I recall, your kitchen makes the best beef stew in Colorado.”
She couldn’t help but grin. “It’s still our signature dish.”
Ruthie seemed pleased to be serving her specialty to Lauren, who’d become a surrogate daughter to the spritely old woman, but she had an unmistakable air of unhappiness feeding Max.
They sat down to a bowl of stew with thick, smoky gravy, tender meat, firm potatoes, and colorful carrots. Ruthie made her specialty lemonade recipe that she’d brought all the way from Jamaica. It was pink with a hint of mint. She was courteous and humble, but it was hard to miss her scowl.
“She doesn’t like me,” Max said as soon as Ruthie returned to the kitchen.
“No.” She shook her head. “That’s not true.”
“It is, and I don’t blame her, not really, considering what happened between our fathers.” After a moment of silent reflection, he went on, “I’m not my father, Lauren, I want you to know that.”
“I do. It was never about us.”
“No, it wasn’t, and it shouldn’t be. We were too young to fight against them—to fight for us.” He seemed to give it some thought before adding, “We’re no longer the kids we used to be.”
“That’s true. All the innocence of those days is lost.”
“Not all is lost.”
“It’s too bad it happened.”
“You’re right. My father is hard-headed and doesn’t take things lightly, especially if it threatens his family or his empire.”
“He has an expansive empire,” she said. “All those commercial properties. You should be proud.”
“I wish I could be.” After a moment, he added, “I mean, I am proud of what he’s accomplished, but not of the way he did it. It’s hard to take pride in that.”
She nodded.
Max went on, “My father’s ways are old school. In his head, and his heart, he’s still slugging it out on the streets of South Boston. He’ll never stop being a fighter.”
She tried not to smile, but she couldn’t quite help herself. “And what are you—a lover?”
His cheeks flushed. “I think there are better ways of doing things, yes. And now, three things abide; hope, faith, and love. And of these, the greatest is love.”
One brow rose on Lauren’s forehead. “A Bible-centered man?” She hadn’t spent any substantial time with him in ages. Could he have changed so much?
He shrugged. “Not really. Not that much into the Bible to tell you the truth, but I read it to my grandmother. Maybe some of it rubbed off. I figure it’s good for her—at least inspirational. I know she’s just hearing my voice, if even that, but it was the Bible or Harry Potter.” They shared a little chuckle. “To tell you the truth, I prefer the romantics.”
Her brow furrowed in question. “The rock band?”
“No, the poets; John Keats, Lord Byron.”
“Oh, right.” Lauren gently fisted her forehead. “How stupid of me. Of course, it’s not the rock band.”
Another laugh seemed to draw them closer together.
“A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” He recited from memory. “Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.”
A chilling silence followed, Max cracking a wry smile as if he didn’t even comprehend his own seductive powers. “I suppose a person has to focus on something or someone. As for me ... I like poetry.”
She wasn’t sure how to react as a hot bolt pulsed through her body. She sat there, trying to ignore their past and the misery which had separated them. Their youthful infatuation had made their tale resemble an Ancient Greek tragedy. Those feelings were hard to ignore while impassioned eyes stared right into her, finding the hidden secrets of her soul.
Max was the one man who could bring light to her shadowy world, but that prospect frightened her even more than the complications of her future, which were already beyond her ability to imagine, much less manage.
Next to her father, Max was the only other man she’d loved.
Chapter Seven
Max
Max wanted to fight off the memories that came flooding back to him, but they arrived with such clarity; it was hard to win that battle. He’d harbored a crush on her since their earliest years when their fathers were still good friends and occasional business partners. Their friendship had been fabulous, their falling out a fiasco, and its biggest impact was on what would have been one of the greatest romances in all of human history.
That was what Max had always imagined, and he’d grown up knowing that imagination was all he’d ever have of their love, their lives together, the family they would