My step faltered at what I saw burning there and Max’s hand tightened in mine, his arm twisting, he brought me up close as he tucked our hands against the side of his chest. He kept me moving but my head turned as we walked, my eyes held by Brody’s, tears pricking the backs of mine.
Brody nodded to me when Max and I hit the stairs. I nodded back and sucked in another unsteady breath when I watched one lone tear fall from his tough-guy, mountain-man eye.
He turned his head away and Max winded us down the stairs.
* * * * *
Mom and Steve had gone into town to go grocery shopping which was needed even after my huge shop a week ago considering Max had been hosting half the town for coffee, breakfast and dinner for a week. Cotton had gone with them to show them the way, not that it would be hard to find but it was a nice thing to do.
The doctor had also left and Mindy, Brody and their family were upstairs, murmuring to each other.
Max had taken a shower then gone outside to return the ATVs to the barn and I was cleaning to take my mind off everything. I’d dusted all Max’s furniture in the living room and was sweeping his wood floors, my hand still around the dust rag should I find something to polish while sweeping when Max walked into the room.
I barely glanced at him and didn’t stop sweeping when I did.
I heard his boots on the floor and had to stop when his arm hooked around my waist from behind.
“Max, I’m –” I started to protest, straightening.
“Stop cleaning, Duchess. When I’m home, got a woman, Caroline, comes up from town on Mondays, cleans the house,” he said quietly into my ear and I twisted my neck to look at him.
“No you don’t,” I declared with authority and his brows went up.
“Baby, I do.”
“No you don’t, I was here last Monday and no woman named Caroline came and cleaned the house.”
“You were delirious with fever last Monday and when you weren’t you were out. She came, cleaned around you, and left,” Max reminded me.
I’d forgotten that, not that I would remember Caroline but I forgot I was sick.
I was such an idiot.
“Oh,” I said softly.
“You clean, she won’t have anything to do, she’s too proud to take the money anyway and she can’t afford to miss a week. She’s got two kids, an ass**le husband who drinks too much and not many clients. When I’m not in town, she cleans between renters too.”
“Oh,” I repeated softly.
He turned me to face him, took the broom from my hand and the dust rag from my other.
“You need somethin’ to do, darlin’, bake that cake mix you bought in Denver. Tonight, we can use a f**kin’ cake.”
“That’s a good idea,” I whispered.
I could use cake, any cake, always could but I could especially use a yellow cake with that store bought, thick, fudgy, chocolaty frosting. It was the lazy way of baking but they didn’t have many cake mixes and not near the variety of store bought frostings in England. I missed them.
He smiled, it was small not Max’s usual beautiful grin but it was something.
Then he lifted his free hand and cupped my jaw before dipping his face close to mine.
“Anyway, duchesses don’t clean,” he whispered.
“I’m not a duchess,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, you are.”
“No, Max, I’m not.”