Then he said in a low tone, “Not gonna ask twice, Duchess.”
God. Seriously. He was so annoying.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lyin’.”
My eyes narrowed, I yanked my hips away but his finger held fast and instead of tearing my loop, I settled and repeated, “I said, I’m fine.”
“Bullshit.”
I leaned in and hissed my lie, “All right, Max, I’m going out for coffee and my Dad’s in town. I don’t want to run into him and have another scene, this time in public.”
His finger in my loop drew me closer as his face relaxed.
“Just stay at the Station,” he suggested. “I’ll ask Mick to get someone to bring you coffee.”
“Police coffee?” I asked, sounding horrified.
“Yeah, Duchess,” he returned, grinning. “You think your system could stomach that?”
“No,” I lied again.
His grin got bigger and he muttered, “Christ, you’re cute.”
I sucked in breath, feeling those three words pummel me like blows to the gut.
Then I reminded him, “Max, they’re waiting for you.”
“Stay here, you want coffee, we’ll get coffee with Bitsy after. She’d like that.”
“Max, as I said, twice, I’ll be fine.”
He shook his head and his finger in my loop brought me even closer, inappropriately closer for a public place, a closer that was almost, but not quite, as close as making-out-in-the-kitchen close.
“Now you explained it,” he said, “I don’t like the idea of you runnin’ into your Dad in town without me havin’ your back. So I want you to stay here. Yeah?”
I decided it was probably better to give in because Max wouldn’t let it go and I needed distance immediately. What I did not need were more indications of all the reasons he could easily be the love of any woman’s life.
I decided this but I also decided not to give in gracefully.
So I did it on the release of a heavy, annoyed breath. “Oh, all right.”
His grin came back, his finger left my loop but his hand lifted and curled around my neck, giving me a squeeze then he turned around and walked away.
Not five minutes later, a lady who introduced herself as Jane brought me coffee and when I took a sip it was just how I took it.
Yes. Max was so annoying.
*
We were on our way back up to the A-Frame.
It was after Bitsy’s police interview; after Max took us to lunch, again at that little caf?? by the river but this time it was warm enough for us to sit outside close to the rushing, snow-melt swelled river; and, after lunch, we took Bitsy home where she insisted we stay for a thank you mug of her homemade lattes which she created in a fabulous kitchen that also had a load of extra counters that had been built so she could reach them and, incidentally, her lattes were delicious.
Bitsy had been quiet and reflective through lunch and twice I caught her eyes filling with tears while she studied the river, though she never allowed the tears to fall. Max and I kept quiet with her, me because I didn’t know what to say and I was deep in my own thoughts, Max because, I suspected, he was leaving her be. When she went home, she seemed to perk up but I guessed this was because she wanted to entice us not to leave and I didn’t blame her. Being alone with my thoughts in my current predicament was less than fun. Being alone with hers would be torture.
Now I was studying the beautiful landscape passing me by wondering, if the cosmos had shined down on me and given me Max free and clear, if I’d have ever gotten used to the beauty of it and thinking at the same time that Max thought that we’d be spending the afternoon further exploring our relationship.
I was also trying to form a plan on how I was going to avoid letting him do that and wondering, if he touched me and, God forbid, kissed me, even if I did form a plan, if I could manage to be successful in my endeavors.
“Duchess?” he called at the same time I felt his hand wrap, warm and strong, around mine.
“Yes?” I answered, looking from the side window to the front but not at him.
“What’s on your mind, honey?” His voice was soft and he’d pulled my hand to rest the back of it against his hard thigh.
I hadn’t felt his thigh until just then but of course it, too, was hard, inviting touch. I decided this was most irritating even though my brain registered the feel was totally amazing.
I also decided not to fight at that juncture and leave my hand in his while I somewhat lied, though I thought of it more as not telling the full truth, “Bitsy.”
His fingers gave me a squeeze as he said, “She’ll be okay.”
“She loved him.”
“Yeah.”
I bit my lip then pointed out the obvious because he more than anyone knew. “That means she won’t be okay.”
This was as good a time as any, in fact, better than most, for Max to share about his dead wife.
He didn’t.
He just repeated, “Yeah.”
Jerk!