Ask Me Why by Marie Force Page A

way you think, Mrs. Abbott.”

T EN

    BACK IN BUTLER, Mary Larkin drove Patrick Murphy to the Abbotts’ home, where he was spending one more night before heading back to the city in the morning. Even though his hosts were heading in the same direction, Patrick had asked Mary to drive him.
    She couldn’t remember the last time she’d danced as much as she had at Will and Cameron’s wedding—and she’d danced every song with Patrick. He’d kept her laughing and entertained all evening, and she couldn’t deny that she was powerfully attracted to Cameron’s handsome, gregarious father.
    But Patrick’s reputation as a playboy had preceded him to Butler, and as much as Mary would enjoy the opportunity to get to know him better, she was no fool. Theirs had been a one-night flirtation, and that’s all it would ever be.
    â€œAre you in a rush to go right home?” Patrick asked as they headed into town.
    â€œWhat did you want to do?”
    â€œWhat’s there to do in these parts this time of night?”
    â€œNot much. There’s a piano bar at the inn, but it’s only open for another hour or so.”
    â€œThat sounds good to me. I could use a nightcap after giving away my daughter.”
    â€œThat was traumatic for you, huh?”
    â€œYou have no idea.” Though the comment was said lightly, Mary sensed he wasn’t entirely kidding. Despite his easy humor, she’d caught him looking wistfully at Cameron more than once during the evening and had wondered what he was thinking at those moments.
    Inside the Butler Inn, the piano bar was still open and several patrons were enjoying the music with their drinks.
    Patrick followed her to a booth far enough from the piano that they could talk without having to shout.
    Mary told herself that the hand he placed on her lower back didn’t mean anything. He probably did that as naturally as he drew oxygen to his lungs. Still, she sort of wished for a second that she were the type of woman who could allow herself to get carried away with such a gesture.
    When they were seated, a waitress came to take their order. “Soda water with lemon,” she said because she was driving.
    â€œI’ll have the same, but add a double shot of Ketel One to mine,” Patrick said.
    â€œWe have Grey Goose and Absolut, but no Ketel One,” the waitress replied.
    Patrick sighed deeply. “Grey Goose, please.”
    â€œComing right up.”
    â€œNo cell service and no Ketel One. How do you people function here?”
    Mary laughed at the look of utter distress on his face. “Somehow we survive.”
    â€œI can’t imagine how.”
    â€œYou city slickers are spoiled by having everything you could want or need at your fingertips.”
    â€œI’m definitely guilty of that.”
    â€œThat’s one of the things I love about living here. You have to make do with what you have. It makes you appreciate the simple things in life.”
    The waitress arrived with their drinks, and Patrick paid with a fifty-dollar bill.
    â€œThank you,” Mary said.
    â€œYou’re most welcome.”
    â€œHow’s the Grey Goose?”
    â€œIt’ll do in a pinch.”
    â€œYou’re spoiled, Patrick.”
    â€œI know,” he said with a sigh. “I wasn’t always, though. I grew up humbly and became spoiled much later. Money does that to people.”
    â€œI’ll have to take your word for that.”
    â€œWhat’s your story, sweet Mary from Vermont?”
    She felt her face flush from the compliment as much as the way he looked at her. “Not much of a story. I grew up in Stowe and moved over here to the Northeast Kingdom to work on the mountain after college at UVM. I took a part-time job at the store that led to the office manager position about fifteen years ago.”
    â€œNever been married?”
    â€œNope. Never even came close.”
    â€œHow’s