the main restaurant. Our food arrives at that moment, and Maggie is noticeably less talkative while being reserved on the eye contact. We chat about my dress but she doesn’t ask if Shane bought it this time. Her phone beeps and she looks at it. “That would be the senator. I need to find a quiet spot and call him. I’ll be right back.”
“Of course,” I say, removing my phone, texting Shane: I met Mike Rogers.
He doesn’t reply. And doesn’t reply. It’s not like him, but he’s a busy person, I know. I flag a waitress and ask for a bathroom. Once directed, I hurry through the bar and into another dining room, turning a corner to catch a glimpse of Mike with his hand on Maggie’s waist. I duck back around the wall and flatten, my fist balling at my chest.
“I have to get back to Emily,” she whispers, sounding breathless.
“But I want you more than she does, I promise you.”
That’s all I need to hear. I dash forward and back toward our seats; my mind is racing right along with my heart. Once I’m seated, looking like I’ve never left, it hits me then that Mike knew who I was without being told, so he had to know who Maggie was lunching with today. And Brandon Senior’s reference to her being gone often the other night when I was with Shane. My God. Is Brandon Senior having an affair because Maggie’s having one while he’s dying? Or vice versa? My hand goes to my throat. Oh no. Maggie controls the vote if she controls Mike. Which son has she picked to run the company? And how am I going to tell Shane any of this? I dread the way it’s going to hurt him.