“That’s a weird thing to like.”
“Mom’s a bit nutty.”
“Not surprising,” he mumbled then he went on when my eyes started to narrow. “She turn into a hellion when she’s pissed too?”
I thought about this then I answered truthfully, “Yes, probably worse.”
“Steve her man?” Max asked and I nodded. “Poor Steve,” he muttered and I grinned.
His face changed, it was that soft I liked so much but there was something more, something much more and I felt the change somewhere deep, private and I held my breath for what was coming next.
He drew me even closer so our lower bodies were touching and he asked, “You okay?” I nodded but his arm gave me a squeeze. “Nina, I’m serious here, that was an intense f**kin’ scene. You okay?”
From nowhere I understood what else was in his face and when I understood it I realized why I didn’t recognize it. The only male who’d ever looked at me like that was Charlie and he was my brother so he was supposed to look at me like that in times like these.
It communicated a fierce sort of protection covered over with a tender mixture of worry and affection.
I couldn’t bear the hope it made me feel so I couldn’t witness it anymore. I dropped my head and fell forward so my forehead was resting on his chest and I curled my fingers on his bicep.
“I pretty much hate my Dad,” I whispered to his chest as his hand slid from my waist, up my back, to wrap around the back of my neck.
“Reason why, darlin’. I’m now gettin’ why you don’t talk about him.”
I nodded, my head moving on his chest then I admitted, “I hate it that you saw me that way, too.”
He gripped my neck and used it to pull me back.
When I looked at him, he asked, “Why?”
“It’s unattractive,” I answered, my voice soft and there was a tremor in it I couldn’t control which denoted a fear I didn’t want to admit but I still couldn’t hide. “And it isn’t nice.”
His hand at my neck gave me a squeeze, he put his coffee mug down and circled me with his other arm.
Then he ordered, “Put your arms around me, baby.”
I decided sharing time was over, so I suggested, “Max, we should make breakfast.”
He gave me a steely look that said clearly he wasn’t going to repeat his order so on a sigh I put my mug down too, pushed my hands under his arms and wrapped them around him.
“There was nothing unattractive about what I saw.”
“But I lost my temper,” I explained.
“You stuck up for yourself and then you stuck up for the memory of your brother. You didn’t take any shit, not even a little of it.” His face dipped close and he whispered, “That’s not unattractive, baby, that’s beautiful.”
My eyes filled with tears, my body melted into Max’s and the only thing I could think to say was, “Shut up, Max, you’re going to make me cry.”
He grinned a small grin, his head slightly slanted, he touched my lips in a light kiss then, regrettably, he pulled away.
“I had other plans for this mornin’, Duchess, and, much as it kills me to delay them a-fuckin’-gain, I want to take my time. We’ll have to save those for after we get Bitsy to the Station and then take her home.”
He might not have used a lot of words but all of them meant very frightening things since I had a pretty good idea what he meant by his “plans”. I couldn’t quite figure out what was most frightening so I picked what was safest.
“We?” I asked.
“We what?”
“We’re going to get Bitsy?”