Chapter Thirteen
Amanda looked down at her sports watch. She had an hour before Greg got home. She’d hardly exercised since moving to Manning Grove. A little yoga here and there, but mostly all she had been doing was sitting around the house like a lump, eating all food that she considered “practice.” That was…when she wasn’t spending time at the vet’s.
As she ran past the local elementary school, she spotted ruddy-faced children playing in the schoolyard, all bundled up in their winter coats. A few of them waved as she jogged past. Amanda faintly lifted a hand.
It was cold enough her breath looked like the smoke coming from a train. She was breathing hard from lack of exercise; just running up a slight incline had her groaning with the effort. She vowed to herself to get back on a regular workout regimen. Yoga three times a week. Running another three. Maybe it would relieve some of the stress of—
A truck rolled up next to her and slowed down to her pace. Amanda turned her head as she heard the hum of a power window opening.
Ugh. Wasn’t it just over a week ago they had agreed to avoid each other?
Max called through the cab, “What are you doing?”
“Do I really need to answer that?” She turned back to watch her footing. “Go away. I’m busy.” Weird—how he had known where to find her? Or had he? Maybe it was just a coincidence.
“Get in.”
Amanda pressed her lips together and dodged a drainage grate. She picked up her pace. At the end of the schoolyard she saw an opening in the fence and a patch of woods.
“C’mon, get in.”
Amanda made a sudden dash in front of his truck, making him slam on the brakes. Then she took off at a sprint and found just what she was looking for. A little trail through those woods.
She jogged carefully over the rough dirt path until she came out of the trees onto another street. And there was the truck. Parked along the curb.
Max was leaning against it, arms crossed.
“Are you kidding me?”
“What was that about? I could have hit you,” Max complained.
Amanda stopped in front of him and put her hands on her hips. Her attempt at looking angry failed as she was forced to bend forward to catch her breath.
“You just like to challenge me, don’t you?”
“You know it,” she answered, taking a deep breath. She paced in a circle to cool down and prevent a cramp. “I live to challenge you.”
He tilted his head toward the vehicle. “C’mon, get in the truck. I want to take you somewhere.”
Amanda glanced at her watch again. “Greg’s going to be home soon, and I’m not done jogging.”
“I’ll help you with some cardio later.”
Amanda rolled her eyes.
“And Greg is fine; my parents are going to pick him up for the evening.”
She stopped her pacing. “What?”
He had made arrangements for her brother without asking her first? So it wasn’t coincidence. He had known she was jogging. She wondered if he had a hotline to Mrs. Busybody.
“They were dying to have him over again. They really enjoy spending time with him. And I wanted some time alone with you.”
“Oh, what about what I want?”
“I’ll take care of that too.”
This time Amanda rolled her eyes and shook her head. He was so full of himself, thinking he was so irresistible. That she would just comply with any of his wishes. Hell, demands.
“What’s in this for me?”
“You’ll see. Come on.” He went around to the passenger side and opened the door for her.
She hesitated before moving around to the side of the truck. “You’re like a stalker.”
“I am not.”
“Right.” She climbed in. She hoped she wasn’t making a mistake. “Just don’t lock the doors in case I have to jump. I don’t care if you are a cop. Sometimes they are the wackiest. And I thought we sort of agreed to avoid each other.”
Max laughed. He slammed the passenger door shut.
“I didn’t agree to that. But we did avoid each other. It’s been a few days.”
A few days. A few days were like a blink of an eye. Well, maybe not around here it wasn’t.
Within minutes, Max pulled the truck into the driveway of a modern cedar A-frame on the outskirts of town. Amanda sucked in a breath as they got closer. The only word that could come to mind was…breathtaking. The sun hit the reddish-gold color of the logs, illuminating the home nestled in a forest of pines. It reminded her of a resort in one of those travel magazines, but on a much smaller scale.
“Whose is this?”
“You’ll see.”
He parked the truck and helped her out. The house was surrounded by huge old pine trees, some still covered from the last snow, and was completely encircled by a deck. Large windows ran up both sides of a stone chimney.
Max dug deep into his jeans to pull out a set of keys.
“This is yours.”
Even though it was more of a statement than a question, he still answered her. “Yep.” After unlocking it, he pushed the front door open. “Marc lives with me for now. But if he doesn’t start cleaning up after himself, he’s going to find himself outside looking in.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said as she went in and looked around. “But what are we doing here? Or should I say, what am I doing here?”
“I’m going to make you dinner.”
“Sounds…yummy, I guess.” She plucked at her T-shirt. “But I’m sweaty and smelly.”
“You can use my shower.”
He grabbed her hand and guided her through the house to the master bedroom, not even giving her a chance to snoop around before gently pushing her into the unmistakably masculine en suite bathroom.
“There are towels in the closet. I don’t use shampoo—I don’t have enough hair to—so you’ll just have to make do without. I’ll grab you something clean to wear.” He turned to go, leaving Amanda standing in the center of the bathroom.
“She didn’t leave a bottle?”
He paused, a puzzled look on his face. “Who?”
“Your old girlfriend.”
“I’ve never invited— Never mind, just take a shower.”
Amanda shut the door. Once out of sight, she smiled to herself. So far, there were no signs of former feminine presence. She considered that a good sign. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was a sign that no female in their right mind wanted to deal with his controlling ass.
She stripped off her soggy jogging clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. She started the shower, waiting until the water was good and hot before stepping in.
The hard, humid spray felt good, soothing her tired muscles. She sighed as she turned and turned once more, letting the water calm her nerves from being in Max’s shower. In Max’s bathroom. In Max’s house.
She really never thought about where he lived or in what style he lived. The only thing she knew was that he didn’t live with his parents. She had just assumed he lived in an apartment somewhere. But this was a surprise; she never even imagined anything like this.
She shouldn’t be surprised though. She knew Max was a determined, hard-working man. If he wanted something, he went after it until he got it.
Her spidey sense tingled. If he wanted something, he went after it until he got it.
She barely heard the rap on the bathroom door before it opened and Max let himself in. Her heart flipped suddenly, her pulse started pounding when she heard him over the shower.
“Phew, it’s steamy in here. Do you need help scrubbing your back?”
His blurred figure was barely visible through the opaque shower door—the only barrier between him and her naked body. “I can manage.”
“I can reach all those places you can’t.”
Amanda stilled under the hot stinging spray. Her teeth tugged at her lower lip.
“’Manda?”
His deep voice just saying her name like a caress made her toes curl in the swirl of the water. The bar of soap slipped from her fingers. It clunked loudly against the shower floor.
“Amanda, are you okay?” Max opened the stall door and stopped midmotion. “You are definitely okay. Hell.”
Thin rivers of water streamed down her body, making her aware of every inch of skin that he could see. She raised her eyes from the fallen soap to look at the man who was staring at her like she was every man’s fantasy. He could do that. He could make her feel so wanted…so desired. And at that moment, she only wanted to be one man’s fantasy.
She let out a shaky breath.
“Are you coming out or am I coming in?” His grin was crooked and strained as if he was struggling to control himself.
“Both.” She reached out to take a handful of his T-shirt and pulled him into the shower. The water quickly soaked his clothes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on tiptoes, leaning her bare body against him. “Kiss me.”
He bent his head and murmured against her lips, “I’m so glad these boots are waterproof,” and captured her lips with his.
He explored the deep recesses of her mouth while brushing his thumbs over her taut nipples, driving her completely out of her mind. The kiss broke as she gasped. He raised his head slightly. “You know, I’d love to fuck you in the shower, but it would take me a while to peel out of these wet jeans. So I have another idea.”
Max backed her up against the tile wall and dropped to his knees.
It wasn’t to pick up the soap.
He placed her hands on his shoulders and lifted her leg up until it also was balanced on his broad shoulder.
He had one hand against her belly, supporting her as he kissed the outer edge of her pussy lips, his tongue dipping inside, tasting her.
His other hand spread her apart, and he sucked at her clit until fire started deep within her belly. Her breasts felt large and heavy, her nipples hard. She sucked in her stomach and tilted her pelvis, giving him better access. The warm water from the shower with the combination of his tongue made a groan escape her. She let her head drop back against the tile, and she closed her eyes. She didn’t want to see his dark head between her thighs; she wanted to feel him. She wanted to focus solely on the sensations he was causing with his fingers and his tongue. He stroked her, nipped her, sucked her. Fingers plucked at her clit, slid into to her and curved.
He touched that spot and stroked it. Again and again. It made both her jaw and pussy clench against the bizarre but deeply arousing sensation. He strummed her like a guitar, tuning her up. She bit her bottom lip and cried out. Her back arched uncontrollably. He wouldn’t stop. His lips on her clit, his fingers searching, stroking. She wanted to scream at him to stop, that it was unbearable. She couldn’t take any more.
The orgasm started at her toes, curling them, as the shock waves ran up her legs, into her pussy, exploding. She cried out again. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she tried to avoid collapsing. But he drew away and stood, giving her a brush of his lips before taking her into his arms.
She tensed for a second, then relaxed into him and whispered, “Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
Her body vibrated with his deep chuckle.
* * * *
As Max puttered around his kitchen making dinner, Amanda took the time to explore his home. Dressed in one of his old T-shirts and an even older pair of boxer shorts, she made short work of inspecting every room.
The house was beautiful. Amanda guessed it to be about five years old. The furniture was minimal and rustic, fitting in nicely with the hewed-log walls. A few pictures of his family were sprinkled around the living room, but curiously, not one of them included a woman besides his mother. His bed—which looked handmade—was huge and inviting; she thought about how they could make use of it later.
She also discovered Marc’s room—it was one of only three rooms on the second floor—and agreed with Max. Greg was actually neater, and from what she saw, Marc wasn’t hard to beat. She shut the door quickly before anything crawled out.
The showpiece of the house was the immense fireplace spanning from floor to ceiling in the two-story living room. Built from mountain stone, it was flanked by the large windows she had seen from outside. Amanda imagined herself lounging in front of a roaring fire on a frosty winter night, gazing through those tall windows at the fresh-fallen snow clinging to the huge old pine trees.
What was she thinking? Snow? She hated the cold.
Miami. Heat. White beaches. Warm water. Sexy bodies in skimpy bathing suits. Color. Culture.
That’s what she should be thinking about. Not snow. Did she really want to spend another winter here in this desolate town? A clatter from the kitchen broke into her thoughts.
This was never going to work. Max was a man from Manning Grove. Small-town cop. She was a woman from Miami. Big city…what? Big-city party girl? She didn’t have an answer. She just didn’t know anymore.
In Miami, she’d had no direction. She had just lived for the moment.
Now, she had the responsibility of her brother. She finally had a purpose. Maybe a path she had not or would not have chosen for herself, but a direction nonetheless.
A louder bang came from the kitchen. Then a muffled curse.
Leaving her thoughts behind, Amanda moved toward the kitchen area. “Need help?”
Max was leaning over the sink, intently shaking something. “No. Go away. I’ll call you when I’m ready.”
“Where do you want me to go? This house is like one big open room. And I’m definitely not going upstairs again; that should be marked off as hazardous.”
“Why don’t you take a walk outside around the deck? It goes all the way around the house. Dinner won’t be long now.”
“Okay. It better be worth the wait.” She grabbed his jacket by the front door and slipped into it. The sleeves were so long on her that she couldn’t even see her hands. Pulling the jacket tighter around her, she opened the nearby French doors and stepped outside to give him some peace. She plunked down in an Adirondack chair to wait.
Five minutes later, Max popped his head out the door. “It’s ready.”
Her stomach growled noisily in response.
The crinkles around his eyes were evident in the late afternoon sun. Amanda realized that those creases really stood out when he was pleased. Not to mention relaxed.
He stepped close and offered her a hand out of the chair. As she stood, he pulled her into his arms. He framed her face with his hands and placed a soft kiss across her nose. “We could skip dinner.”
“You worked too hard. Let’s go eat. I’m hungry.” Her empty belly complained again.
“Me too. Just not for food.” He took her hand, led her back into the house, and then helped her out of his jacket. She was surprised when she saw the rough-cut table. It was set beautifully with stoneware dinner plates; glowing candles illuminated the settings. A pair of oversize glasses of red wine twinkled in the candlelight.
Amanda was touched with the effort he’d taken. She was sure this was a rare occurrence—Max making a romantic dinner. He even pulled out a chair for her.
Amanda threw her napkin across her lap, then wondered why, since she was wearing old boxer shorts. She tossed it next to her plate instead. “What are we having?”
“Squirrel stew.”
“What?”
“Just kidding. I made a couple of venison steaks, baby red potatoes, and a salad.”
Amanda frowned. “What’s venison?”
Without meeting her glance, he said, “It’s like beef.”
He uncovered the dishes and served her, then himself. He lifted his glass of wine. “Let’s make a toast.”
Amanda followed suit by raising hers.
“To—”
Amanda started as the front door crashed open. Marc bounded in, dropping his patrol bag by the front door with a thump.
“Hey, Max! Why are all the lights off— Oh.” Marc stopped in his tracks. With a smirk, he took in the scene in front of him. “Sorry, I didn’t know that…” He shrugged helplessly. “Oops.”
Max put his untouched wineglass down with exaggerated care.
Amanda watched various emotions cross his face before he spoke. His words were drawn out very slowly. “I thought you were on second shift today.”
“I was. The chief sent me home early. Dunn wanted some OT.” Marc stepped up to the table and looked down at their plates. “Are those the steaks from my buck?”
“Buck?” Amanda didn’t think she’d heard right.
“Yes,” Max answered his brother.
“What’s a buck?” She shot a probing look toward Max, who abruptly found his wineglass very mesmerizing.
The explanation came from Marc instead. “A male deer.”
“Do you mean you were going to have me eat a deer? Like Bambi?” She looked at both men in disbelief. “Marc, did you shoot Bambi?”
“No, I shot Bambi’s dad.”
“Oh please, let’s not get into a debate about hunting. Now’s not the time.” Max stood up and grabbed his brother by the arm, steering him away from the table. He said through clenched teeth, “Get lost.”
Marc laughed before saying loudly, “I guess I’ll go take the ATV out for a ride.”
“Make it a long one.”
“How long?” Marc nudged his older brother. “You shouldn’t take too long—”
Max growled, “Marc.”
“Okay, okay. I’m out of here.” Marc gave Amanda a parting glance. “By the way, nice outfit. Your boxer shorts are gaping.”
With a sharp intake of breath, Amanda shifted the enormous tee over her lap. Max shoved Marc toward the door.
“All right! I’m going. Jeez.”
Max held out his hand.
Marc eyed it cautiously, facing his older brother from the entranceway. “What?”
“Your house key.”
“What!”
Max refrained from saying anything and just jiggled his hand.
“Hell.” Marc dug in his pocket, pulled a key off his key ring, and dropped it into Max’s palm. “How am I going to get back in?”
“I’ll unlock the door when it’s…safe.”
“So, what am I supposed to do—”
Max slammed the door shut and twisted the lock. He returned to the table and settled back into his chair. He gave Amanda a rueful smile. “Sorry. We won’t be disturbed again. At least for a while.”
“You didn’t have to kick him out. He lives here too.”
“Only due to my generosity, which I’m not feeling right now. So let’s eat.”
“I don’t know,” she said, eyeing the now lukewarm steak on her plate as if it was road kill. She had no problem eating meat. She loved meat. She could never be a vegetarian or a vegan, even though most of her friends back in Miami were. Not her, she loved a big, juicy burger. But deer? That poor four-legged, adorably sweet, big-eyed…
“Amanda, just try it. I promise you’ll love it.” He lifted his wineglass back up. “But first, let’s finish that toast.”
Amanda lifted her glass in response.
“To a truce.”
Yes, Amanda could agree with that. “Okay.” The glasses rang as they tapped their rims together.
He nodded at her to try the meal.
Amanda picked up her steak knife and tentatively dug in. Placing a small piece on her tongue, she chewed carefully, critically. Surprised how lean but tender the steak was, she had to admit that it was delicious. And she was starving.
Max watched her warily as she ate, but visibly relaxed when Amanda finished off the meal in record time. “Well?”
“It was okay.”
“Liar.”
“Okay, it was great. But I still don’t know if I’m comfortable knowing what I ate.”
“If you liked that, wait until you try deer bologna.”
“I’ll wait.”
Max chuckled. The low rumble sent a shot of warmth through her. Every time he laughed or smiled or just grinned, it surprised her. Normally he seemed so serious about everything. It was refreshing to see him lighten up.
He took a sip of wine before asking, “So how’s Chaos?”
She gave him a crooked smile. “I know you’ve been there to check on him. One of the vet techs told me you’ve stopped by a few times.”
“Have you taken Greg?”
Amanda shook her head. “I don’t want to upset him. I give him updates, and he’s looking forward to Chaos coming home.”
“I’m sure,” he murmured. “Do you have an idea when?”
She ran her finger around the rim of her wineglass. “No, I wish I did. Greg asks multiple times a day. He’s like a broken record.”
“Do you want me to pick him up when he’s released?”
Amanda regarded the man across from her. “Why would you want to do that?”
He reached across the table to cover her hand with his. “I just want to help.”
His thumb brushing back and forth over her knuckles distracted her. “I can handle it. I’ll pick him up when Greg’s at day care so Chaos is settled in before my brother gets home.”
“Well…if you need help…”
Max wanted her to need him. She could see it in his face. “Thanks. But we’ll be fine.”
It was nice of him to offer, but again, he was putting himself into the mix when this was something she could handle on her own. She needed to prove to herself that she could handle these responsibilities. Even though the accident a few days ago made it clear she still had a ways to go. But if she let Max constantly help her, she’d never move forward. She didn’t want to rely on anyone anymore.
Not even the cop across from her.
As she got to know him better, she really couldn’t imagine him in any other field. But then the apple usually didn’t fall far from the tree, and he was definitely following in his father’s footsteps. As were his brothers. Except for the settling-down part, that is.
“Did you become a cop right after the Marines?”
“Yeah. I enlisted while I was in my senior year. I helped my parents on the farm the summer right out of high school, then went to Parris Island for boot camp.” He grimaced. “It was the hardest thirteen weeks of my life.” His gaze got distant as if he was remembering what he’d had to go through.
“Did you ever want to quit?”
“Never.” He squeezed her fingers.
She couldn’t imagine this man would quit anything in his life.
“I didn’t go there to just quit. My father was a Marine. And I damn well was going to be one too. Plus I knew that was my brothers’ path as well. I had to set an example.”
He seemed the type of guy who wanted to lead by example. He’d probably make a good police chief one day.
“Were you deployed?”
He blinked. Maybe he was surprised that she was even interested. Or maybe he didn’t want to talk about it. “Yeah. I did a couple tours in Iraq.”
“Was it scary?”
“It certainly wasn’t a vacation. I did my four years and I was out. Unfortunately, my brother keeps going back. His leave at Christmas was way too short. He’s done his time, and I’m not sure why he doesn’t get out while he’s still alive.”
“The way your mom talks, she worries about him a lot.” When he gave her a curious look, she realized she’d almost blown it. “I mean she seemed to worry about him a lot when he was home at Christmas.”
“We all do. Being in the Middle East has changed him. I guess it changed Marc and me too, but not like it has changed Matt. He has a good job waiting for him. Not sure why he’s not taking advantage of it.”
Max cleared his throat and got back on track. “So when I got out of the Marines, I took a couple weeks off until the next municipal police academy class started in Harrisburg.”
“How long was that?”
He looked at her curiously. “This isn’t boring you?”
She shook her head.
“Twenty-four weeks. It was cake compared to Parris Island. I couldn’t believe the whining I heard from some of the cadets.”
“Is it something I could get through?”
Max released her hand and sat back. Mixed emotions crossed his face before he said, “The academy? Sure. You’d get through it. Do you want to become a police officer?”
“Oh, hell no. I’m just messing with you.” But she couldn’t miss the rush of air from his lungs as he relaxed.
Did he really feel like she could make it through the academy, or was he just being possessive and overprotective by not wanting her to become a cop?
Max pushed his chair back and stood. “C’mon. Help me clean up.”
Amanda rose and followed him into the spacious kitchen, carrying a load of dirty dishes. As she started rinsing them, Max went back and brought them their wineglasses. After topping them off first, of course.
She reached out a sudsy hand to accept hers and took a long sip. Then she returned her attention to her task, handing the rinsed dishes to Max to load into the dishwasher. When they were done, she washed her hands. She turned in place and Max was immediately there, handing her a towel.
“Thanks for dinner…and for earlier.” She gave him a tentative smile and took another long sip of her wine.
Max reached out, taking her glass from her. “Let’s get our thanks out of the way.” He lifted one of her hands and kissed the palm. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You’ll see.” He reached out, curving his hand behind her neck under her long wavy hair, pulling her closer. He leaned down so he could stroke her lips with the tip of his tongue, tasting the tart, fruity residue. “I think that the wine tastes better on you.”
“Let me try it,” she said, huskily. She studied his every move as he raised his glass to take a sip, leaving a trail of wine glistening over his lips. She stood on tiptoe, stretching her body against him, feeling his every male angle. Amanda covered his mouth with hers, licking and stroking. She pulled back slightly, their breath mingling. “Mmm. You’re right.”
He refilled their glasses once again before leading her across the living room into the master bedroom. The only light was the sun setting through the windows, giving the room a rosy hue.
He drew her to the bed, urging her to lie down. Max knelt on the mattress to slowly slip off the old T-shirt and the boxer shorts she was wearing, making sure his fingers, knuckles, and arms brushed her here…and there. When Amanda was naked, he sat back on his heels to study her.
Amanda brought up her arms, an ineffective shield. “Don’t.”
One eyebrow rose. “Why?”
“You’re still dressed. That’s unfair.”
“I can remedy that.” Max climbed off the bed and took his time baring his body for her, making sure she didn’t miss a thing. Not one hardened plane, rough angle, or smooth surface. When he was done, he stood proudly, fully aroused, a fact Amanda found hard to ignore. She bit her lip. He was finely chiseled and very, very hard to resist.
But she already knew that.
Max grabbed his wineglass from the nightstand and said, “Lay back. I want to enjoy some more wine.”
He tilted the glass over her navel and filled it to the brim. He caught the overflow with his lips, stroking the tender skin of her belly with his tongue. He then dipped a finger in her navel and drew the warm liquid over her body like finger paint. Every line Max created, he erased it with his tongue.
Amanda felt pinned in place, not wanting to move, as she watched him with narrowed eyes. She could barely stand the torture. But she resisted reaching for him, fought off demanding he fill her up. She wanted the torment to last a little longer. Just a little more…just to the edge.
Max was having a difficult time holding back, as was evident by his nostrils flaring as he fought for air. Amanda felt him trembling slightly as he attempted to restrain himself. His fingers explored her warm, wet spots while his tongue painted pictures over her heated skin. He nuzzled her breast with his cheek and turned his face just enough to pull her nipple into his mouth. He tugged gently with his teeth until she cried out.
Her panting and whimpers made him move quicker, more urgently until he couldn’t wait any longer. Until she couldn’t wait any longer.
He rose over her and drove himself home.
He gave her what she had wanted in the shower earlier. Not that she was complaining. He was skilled with his tongue, lips, and fingers. But there was nothing like the pressure of his body against her as he filled her emptiness with long strokes. She tilted her hips to take him deeper, matching his movements thrust after thrust.
She grabbed his ass, the tight muscles flexing under her fingers with every pump. Every brush of his pelvis against her clit made her cry out, made her pussy bloom with wanting more, wanting him deeper, if that was even possible.
She bucked harder against him.
“You’re so open. I can feel you pulsating around my cock,” he rasped. “You’re driving me mad.”
Me as well, she thought. She couldn’t get enough of him.
Normally, they were oil and water; tonight they were fluid together. Meshed.
He gently nipped the fleshy part of her breast, then soothed it with his tongue. Worked his magic over both breasts, nipping and licking, avoiding the hard nubs of her nipples. She wanted his mouth on them; she whimpered and wiggled against him, trying to get his mouth closer.
He propped himself up on his arms and looked at her. Really looked at her. She couldn’t pull her gaze away. His eyes were dark, unreadable. A shudder ran through her.
She couldn’t want this man any more than at this moment.
He finally relented and sucked a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue, plucking at it with his lips.
A jolt shot through her core, deep through her belly, and into her pussy.
She gasped as she felt the waves start. “I’m going to come.”
He grunted and picked up the pace even more. He gyrated against her, grinding into her swollen clit.
She went over the edge, releasing a low wail. His head dropped next to hers, his lips next to her ear, and he groaned, “Fuck.”
One last thrust and he stilled deep inside her, the base of his cock pulsating against her as he released.
“Damn,” both said simultaneously, then laughed at their similar response.
Damn was right.
He slid to her side and gathered her in his arms.
With the glow of the lowering sun and the afterglow of great sex, Amanda let out a long, contented sigh and stretched like a cat from fingertip to toe. She was full—from dinner and from Max. Her appetizer and her dessert.
Tonight was so different from the barn. They were like two different people. No anger. No frustration. They were relaxed and not arguing. It was weird. They were like oil and water, and Amanda was waiting for the other hunting boot to drop.
* * * *
Max opened the bathroom door to see Amanda practically hidden in his bed. He fought the urge to climb back in bed with her and bury himself deep in her once again. He wanted to make her mew and whimper as he had done earlier. But—
He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.
He carried her now dry running clothes in his arms. He dumped them at the foot of the bed.
“Your clothes are dry enough to put on now.”
Amanda ignored him, snuggling deeper with a sigh.
“Amanda.”
A muffled “what?” came from beneath the sheets.
“What do you mean, what? It’s getting late.”
Amanda pulled the sheet back and shifted herself up. She looked at the digital clock on the nightstand. “It’s only eight o’clock. Why don’t you just call your parents? I’m sure they won’t mind if Greg stayed overnight.”
“No.” There was no way he was calling his mother and telling her to keep Greg overnight. That was the last thing he needed. It was bad enough that Marc now had more fodder to torment him. That was unavoidable. But he did not need his mother knowing his personal business. And she certainly didn’t need to know that they were sleeping together. Which was what she’d assume if he asked them to keep Greg overnight.
Then she’d be asking questions. And pestering. About settling down. About marriage. About children. Max let out a mental groan. No, thanks.
“What do you mean no? No, you don’t want to burden your parents, or no, you don’t want me staying here overnight.”
Max realized that this might be a touchy subject. But there was no way to steer clear of it. No matter what he said, it was going to be misconstrued. Maybe he could just say nothing.
“We talked about this before.”
“So?”
“So? So my mother, that’s the so.”
As good as Amanda looked in his bed… It looked too right, too comfortable. Like she belonged there. His chest tightened. Max wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t ready for permanent. He wasn’t prepared for someone so young…no, not young, youthful. Youthful? Immature, naive, maybe. He scrubbed a hand over his short hair.
It might have been a mistake to bring her into his domain. To let her in. To let her in his home—his privacy, his personal space. Pain shot through his temple.
“I think you need to get dressed and we need to go pick up Greg.”
She rolled out of bed, snagged her clothes, and got dressed quickly. She flung open his bedroom door and took long strides out of the room.
“Seriously, you don’t want her picking out china patterns,” Max called after her, close on her heels. He came up short when he saw Marc standing in front of Amanda, his finger over his lips and a spare key swinging from his finger. Max forgot about the spare key. Damn.
“Marc, can you take me home?”
Marc’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. Quite possibly like the deer they had eaten earlier.
“No,” Max answered for him as he came up behind her. “I’ll take you home.”
“No. I don’t want to inconvenience you. Marc, will you take me home?”
Max gave his brother a dirty look, hoping that Marc would be smart enough not to get involved in the conflict between him and Amanda.
“Uh…”
“No. I will do it,” Max insisted, an edge to his voice.
Amanda glared at Max. “No, you won’t.” She turned toward Marc and gave him a pleading look. “Please?”
Marc glanced over her head to his brother. Max gave his head a slight shake.
“Uh, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
That’s his brother! He was getting the hint.
“I don’t care what you guys think is a good idea. Marc, you are taking me home. If you don’t, I’m going to walk.”
There was no way she was walking home. “You can’t—”
Marc pitched in. “It’s too far—”
“Amanda, it’s getting dark—”
“Watch me.” With a determined step she strode out the front door.
“Okay, okay! I’ll drive you home,” Marc called as he quickly followed behind her.
Max threw up his hands and sighed as he watched his brother hurry after Amanda. He stood in the doorway helplessly as they both got into Marc’s truck and left.
“Damn,” he whispered. His stubbornness had screwed things up royally. Once again.
He slammed the front door shut and leaned back against it, cursing himself.
Pushing himself off the door, Max began to pace back and forth. He had to make things right. He was mad that he couldn’t express himself the way he wanted to when he was with her. He didn’t know how to deal with it. He didn’t know if he could deal with it. But he didn’t want her to walk out of his life, either way.
He had to call her.
She had been out running earlier, so he knew she didn’t have her cell phone, plus Max wouldn’t want to have the conversation with her while she was still with Marc anyway. That would be inviting never-ending mocking from his brothers, both family and on the force.
So he dialed her house phone; he would just leave a message for now. As expected, the machine answered, but he hung up quickly. He had to think about what to say. He had to get it right the first time.
He dialed again. This time he let the machine get to the beep.
“’Manda. I’m sorry. I…” He hit the End button with a curse.
He dialed again. Beep. “Amanda, I know you’re angry.” Of course, she’s angry, you stupid ass. He cut the call off.
Beep. “Mandy, can you call me back? I need to talk to you.” He hung up again.
Fuck. He was such an ass.
* * * *
“We’ve got to stop at your parents’ house to pick up Greg,” Amanda said as they headed back toward town.
The surprised look that Marc gave her was his only answer.
They drove in uncomfortable silence to his parents. Amanda sat fuming in the truck while Marc ran in and got Greg. Amanda shifted over to the center of the bench seat to let her brother in.
Amanda couldn’t decide if she was more angry or hurt at Max’s remarks.
Marc made compulsory conversation with Greg on their way back to the Barber house. Once there, Greg slid out and ran to the porch, while Marc grabbed Amanda’s arm.
“Hold on.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what happened back there, but I know you are boiling mad.”
“That’s putting it mildly.”
“Yeah, well, I know my brother. He can be dumb sometimes. Hell, we all can. But I think he…feels something for you. I’ve never seen him act this way before. Never. I mean I’ve seen him date women and…well, you know. But he has never brought anyone back to his house. He has never invited anyone over to our parents’ before. I think he’s feeling scared…no, not scared…trapped? No!” Marc smacked the heel of his hand into his forehead. “I didn’t mean it like that. Can you get the drift on what I am trying to say?”
“And?”
“Well, I just wanted you to know.”
“So now I know. Thank you for the ride.”
Before she could shut the door, he said one more thing.
“Oh, and by the way, he’s right. You don’t want Ma getting wind of anything because she will be picking out china patterns. If you think Max is stubborn, you don’t know my mother.”
Amanda watched Marc drive away before she let Greg into the house with the spare key she had hidden under the mat when she had gone running. She was sure Max wouldn’t like that idea. The officer in him would think it unsafe. Predictable. The spot an intruder would first look.
Who cared what Max would think?
“Can I’s have a snack?” Greg asked her eagerly.
“Sure.”
She followed her brother into the kitchen and poured him a glass of milk. She made him sit at the table, then dug out a container of her homemade brownies. She snapped off the lid and plopped the container in front of Greg, who within a matter of seconds sported a milk mustache.
When she turned away, she noticed the answering machine blinking. The number four flashed at her like a beacon. Who would leave four messages? Neither Carlos nor her mother had the house number. She tapped the Caller ID button on the machine as it scrolled through the last four callers.
Bryson, M.
Bryson, M.
Bryson, M.
Bryson, M.
Amanda located the button she was looking for.
Delete.
Delete.
Delete.
Delete.
She turned back to Greg and sank into the chair across from him. “Can I have a brownie?” Or two?