A Turn in the Road Part 25

"Then this is it?" she asked, swallowing hard.

Max's eyes immediately sought hers. "No..." He shook his head, then looked away. "The truth is, I don't think I can give you up."

The tension left Bethanne and she threw her arms around him and smiled. Max smiled, too, then leaned over and kissed her. She set her hand on his shoulder and kissed him back. After a moment, they drew apart.

Max lay in the sand and closed his eyes. "I never expected to feel this kind of peace again."

"I know. I'm six years out of my marriage and I'm only beginning to feel content. Sometimes I'm amazed to realize I'm truly happy. At first, I didn't believe that was possible."

"Are you happy now?"

She closed her eyes, too, and felt the wind and the sun against her face, heard the excited sounds of children playing. Max was sprawled out at her side-a man she barely knew, yet was convinced she could love. "Yes," she whispered.

"I hardly ever tell anyone about Kate and never about Katherine."

She'd noticed more than once how infrequently he spoke of anything personal.

"Rooster was shocked that I told you."

Turning onto her side, she kissed him again and then lay back in the sand, nestling her head on his shoulder. "From New Orleans, we're only a day and a half from Vero Beach," she said. "That's where Ruth's cla.s.s reunion is taking place."

"How long do you plan to stay in Florida?"

"A week. We'll return the rental car at the Orlando airport and fly back to Seattle on June 19."

He grew quiet.

"I should tell you that Grant will be in Florida at the same time. He says it's for a Realtors' convention in Orlando, but I know that's only an excuse."

"Grant loves you."

"So he claims-but he said that to me every morning when he went to work and was actually sneaking off with Tiffany to some hotel room." She sighed, a little disturbed by the surge of bitterness she felt. "The thing is, I don't know if I can ever trust him again...or if it's even possible to go back."

Grant had surprised her, giving Bethanne these days with Max. Andrew had left a message on her cell the night before, saying Grant had phoned and offered to help with the wedding. It seemed Grant was trying not only with her but with their children.

"I should stay away from Vero Beach," Max said. "If I showed up there, it might be awkward."

"I don't really care what Grant thinks," she insisted. She wanted Max with her. "Come to Florida," she urged.

"You're letting this-" he gestured around him at the beach "-influence you. Us, together, all by ourselves. But as you've pointed out, your life's a lot more complicated than that."

"I know, but..."

"Besides, I can't. I'm meeting my brother next week. I'd like to meet you there, but...it's not a good idea. Not now. You have things to discuss with Grant, and I need to get back to California."

"The only reason Grant decided to fly to Florida was to keep you away."

"I don't blame him," Max said. "In his shoes, I'd do the same thing. He and I both understand that you have to make your own decision. So, take this time with him. Celebrate your son's wedding, and when it's over, I'll be in touch."

"What if-"

He didn't allow her to finish, cutting her off with a deep, hungry kiss. "You can consider all the what-ifs later, but for now let's just enjoy being together."

By noon it was too warm to stay on the beach. They walked back to the house and sat out on the shaded deck. After searching through the refrigerator and cupboards, Bethanne found frozen lemonade mix and a pitcher. She prepared it, then poured them each a tall gla.s.s and added ice.

Rejoining Max, she brought out the drinks.

He sat with his head bent forward, brus.h.i.+ng sand from his hair.

As Bethanne set the drinks on a small table, she noticed that he was badly in need of a haircut.

"You could use a trim," she said.

"I know, but I've been chasing after this incredible woman and haven't had time."

"I used to cut Grant's hair. I could cut yours."

Max glanced up. "You cut your husband's hair?"

"Don't sound so shocked."

Max's eyes narrowed slightly. "From everything I've heard about Grant, he seems more like the type to pay for an expensive cut."

"I'm sure he is now. In the early years we were short of cash and looked for ways to save money. I discovered I had a knack for cutting hair. He actually preferred me to do it because I knew exactly how he liked it."

"You're a woman of many talents."

"So I've been told. I'm serious, Max, I'd be happy to give you a trim."

"You have scissors?"

"Not with me but I found a pair in the kitchen that would work nicely."

"Then, by all means, have at it."

It'd been several years since she'd cut anyone's hair but she was confident in her skills. While Max wetted down his hair in the laundry room sink, Bethanne got a towel from the hall cupboard. Then she dragged a kitchen stool onto the deck.

Max returned a few minutes later. She took one look at him, at his hesitancy, and smiled. "You don't have a thing to worry about, so stop frowning."

"I was just asking myself how well I really know you."

"And how did you answer the question?" She patted the stool cus.h.i.+on, indicating he should sit.

"I decided I could trust you."

"Good decision."

She used the comb he supplied and started by cutting the small hairs that grew above the ears. Blowing the bits of hair away, she felt the tension leave his shoulders.

"I'm glad you've relaxed," she said.

"Actually, I've been dreaming about you blowing in my ear."

"I will as long as you whisper sweet nothings in mine."

He laughed.

Bethanne chatted as she worked. The more she engaged him in conversation, the more at ease he became. Standing in front of him she examined her work and was pleased with the result so far. As she stepped back, he took her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed her palm. Goose b.u.mps s.h.i.+vered up and down her arms.

Before she was completely sure how it'd happened, she was sitting on his lap and they were deeply involved in a series of kisses. The scissors and comb were forgotten on the deck floor as she twined her arms around his neck.

"We'd better stop," he whispered.

"You're right."

"Personally, I'd rather find out where this will take us."

She hid her face in the side of his neck. "We already know that."

"Yes, and it's becoming more appealing by the minute." Then, as if drawing upon some inner reserve of strength, he gently pushed her away. "I never appreciated how sensuous it could be to have a woman cut my hair."

It hadn't been like this with Grant, she thought, even early in their marriage. She immediately felt guilty for making the comparison.

Resuming her work, she walked around to the back of his head and asked him to tuck in his chin while she clipped the hair at the base of his neck.

"How does it look?" Max asked once she'd finished.

"You'll have to tell me." She dug a small mirror out of her purse and handed it to him.

Max opened it and studied his reflection. He seemed surprised at what a good job she'd done. "Wow."

"Is it okay?"

"It's great."

She began to leave to get a broom from the kitchen when he caught her fingers and pulled her close. "I'm going to miss you," he whispered.

"I'll miss you, too." And she would, more than she dared admit.

Max was about to kiss her when the front door opened and a large man in Bermuda shorts walked in. His face instantly lit up in a huge grin. "Max!" he shouted, and started across the house toward the deck.

Max met him halfway and the two hugged and slapped each other on the back.

"Al, this is Bethanne. Bethanne, Al."

Al nodded at her. "I came as soon as I got the message that you were at the house."

Twenty-One.

Al was a bear of a man, easily six-five or more. He engulfed Max in another hug and then turned to Bethanne.

"h.e.l.lo," she said, hardly knowing what to think. "I hope you don't mind that we invaded your home."

"Not at all." He clasped her by the shoulders. "Now, let me take a good look at you." He smiled down at her, then glanced over his shoulder. "Hey, Max, you got yourself a cutie."

When he released her, Bethanne nearly stumbled backward.

"I hope you found everything you need," Al said as he walked into the kitchen. He removed a beer from the fridge and motioned to Max with it, silently offering him one.

Max declined with a shake of his head.

Al pulled back the tab and took a deep swallow. He returned to the living room and sat down on the sofa.

"How's Sherry?" Max asked.

"She's doing great," Al said.

Bethanne a.s.sumed the other woman must be Al's wife but didn't ask.

Obviously feeling the need to explain, Al looked over at her. "Sherry's our daughter. Max picked her up hitchhiking three years ago-thank G.o.d-and managed to talk some sense into her. Our little girl got hooked on painkillers. We hardly knew her anymore. She stole her mother's jewelry and hocked it for drug money and was on a downward spiral."

"I'm glad to hear she's better," Bethanne whispered. This was every parent's nightmare.

"She did a complete turnaround," Al said. "If it wasn't for Max picking her up that night I don't know what would've happened to her. How he talked her into going to rehab I'll never know. Her mother and I begged her over and over but she wouldn't listen to us."

"You did that?" Bethanne stared at Max.

"He does that sort of thing," Al continued.

"Al," Max said under his breath. "Enough."

"I haven't known him long," Bethanne said, cutting Max off. "Tell me more."

"I think we should head out." Max stood and started for the door.

"We've got time," Bethanne countered, winking at Al.

"You don't know?" Al looked from Bethanne to Max and then back again.

"Bethanne, come on," Max said through clenched teeth.

"I'd like to hear what Al has to say," she told him. "Come back and sit down." When Max hesitated, she added, "Please?"