“Nothin’ ‘essentially’ about it.”
“But, I live in Charlie’s house,” I whispered and held my breath.
He didn’t do what I thought he’d do or was conditioned to a man doing.
Instead, his face got even softer, his smile died and muttered, “Fuck.”
“Max –”
“You don’t want to let it go,” he surmised astutely.
“It’s all I have left of him.”
Max’s eyes held mine for a long time.
Then he sighed heavily, gave my neck a squeeze and declared, “We’ll work somethin’ out.”
This surprised me so much I didn’t process what he was saying.
“I’m sorry?”
“We’ll work somethin’ out.”
“What will we work out?”
“I don’t know, somethin’.”
“Max –”
He brought me even closer and he said in a voice that was strangely fierce and vibrating, “Listen to me, Duchess, you got somethin’ good, you got somethin’ solid, you find a way to work shit out. Your brother’s place means somethin’ to you then we’ll work somethin’ out.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed which was what, I suspected, if the moment was verbalized, any woman would breathe when she figured out she was falling in love with a Colorado Mountain Man she barely knew but that knowledge hit her with the certainty a freight train.
“What?” Max asked.
“Nothing,” I said quickly to cover.
He examined my face for a moment and he did this with an intensity that made me feel more than a little exposed before he said softly, “Crack.”
“Sorry?”
He smiled, looking satisfied, and finished, “In your shield.”
Yes, I was right. Exposed but more than a little.
Before I could say a word, he brought me to him, touched his mouth to mine and then, when he pulled away, he muttered, “We’ll talk tonight.”
Then he let me go, turned and got out of the Cherokee.
I followed but I did it a lot slower, mostly because my legs were shaking.
I rounded the hood and looked up at the extravagant house. A woman in a wheelchair was sitting waiting for us just outside the front door. She was watching me as I got close to Max; he took my hand and led us up the steps.
I was a little surprised by her. She had shining, heavy hair that wasn’t light brown but wasn’t dark either and had what appeared to be natural and appealing auburn highlights. She was dressed fashionably in a lovely, soft yellow sweater, jeans and boots, all, I noticed with a practiced eye, superb quality. She didn’t look like she lived in that chair. Instead she looked like she’d just sat down in it to take a load off. As we got close I saw she had a hint of a healthy, becoming tan and she was smiling at Max and me. Her smile was small but it was also genuine and friendly.
“Nina,” she said, “’spect you know I’ve heard a lot about you,” she finished and lifted her hand toward me when Max and I made it to within a few feet of her chair.
“Yes, I figured that,” I smiled back. “And you’re Bitsy,” I greeted, taking her hand.