He persisted in pulling Maggie over to introduce her to each new person, and she began to relax and enjoy herself, grateful that he would think to include her in both his business and his personal conversations with people. She hadn’t expected it. Frankly, she was still trying to convince herself that she knew him, knew he was not the type to resort to sabotage. But was that true? May not be, but it didn’t seem to be on his agenda today. At least, not yet.
And the fact that he was being so generous and inclusive and kind to her made it all the more difficult to cling to her determination not to sleep with him.
Not that she would have sex with him simply because he’d given her a few good business contacts. No way. Her gratitude didn’t extend that far. But it was getting more and more difficult to ignore the fact that Connor MacLaren was simply a thoughtful, honorable man, a good person, just as he’d been when she knew him ten years ago. He hadn’t changed.
It was Maggie who had changed. Who would have guessed that when she and Connor broke up, she was simply trading one set of risks for another worse set? The result was that now, after ten years, she was more guarded, more tentative, more jumpy. All those years with Alan and his mother had not been good for her.
But those years were over. It was all in the past and she was moving forward, living in the present and planning for the future. She was doing okay.
The fact that she’d stepped out of her comfort zone, taken the risk and faced down Connor MacLaren in his own office a week ago was something to be proud of. And, she thought as she gazed around at the festival crowd, she was actually out having fun. It was such a dramatic change from the way she’d been three years ago that she wanted to jump up and give a little cheer. Go, Maggie, go!
She smiled to herself. Good thing nobody was monitoring her goofy thoughts.
“Maggie,” Connor said, interrupting her meanderings. “Come meet Bill Storm, one of the top-selling beer makers in the country.”
“Aw, hell, boy,” the older man drawled. “I’d be the very top if it wasn’t for y’all and your MacLaren’s Pride.”
Maggie smiled at the man, who had what was quite likely the world’s largest mustache and a personality to go with it.
She shook his hand. “Hello, Mr. Storm.”
“Call me Bill,” he said jovially. “Mr. Storm is my old man.”
“Thanks, Bill.”
“Now, Connor here tells me that some of the pale ales you’ve been producing might just be the hottest beers to hit the market in years.” Bill scratched his head in thought. “Don’t mind me being a little skeptical, but I can see with my own eyes what your actual appeal to him might be.”
Suddenly wary, she glanced at Connor, who merely smiled at his friend’s good-natured teasing. Maggie decided that the old guy meant no offense and turned back to Bill with her business card in her hand. “I’ll be glad to give you a personal tasting of my latest beers and ales tomorrow.”
“And I’ll be glad to take you up on that, Maggie.” He handed her his business card, too, and Maggie slipped it into the pocket of her tote bag. Then Bill drew Connor into a more personal conversation about a mutual competitor and after a minute, Maggie decided to wander around a bit.
She stopped at several booths to check out the competition and met so many friendly beer makers and brewpub operators that she was reminded of something her father had once told her. The beer-making community was famously close-knit and friendly and helpful toward one another. Yes, there was plenty of competition, but they generally cheered their rivals on and supported each other.