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Thanks to jhuntnifer for the read through. I have a couple of chapters saved up and ready so I can guarantee a few timely updates of this! Yay! I'm thinking once a week. Reviews could help make that happen. :D
Ten minutes later I was standing outside the door of his cottage. I really wanted him to be out. If he wasn’t home then I could leave a note. Notes are good. I’m good at notes. Notes equal all of the apology with none of the awkward seeing each other part. I prayed to my newly invented Goddesses of Womenly Justice that he was out running errands.


He answered after my first light knock. My very own deities were already failing me. “Good D….” He stopped speaking mid-word and stared at me wide eyed. He actually looked scared. Not just tense or annoyed, the man looked genuinely frightened. I wondered what he thought I was there to do. The idea of a woman following a man home to continue telling him off popped into my head and I had to hold off a giggle. I get a little giggly when I’m nervous. It’s not a trait that I’m proud of.


I took a deep breath, held up my sugar-filled peace offering and gave him a big smile. Looking up at him, I realized that he was taller than I’d thought. He was certainly several inches taller than me and not as thin as I’d thought either. He was clearly a man, not a boy like I’d assumed. His clothes were too big; I hadn’t been wrong about that. The baggy fabric made him look smaller than he was though and I wondered why no one had ever explained that to him. I imagined that he was a spy and a martial arts expert and that this was all a cover to make him look less threatening. Then, because it’s what I do, I tried to decide what kind of girl I’d pair him up with. She would have to be pretty independent to handle all his disappearances. He’d show up at her place in the middle of the night with a mysterious injury and she’d nurse him back to health.


“Can I help you?” I was imagining him leaving her for a hot Russian spy when his voice broke my revelry and I caught a hint of an accent. Spy.


“I--I just wanted to apologize for--for--um…” I could feel my cheeks heating up. “And thank you for the laptop rescue. Joyce, the waitress, she said that you liked cupcakes, so I—”


He laughed.


The startlingly deep sound tugged on my stomach and I suddenly felt ridiculous. I shook my head. “And you don’t even like cupcakes and wouldn’t want these anyway because I just screamed at you like a banshee and this was—a really bad idea, I—” I started to turn away but he reached out to stop me. I looked down at his hand on my arm in surprise. I was just noticing how long his fingers were when he pulled it away. He probably thought I was about to bite it off. I couldn’t blame him for being a bit on edge given our earlier encounter, but his reaction was starting to irritate me.


“Joyce has decided that I am too thin.” His accent was British, I realized. I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t noticed that in the café. I shook off the thought and tried to focus on his words as he continued. “She has been plying me with cakes and breads for nearly three weeks. Bit of a mother hen, that one, though she means well I’m sure. Now, it seems…” He laughed again and I decided that it was a gorgeous sound.


I grinned as understanding dawned bright and clear. “Now she is sending strange women bearing cupcakes to your doorstep. I’m sorry. I—I’m actually renting the place next door and I really did just want to apologize for—for earlier.” I shook my head and looked down at the pastry box. I still couldn’t believe that she’d talked me into this.


“I do though.”


What? I looked up at him in confusion.


“Like cake,” he clarified. “Who doesn’t like cake, right?” He gave me a little smile and ducked his head.


I realized then that he was going to accept cupcakes from the crazy girl just so that she wouldn’t feel as embarrassed. I was a snake. I had apparently just chewed out the nicest guy on the planet. He was almost too nice. I’d have been suspicious if Joyce hadn’t told me that he’d been in town for weeks. The paparazzi couldn’t have gotten here before I’d even decided to come. Nope, I couldn’t deny the obvious; I was a big old jerk and he was a sweetheart. I could just imagine a legion of grandmas chasing me down and beating me with their handbags all while they swooned and comforted the unbelievable Mr Pratt with bowls of homemade chicken soup. Clearly it would be best, I decided, if I finished this quickly and avoided any further contact.


“Not…not that you should feel—that is you certainly don’t need to—I” He exhaled quickly and dropped his gaze to the floor. A wave of dusty blond curls slid down to cover his eyes, but his hair wasn’t long enough to hide the fact that he was blushing. He spoke again without looking up. “I’d be glad to accept your apology without the cupcakes, that is—I’m certain you had good reason to be upset. If I gave the wrong impression, I’m—”


“Whoa!” I pushed the box into his hands. “Please! Don’t apologize!”


He looked up, clearly startled by my reaction. His brow furrowed and I noticed that his glasses were helping to hide his remarkably pale blue eyes, eyes that were currently looking at me with concern.


I held up both hands in the universal “stop” signal. “You were trying to be helpful and I was a mega-bitch, if you apologize I will probably die of guilt.”


He chuckled again and again I was startled by the sensuality of the sound. I’d never really thought about a laugh being sexy. His was. Not that I was looking for a man to have a sexy anything. Seriously, I had learned my lesson; no more men for Buffy. Besides he was clearly nice, but really not my type. I’ve always been more into the classic tall, dark and handsome kind of guy. Show me some broad shoulders and a touch of cocky arrogance and I’ll show you a weak-kneed Buffy.


“Can’t have that, can we?” He gave me a tentative smile and I beamed.


“Thank you.” I almost let out a sigh of relief. Apology done, all I had to do was wrap this up and walk the few yards to my door without any further humiliation and I’d be free to snuggle up with one of the cozy quilts provided by the landlady and have a lovely evening of self-wallowing.


He lifted the pastry box slightly. “Thank you.” He nodded.


“I’m Buffy, by the way.” I was lifting my hand to offer a hand shake when I heard the sound of an annoyed cat.


Mrow.


Sure enough, a small black cat was winding its way around Mr Pratt’s legs. It looked up at me and mrowed again. I was obviously not welcome. I grinned. “You have a cat!” I’ve always had a weakness for cats, especially bitchy ones.


He shrugged. “Seems that she comes with the cottage, just showed up the first night and demanded her dinner.” He leaned down and gave her a rub behind her ears.


“Which you, of course, gave her.” I laughed. “Does she have a name?”


“I’ve been calling her Maggie.” He looked up to see if I got the joke.


“Tennessee Williams?”


He nodded. “Not that this Maggie ever appears desperate.” He gave me a wry grin and I suddenly realized that he was cute. I mean, really not my type, but still—cute. I found myself wondering what he’d look like without the glasses or with a better haircut. I quickly reeled myself in. It’s not what I was there for. “Anyway, I’m Buffy and I’ll be next door for a bit, so…” I looked eagerly at the cottage that would soon be my escape.


“Right. Sorry. William Pratt. It was lovely to meet you, Miss…Miss Buffy.”


I laughed at that. “Just Buffy is fine. I’ll let you get back to your day now, Mr Pratt.” I grinned; I’d been unable to help myself from teasing his formality. His responding blush tempted me to tease him some more. Bad Buffy. I gave a dorky little wave and left before I could cause any more damage.


I got back to the cottage and was not surprised to find a message from my agent. No pressure, she assured me, she just wanted to see how things were going. The thing about writer’s block, friendly check-ups never really help. At least they don’t help me. It’s not that I lack the discipline. Even with everything that has been going on, I sat down and tried to write almost every day. Tried, being the important word there.


I didn’t return her call. Instead, I put away my laptop and checked out the bicycle that came with the rental. Camponesset Island is really small; you can pretty much walk the whole place in an hour so there are not a lot of cars, most people walk or ride bikes to get around. Coming from L.A, I was shocked at how quiet it was without all the traffic that I’m used to.


I had spotted the island grocery shop while I was out earlier. It was a quick walk, but the baskets on the bike would make bringing groceries home easier. I wiped it down and couldn’t resist testing the little bell. It was perfect.


An hour and a half later I had an adequately stocked little kitchen and a can of clam chowder heating up on the stove. I opened a bottle of merlot and finally curled up with the cozy throws on the couch. It was really too early to be seriously considering putting on my pajamas and settling in with a nighttime read. I decided to do just that.


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