Page 7 of Midlife Witch Unexpected

“A little quieter than Eugene?” I exclaimed. “Quieter than Eugene, Oregon? Quieter than Eugene is like dead.”

“Why did you come up here?” There was a comical tone in his voice as he slid his gaze sideways at me. “Escaping a bad marriage?”

“Is it obvious?”

“A little,” he shrugged. “What was wrong with Mr. Perfect?”

“He liked men,” I said.

Branson didn’t flinch or do the typical snicker or even the shocked response. All variations I’d gotten used to over the last few months. Instead, he simply nodded and spoke slowly. “Yeah, that would make things a little more complicated. I had a girlfriend once who told me she preferred women.”

“Ouch,” I said, but somehow, I felt a little lighter. “So, you know exactly how I feel.”

“Oh, I don’t think it matters if she went to a woman, or he went to a man. The reality is they just didn’t want us, and they wanted something else. Could’ve been anyone. Heck, it could’ve been anything in terms of something to take up their time. They could’ve started a new hobby to the exclusion of you. The reality is, they just wanted you out of their lives.”

“You sound a little bitter, too," I said.

He burst out laughing. “I’m a firm believer if you are with a person, you shouldn’t be with, then you need to get out of that relationship. So, no, I don’t think I’m bitter.”

“But you are single?” Oh, good Lord I didn’t just ask that. I wanted to crash through the floor and disappear. I totally sounded like I was just hitting on this guy who has got to be like twelve years younger than me. I looked out the truck window staring at the forest moving by. It wasn’t just the heater making me feel flushed and I was grateful for the dark night hiding my hot skin. I could feel Branson’s eyes bore into the back of my head.

“Yeah, I’m single,” he said.

Great. Now that has been established.

I cringed at the smile I could hear in his voice. Gratefully we turned into the driveway, and I jumped out of the truck the minute it came to a stop.

“You got the keys?” I asked looking at the hulking shadow of the two-story Victorian house I had inherited. It was all sorts of creepy but as I stood there in the dark coldness of the Oregon night, I had the overwhelming sense I had come home. Two stairwells swooped in from either side leading to a porch that stretched around the house. It had a gabled roof with one tower rising up from the back of the building.

“I do,” Branson said. “Let me get some lights switched on and show you around. It can be a little well, you know, homely in the dark.”

“Homely?” I murmured. “You realize that means like ugly. If it’s ugly in the dark what’s it going to be like in the day.”

“I didn’t mean homely,” he chuckled. “I meant lived in. You know, like someone has lived here a long, long time and hasn’t made any changes in forever.”

“Yeah, I imagine it hasn’t changed much other than degraded," I said.

“Your mom grew up here?” Branson asked me as we walked up the porch and he switched on the patio light. The terrace was in good shape. I was surprised. The building was clearly over a century old but the wood and trim and paint were perfect. As if the home had just been built yesterday.

“She did.” I agreed.

“Did you guys come here a lot as kids?” he asked.

“Not at all. Just when my grandmother died so it wasn’t a really happy time and it was in the winter. It sure is gloomy up here in the winter with all the rain.”

“I like to think of it as cozy,” Branson looked at me and - oh my gosh I think he just winked at me. Now normally a guy who winks at me makes me want to cringe but there was something about the way Branson did it; as if it was accidental with his long brown lashes just kissing each other. I shook my head trying to snap out of it. This guy was younger than me. A lot younger than me. I needed to get a grip on myself.

Branson was already in the house making his way through the lower rooms turning light switches on as he went. “I’m not sure which room you want to sleep in,” he said, “but I had all three of the rooms made up just in case, so they’re all fresh sheets, and you can pick which room you want.”

I was a little taken aback by thoughtfulness. But I had to bite my tongue before I asked him if he was gay. Straight men did nice things too. Thoughtful things. I couldn’t let my experience with Tim taint me for the rest of my life. Besides, chatting with Branson was just target practice. There was no way I was in his league, and I wasn’t about to try.

But then I watched him walking up the stairs and the way his butt squeezed in his jeans as he took each step and, well, given half a chance I might just take him for a ride. I closed my eyes and shook my head. Is this what middle age had done to me? Made me into the horniest woman I knew? Wanting to jump the nearest guy I could find. I glanced up at Branson who was on the landing holding my suitcase and staring at me. I wasn’t about to follow that man upstairs to a bedroom.

No way.

“I’ll just take the master,” I said, moving away from the danger that was Branson. I was already getting into enough trouble in this town without falling into bed with the guy who was technically my employee.

I walked through the large turquoise and gray kitchen, impressed with the massive dine-in eating area and the banquet table that sprawled there. Clearly, my family liked to cook and have people over in the kitchen. Now it echoed with my steps as I went onto the back porch.

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