“I should stay away from Vero Beach,” Max said. “If I showed up there, it might be awkward.”

“I don’t really care what Grant thinks,” she insisted. She wanted Max with her. “Come to Florida,” she urged.

“You’re letting this—” he gestured around him at the beach “—influence you. Us, together, all by ourselves. But as you’ve pointed out, your life’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“I know, but…”

“Besides, I can’t. I’m meeting my brother next week. I’d like to meet you there, but…it’s not a good idea. Not now. You have things to discuss with Grant, and I need to get back to California.”

“The only reason Grant decided to fly to Florida was to keep you away.”

“I don’t blame him,” Max said. “In his shoes, I’d do the same thing. He and I both understand that you have to make your own decision. So, take this time with him. Celebrate your son’s wedding, and when it’s over, I’ll be in touch.”

“What if—”

He didn’t allow her to finish, cutting her off with a deep, hungry kiss. “You can consider all the what-ifs later, but for now let’s just enjoy being together.”

By noon it was too warm to stay on the beach. They walked back to the house and sat out on the shaded deck. After searching through the refrigerator and cupboards, Bethanne found frozen lemonade mix and a pitcher. She prepared it, then poured them each a tall glass and added ice.

Rejoining Max, she brought out the drinks.

He sat with his head bent forward, brushing sand from his hair.

As Bethanne set the drinks on a small table, she noticed that he was badly in need of a haircut.

“You could use a trim,” she said.

“I know, but I’ve been chasing after this incredible woman and haven’t had time.”

“I used to cut Grant’s hair. I could cut yours.”

Max glanced up. “You cut your husband’s hair?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.”

Max’s eyes narrowed slightly. “From everything I’ve heard about Grant, he seems more like the type to pay for an expensive cut.”

“I’m sure he is now. In the early years we were short of cash and looked for ways to save money. I discovered I had a knack for cutting hair. He actually preferred me to do it because I knew exactly how he liked it.”

“You’re a woman of many talents.”

“So I’ve been told. I’m serious, Max, I’d be happy to give you a trim.”

“You have scissors?”

“Not with me but I found a pair in the kitchen that would work nicely.”

“Then, by all means, have at it.”

It’d been several years since she’d cut anyone’s hair but she was confident in her skills. While Max wetted down his hair in the laundry room sink, Bethanne got a towel from the hall cupboard. Then she dragged a kitchen stool onto the deck.

Max returned a few minutes later. She took one look at him, at his hesitancy, and smiled. “You don’t have a thing to worry about, so stop frowning.”

“I was just asking myself how well I really know you.”

“And how did you answer the question?” She patted the stool cushion, indicating he should sit.

“I decided I could trust you.”

“Good decision.”

She used the comb he supplied and started by cutting the small hairs that grew above the ears. Blowing the bits of hair away, she felt the tension leave his shoulders.

“I’m glad you’ve relaxed,” she said.

“Actually, I’ve been dreaming about you blowing in my ear.”

“I will as long as you whisper sweet nothings in mine.”

He laughed.

Bethanne chatted as she worked. The more she engaged him in conversation, the more at ease he became. Standing in front of him she examined her work and was pleased with the result so far. As she stepped back, he took her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed her palm. Goose bumps shivered up and down her arms.

Before she was completely sure how it’d happened, she was sitting on his lap and they were deeply involved in a series of kisses. The scissors and comb were forgotten on the deck floor as she twined her arms around his neck.

“We’d better stop,” he whispered.

“You’re right.”

“Personally, I’d rather find out where this will take us.”

She hid her face in the side of his neck. “We already know that.”

“Yes, and it’s becoming more appealing by the minute.” Then, as if drawing upon some inner reserve of strength, he gently pushed her away. “I never appreciated how sensuous it could be to have a woman cut my hair.”

It hadn’t been like this with Grant, she thought, even early in their marriage. She immediately felt guilty for making the comparison.

Resuming her work, she walked around to the back of his head and asked him to tuck in his chin while she clipped the hair at the base of his neck.

“How does it look?” Max asked once she’d finished.

“You’ll have to tell me.” She dug a small mirror out of her purse and handed it to him.

Max opened it and studied his reflection. He seemed surprised at what a good job she’d done. “Wow.”

“Is it okay?”

“It’s great.”

She began to leave to get a broom from the kitchen when he caught her fingers and pulled her close. “I’m going to miss you,” he whispered.

“I’ll miss you, too.” And she would, more than she dared admit.

Max was about to kiss her when the front door opened and a large man in Bermuda shorts walked in. His face instantly lit up in a huge grin. “Max!” he shouted, and started across the house toward the deck.

Max met him halfway and the two hugged and slapped each other on the back.

“Al, this is Bethanne. Bethanne, Al.”

Al nodded at her. “I came as soon as I got the message that you were at the house.”

Twenty-One

Al was a bear of a man, easily six-five or more. He engulfed Max in another hug and then turned to Bethanne.

“Hello,” she said, hardly knowing what to think. “I hope you don’t mind that we invaded your home.”

“Not at all.” He clasped her by the shoulders. “Now, let me take a good look at you.” He smiled down at her, then glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, Max, you got yourself a cutie.”

When he released her, Bethanne nearly stumbled backward.

“I hope you found everything you need,” Al said as he walked into the kitchen. He removed a beer from the fridge and motioned to Max with it, silently offering him one.

Max declined with a shake of his head.

Al pulled back the tab and took a deep swallow. He returned to the living room and sat down on the sofa.

“How’s Sherry?” Max asked.

“She’s doing great,” Al said.

Bethanne assumed the other woman must be Al’s wife but didn’t ask.

Obviously feeling the need to explain, Al looked over at her. “Sherry’s our daughter. Max picked her up hitchhiking three years ago—thank God—and managed to talk some sense into her. Our little girl got hooked on painkillers. We hardly knew her anymore. She stole her mother’s jewelry and hocked it for drug money and was on a downward spiral.”

“I’m glad to hear she’s better,” Bethanne whispered. This was every parent’s nightmare.

“She did a complete turnaround,” Al said. “If it wasn’t for Max picking her up that night I don’t know what would’ve happened to her. How he talked her into going to rehab I’ll never know. Her mother and I begged her over and over but she wouldn’t listen to us.”

“You did that?” Bethanne stared at Max.

“He does that sort of thing,” Al continued.

“Al,” Max said under his breath. “Enough.”

“I haven’t known him long,” Bethanne said, cutting Max off. “Tell me more.”

“I think we should head out.” Max stood and started for the door.

“We’ve got time,” Bethanne countered, winking at Al.

“You don’t know?” Al looked from Bethanne to Max and then back again.

“Bethanne, come on,” Max said through clenched teeth.

“I’d like to hear what Al has to say,” she told him. “Come back and sit down.” When Max hesitated, she added, “Please?”

Max claimed the chair he’d recently vacated, but he didn’t seem pleased about it.

“Max rides his motorcycle from one end of the country to the other, and along the way he helps people in need,” Al explained. “If he comes across someone in trouble, Max lends a hand. Sometimes it’s talking to them, like it was with our Sherry. Other times it’s getting them something to eat and a place to live. All he asks in return is that whoever he helps pays it forward.”

“He’s definitely one of the good guys,” Bethanne said. Now she understood what the mechanic in Wells, Nevada, had been talking about.

“I’m no saint,” Max grumbled.

“He doesn’t talk about it, either. As you might’ve noticed, he doesn’t like people knowing what a soft heart he has.”

“How’d you find out?” Bethanne asked. “Other than through Sherry, I mean.”

“Rooster.”

Max grunted in disapproval.

“Name’s a bit odd. His real name’s John Wayne Miller. John Wayne played a guy called Rooster in a movie called True Grit back in the sixties and apparently that’s how Rooster picked up the nickname.”

Bethanne nodded. “Yeah, I heard that.”

“I wish you two’d stop talking about me as if I wasn’t here,” Max complained.

Al continued to ignore Max. “Max stops by to see Susie and me every now and then.” He smiled at Max. “This is the first time he’s ever brought a lady friend.”

“Actually, Max helped me when our car broke down in Nevada.” She caught his eye. “I don’t recall you asking me to pay it forward.”

“Can we go yet?” Max asked pointedly.

“I was with my daughter and mother-in-law, and—”

“Ex-mother-in-law,” Max corrected.

“Yes, I’m divorced. Max and I just sort of hit it off.”

Al looked pleased as spiked punch. “I always wondered why he never had a woman in his life.”

“I prefer my own company,” Max said.

“Doesn’t look like it to me.” Al laughed. “You’ve found someone special, and you should be grateful. It’s not much of a life, racing from one coast to the other, especially if you’re alone.”

“I like my life the way it is.”

“Sure you do,” Al muttered sarcastically.

“I do,” Max said. He held his hand out to Bethanne; it was time to leave.

“No need to rush off. Susie’s on her way home and I know she’d love to see you.”

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