My head shook once, it was quick and it was short, then I repeated, “Why not?”
“Yeah, why not? I would. Anyway, you’re a lawyer, might be good to have you look ‘em over,” he stated before he took a drink of his beer.
“Are you thinking of taking the job?” I asked, again surprised.
“No f**kin’ way,” he answered instantly.
“Then why do you need a lawyer to look at them?”
“Just wanna know which way they’re thinkin’ of screwin’ me.”
“Kami said they sweetened the pot.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they did. Don’t mean there ain’t fine print.”
I went back to scooping potatoes. “It doesn’t sound like these are nice people.”
“They aren’t.”
“Then why would your sister want you to work for them?”
“I’m around more often, means she’ll have help lookin’ after Mom.”
I finished putting the potatoes on top; Max noticed and took the bowl from me, turned and headed toward the sink.
“Is your Mom all right?”
“Yeah,” he said, rinsing the bowl and skillet. “Just alone and doesn’t like it.” He turned off the tap and headed back to me. “Today, took care of Mindy’s shit, talked to Bitsy, hit the Station and then went to visit Mom. That’s why I’m late. She wanted to talk and then she wanted me to look at her kitchen sink. Spent part of the afternoon listenin’ to her bitch, another part in the hardware store, another part on my back on the kitchen floor under her sink.”
I looked down to the potatoes, smushing them around and coating the creamy fish, thinking of him taking care of Mindy, Bitsy, his Mom and what that meant about him then mumbling, “It’s good you look after your Mom.”
“It’s good, but isn’t fun.”
I looked at him and said softly, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said softly back then his hand came up and his finger touched my earring. I’d put my new ones in when I put away my shopping, impatient to see the way they looked then I liked the way they looked so I left them in.
“You got ‘em.”
“Yeah.”
He grinned then walked around me.
I grabbed the dish and put it in the pre-heated oven, closed the door, tinkered with the timer and set it. He came back when I went to the other counter, picked up my wine and took a sip.
After I swallowed, Max took my glass, set it on the counter and grabbed my right hand.
His head was bent to look at our hands but he was talking.
I was watching his hands working at mine.
“Went to Karma to get you those earrings you liked, they told me you’d already been by. Jenna was there, local jewelry artist that makes this stuff.” I held my breath as I watched him slide something on my ring finger then he twirled it around and slid it off. “She said she had rings to match, doesn’t make many of them, usually only does it special so she doesn’t sell them in the shop. She ran home to get one and brought it by Mom’s.” He slid the ring on my middle finger and twirled it around then his fingers curved around my palm, his thumb touching the ring as he muttered, “Fits there.”
I looked down at a ring that was the same heavy, wide, stunning web design of my earrings with solid edges. It was gorgeous and it sat perfectly, from base nearly to knuckle, on my finger.
Then I continued to stare at it and all it indicated including the fact that Holden Maxwell paid attention (which I was learning) and thus he gave thoughtful, generous gifts.
I felt tears sting the backs of my eyes and I tipped my head back to look at him.