She looked at him. “Really?”
He gestured with his chin and turned to the front door, where her mom and her three half sisters waited with welcoming smiles on their faces, waving. They were all still in their PJ’s, keeping them inside, but at their clear joy at seeing her she felt a lump in her throat.
“It’s Christmas,” her stepdad said quietly. “And you’re actually here. Merry Christmas, Rory. Welcome home. We’ll wait inside for you.” And then with one look at Max standing strong and tall at her side, he turned and headed back to the house.
Max pulled her into him. “Knew you could handle this.”
“How?” she asked in marvel. “I mean, I’ve been with me for twenty--three years and I still don’t get me.”
He let out a low laugh and pressed his forehead to hers. “I was a little slow on the uptake, but I’ve got you now and I don’t plan for that to change.”
Her breath caught. That sounded a whole lot like her greatest fantasy come true.
“There’s one more thing.” He nudged her face up. “I love you, Rory. I think I always have.”
Emotion flooded her and her knees wobbled. “I need to sit.”
Max urged her back a few steps to his still open truck. When she was once again in the passenger seat, he crouched in front of her. “Still with me?”
Her heart had started to pound. She’d never thought to hear the L--word from anyone, much less him, but there it was, out in the open. She should have known it would be like that with him. Honest. Straightforward. She looked into his eyes and nodded. “Still here.”
“Did you just nearly pass out when I told you my feelings?” he asked.
“No. I nearly passed out when I realized something.”
“What?”
“That I think feel the same way,” she whispered like this was a state secret, loving the way it made him smile all the way to his eyes, allowing her to access a well of courage she hadn’t known she’d had. She slid her fingers into his hair, which she now knew would make him purr like a cat, a big, wild cat. “I love you, Max.” She paused and then let out a small smile as she repeated his vow. “I think I always have.”
His low laugh warmed to her to the far corners of her heart and he pulled her in for a tight squeeze. “I’ll be back for you. You going to be okay?”
She realized she’d been holding her breath again, for what she had no idea. For him to change his mind? Laugh? Take it all back? “So . . . that’s it?” she asked. “You love me, I love you, the end?”
“For now,” he said.
“And later?”
He lifted a shoulder. “We can talk about our next step.”
“Which would be . . . ?” she asked.
He kissed the tension away and then pulled back far enough to say, “Whatever you want.”
“What about what you want?” she asked, breathless. She was pretty sure he kissed her just to leave her in a state.
He stroked the hair from her face. “I want it all.”
Oh. Well, that sounded . . . promising. And exciting. She was so happy she yanked him in and kissed him until both of them were breathless. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered against his lips. “I’ll give you your real present later.”
He smiled sexily. “Sounds promising.”
She smiled back. “It is.”
Read on for a look at the other fun and sexy Heartbreaker Bay novels
SWEET LITTLE LIES
THE TROUBLE WITH MISTLETOE
Available now from Avon Books!
And an exclusive sneak peek of
ACCIDENTALLY ON PURPOSE
Coming January 2017!
Preorder it today!
Sweet Little Lies
Chapter 1
#KeepCalmAndRideAUnicorn
PRU HARRIS’S MOM had taught her to make wishes on pink cars, falling leaves, and brass lamps, because wishing on something as ordinary as stars or wishing wells was a sign of no imagination.
Clearly the woman standing not three feet away in the light mist, searching her purse for change to toss into the courtyard fountain hadn’t been raised by a hippie mom as Pru had been.
Not that it mattered, since her mom had been wrong. Wishes, along with things like winning the lotto or finding a unicorn, never happened in real life.
The woman, shielding her eyes from the light rain with one hand, holding a coin in her other, sent Pru a wry grimace. “I know it’s silly, but it’s a hit--rock--bottom thing.”
Something Pru understood all too well. She set a wriggly Thor down and shook her arms to try and bring back some circulation. Twenty--five pounds of wet, tubby, afraid--of--his--own--shadow mutt had felt like seventy--five by the end of their thirty--minute walk home from work.
Thor objected to being on the wet ground with a sharp bark. Thor didn’t like rain.
Or walking.
But he loved Pru more than life itself so he stuck close, his tail wagging slowly as he watched her face to determine what mood they were in.
The woman blinked and stared down at Thor. “Oh,” she said, surprised. “I thought it was a really fat cat.”