“Mister, I’m a kid. I don’t drink coffee,” Joey said, climbing in a chair on the other side of his Gigi.
Glancing back at the boy, Max’s heart softened at the shadows under his eyes; it looked as if he didn’t sleep much last night. Nightmares? Danny would get them something fierce growing up. “Hot chocolate then?” He nodded to the cup near him. His habit of buying one for Danny and him and coffee for Jay and Jonathan had panned out after all today. “With marshmallows, too.”
“For me?”
“Of course, buddy.”
“Wow!” He giggled. “I can dip my jelly donut in hot chocolate and mallows.”
“Great idea.”
“You two are like peas in a pod,” Gigi said, handing out the drinks.
That sent a sliver of disquiet through Max. He liked kids, always had them hanging around with so many brothers: school kids, college kids, and friends who had kids. But Max never really had one who looked up to him, not like Joey was right now.
Max swallowed hard.
What would Joey’s mom have to say about that?
Chapter 9
Annabelle screeched to a halt in the kitchen, sliding in her blue socks a few inches more when she got to the cabinet. She yanked it open and lifted down four small plates, pearly white with the pretty pink roses dotting the edges.
“The good ones, Gigi said. For donuts? Nope, for the Max guy.”
Her heart thumped. “What in the world is he doing here?” She snorted. “It certainly isn’t to bring coffee and donuts. Ungodly hour,” she sputtered, blowing a strand of hair away from her lip.
Hair? She groaned. Annabelle cocked her head toward the stainless steel fridge. Blurred, but telling. Her wild red hair looked like an awful nest with twigs poking out in all directions. Leaning closer, she looked like a white face with a red blob on her head.
Twisting to the microwave reflection over the oven, she got a slightly better look. She squeaked as she jumped back. Mascara clumps made her lashes spiky, little specks of black dotted under her eyes, and a long streak ran from the corner of her right eye.
“Crud!”
Peering closer, she realized the loose rubber band she’d tied her hair up in last night had shifted and caused ninety percent of her hair to remain knotted and six inches taller, with spikes sticking out or drooping around her face.
“Seriously?” Her face warmed. Max had joked, but it was true. She looked like something the cat had dragged in.
Quickly, she scrubbed at the black streaks, rubbing and plucking slivers of mascara goo away. “Waterproof, but not sleep proof.”
As for her hair, she nabbed the loose knot and rubber band, shifting them back in place. “Slightly better.”
A sudden cold dread swept over her. “What am I doing?” Why did she care about how she looked around him? But she did. That stunning realization dropped like a heavy stone straight to her belly.
She hadn’t cared about the way she’d looked in two years. Jeans, plain serviceable shirts, and work boots suited her fine. Deep down she’d realized how it appeared to others. Maybe that was a good thing. Stay back. Don’t come near me. Woman in hiding.
And then came Max Whitfield.
Her body tingled at the thought of him, the way he looked at her, his smile, the memory of his beautiful bare chest, the teasing banter…
Annabelle O’Connor had done some pretty dumb things in her lifetime and she wasn’t going to add on any more, like being attracted to a practical stranger.
Meeting and marrying her husband in four short weeks was one too many rash decisions in her adulthood.
A piece of her heart ached. God, she missed him. Missed the guy who was supposed to be her partner for the rest of her life. Love and honor, until death do us part. Yep, that death thing, just didn’t think that would come so fast.
Why had he put saving someone else above his own safety? Above his own family?
He always did something unpredictable and edgy. Risk-taker. Daredevil. This time he’d gone too far.
He died a hero.
But his son had to go on without a dad.
The muted voices from just beyond the open French doors came to her now. Joey’s giggles followed.
Her heart clutched.
She could count the times on both hands over the last two years she’d heard him so joyful over a real situation, not on TV or a movie or a comic book involving superheroes.
“Super Max,” she whispered, disturbed that this man could slip into their lives and make an impact so easily.
Nope, not going there.
She marched out with the plates, grabbing the napkins at the last second, and faced the smiling trio.
“Perfect,” Gigi said, placing a hand on Max’s arm.
“Sounds like a plan.” He looked up then and caught Annabelle’s stare. “Looks like I’m your chauffeur this morning.”
“My truck…”
“Is in the shop. No worries. I’ll get you there after Gigi’s interview at King’s.” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to refuse.
Chivalry again.
With a heaping dose of kindness to top it off. Right where it matters to me. My family.
“Sir Galahad?” She forced a smile, attempting to cover up the fierce yearning inside of her from showing on her face. Stay in control. “My football,” she mouthed. “Signed. Remember?”
“My jacket. Cleaned,” he mouthed back.
“So you play dirty,” she said under her breath as she made it to the table on shaky legs.
“Me?” He chuckled. “Just a guy helping out.”
“You have a complex or issue or something.”
“Nope, just a donut fixation right now.”
But the way he looked at her, capturing her stare, made her question not only him, but herself.
Don’t care. Don’t feel. Don’t trust! You’ll only get hurt, O’Connor. Again!
***
“Yo, Benny,” Max greeted the doorman at King’s.
“Max, my friend. How did the opening go?”
He winced slightly. “Lots of people showed up. Lots of buzz.” And one splashed redhead who he couldn’t resist nor leave alone. “This is Gigi. Gigi, Benny. She’s here for an interview.”
“Ma’am. Do you have your letter or email?”
“I’m so excited. To think I could actually work in a place this grand.” Gigi handed him the folded paper.
He read it, checked his form, and nodded. “Executive floor. Here comes Peg to escort you.”
“Holy Toledo, Max!” She gave him a brief one-armed hug, carefully protecting her infamous clipboard. “You applying, too?”
“You?” Annabelle stood back, looking up at the tall executive assistant.
“Hey, I know you. Gotta say, you look better after you dry off.”
“You two know each other?” Max and Gigi asked, glancing from Peg and then to Annabelle.
“Last night. Ladies’ room. Drenched,” Annabelle explained. “You remember that, don’t you, Max?”
He grimaced. “Kinda. Can’t let that go, can you?”
Peg pointed back and forth. “Come on, what gives?”
“Are you a superhero?” Joey asked, craning his head back to take in Peg’s tall frame.
“Me?” She snorted, peering down at him. “Sure, if you want me to be. What’s my name gonna be? Stretch?” She laughed at her own joke and the kid joined in.
“I like you,” Joey said.
“Ditto, kiddo.” She winked at him. “Now, you want to tell me about the red cape and Spidy shirt? Super Spidy?”
He giggled. “No, silly. I’m Super Joey.”
Holding up her hand, she said, “High-five!”
They smacked hands. The loud clap echoed in the marble entryway.
“Gotta love Peg,” Max whispered to Annabelle.
“Yeah.” She coughed, obviously choking back tears.
“Okeydokey. Gertrude O’Connor, ready to wow Boss 1 and Boss 3?”
“Luck, Gigi,” Joey and Annabelle said in unison.
“I’ll find you afterward,” she called back as she and Peg walked briskly to the elevator.
“You’ll do great,” Max said, waving as the older woman grinned and wiggled her fingers at him.
“Returning this?” Benny asked, nodding to the gray suit jacket.
“Cleaners,” Max offered, sending a sly smile Annabelle’s way. He nodded toward the men’s department. “Then I’ll give them the ten-cent tour.”
“Ten cents?” Joey asked.
He touched him on the head. “Just an expression, kid.”
The boy looked up with wide eyes. “What’s a…pression?”
Max held Annabelle’s gaze and something tangible zapped between them. He let out a slow breath.
“It’s a common saying,” Annabelle rushed out, jerking her glance away. “In this case, it means a quick or cheap guide of the store.”
“Oh,” Joey said, frowning, still not grasping the meaning.
“Cheap isn’t a word I’d associate with King’s,” Max pointed out, directing them to the men’s department. “Thanks, Benny. Tell Bruno I’ll be in touch.”
“You two.” The older man shook his head. “Always talking security measures.”
Max liked the seasoned head of security at King’s. He ran the place like a tight ship, preferring the overnight shift since his wife worked that same schedule as a home health care nurse for the elderly. Sometimes Max wondered if Bruno lived at the store since he’d see him at all hours of the day or night, checking on every detail.
The man loved this store and what it stood for almost as much as he loved the King sisters and their families.
He and Max shared a great deal. Bruno even gave him pointers on how to keep the overzealous fans away from Jay and his brothers. It had worked, too.
Now, he wanted to discuss his plans with Bruno. He may be the only one who understood Max’s need to serve and protect. Wait, Edward may also. The ex-cop could give him more insight into the job and how to tell his family without breaking their hearts all over again.
Note to self, find the driver for the family and have that talk asap.
The more people who knew of his plans to become a cop, the greater the risk in being found out before he talked it over with the most important people in his life.
If only he could keep it hush-hush…
***
Annabelle felt like royalty being escorted through the elegant store. Max, either by looks or by popularity, drew a lot of attention, especially from the women.
“Hey, how’s it going?” he’d ask and nod to most of the staff and even some patrons.
Their reactions were sometimes awe and sometimes comical, depending on the age of the females. The older ones blushed and the younger ones nearly tripped over themselves to get to him and ask to take a picture with him.
He was a chick magnet. That was it! It seemed as if he didn’t solicit it; however, he graciously caved in and accepted the role.
“Be safe,” he said to more than one when they left them behind.
“Max, they like you,” she teased. “No, they really, really like you.”
“It’s Joey. They want to get close to me to get closer to him. The superhero.” He shrugged and made her son giggle.
“You’re so funny.” Joey looked at him with wonder.
“It’s the cape, pal. Works every time. Red is your color.”
Max winked at Annabelle and her knees wobbled. She gulped hard.
“You’ve got that vibe, Joey.”
“Yo, bro,” someone called out, causing Max to whip around.
“Danny. Hey, brother. I didn’t know you were working today.”
His face lit up and Annabelle’s insides did that funny floaty thingy.
The guys hugged, clapping each other on the back. Pulling back, Danny saw her. “I know you!” He rushed to her and gave her a quick, fierce embrace.
Annabelle, locked up for a second, stood stunned. When he released her, she could breathe again. “Danny,” she squeaked out his name.
He stuck out a hand to her son. “I’ve never met a superhero before. I’m Danny. This guy’s oldest brother.”
“Really?” Joey took the outstretched hand. “You talk kinda funny. Are you all right?”
Heat whooshed up her neck and into her face. Annabelle wanted to run and hide in a cave. How can you censor a six-year-old?
“Some people call me slow.” He shrugged. “Depends on who you ask, I guess. I’m just me. Danny.”
Max beamed, a mixture of love and pride in his eyes.
Air siphoned out of her aching lungs. Good job, Danny!
“You work here?” Joey pointed at the name tag.
“Overtime today.” He rubbed his hands together. “I got to organize the stock room. That’s my favorite job in the whole world.”
His brother groaned. “No, don’t go there, Danny. Not that again.” But his sly grin softened the barb.
Danny nudged his brother. “Alphabetize and organize.”
“Ah, you went there. All my life he’s been reminding me with that chant.”
“It works, doesn’t it?”
“Perfectly. But a little goes a long way.”
This time Danny snorted. “With three baby brothers in the house? Never enough.”
“Three?” Joey held up the same number of fingers. “Wow!”
“You can say that again,” Max muttered.
“Hey, watch it, brother.” Danny nudged him on the arm. “Paybacks.”
“I’m the cook, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” He slumped his head forward. “I forgot. Always trying to take care of us.” He rubbed his belly. “At least you’re good at it.”
The interplay between them was warm and affectionate. But there was something Danny said that wormed through her. Max was always trying to take care of them. A chill swept over her. Isn’t that what her late husband had done, too? Not just for his family, but everyone he came in contact with.
But the last time, he’d rushed into that fire, burst out with a limp child in his arms, handed her to the medics, and raced back to fight the blaze from sweeping through the tiny village. And he never came back out again.
Annabelle blinked, forcing herself to crash back to the land of reality.
Max Whitfield may look different—broader and more handsome in that pretty boy way—but he was the same as her Joseph. On the inside at least, the vein of service ran through him.
He took care of others.
Max had tried with her, too, last night. And continued on through today. Why else would he show up with coffee and donuts, volunteer to drive them to Gigi’s interview, and later to the repair shop, and now entertain them while waiting?
Any other normal guy would have ditched her at the first opportunity instead of chasing her.
Did she appear so much in need?
Damaged? Maybe. Incapable? Never.
Her guard had slipped once, right after she’d lost her mom to diabetes—her dad being absent from day one—when she’d met Joseph. His big personality swooped in and took control. And she, so worn down and raw, welcomed the reprieve from being just a scared teenager and in charge, shaken by the overwhelming responsibility of life and death.
In the end, her dependence on him nearly crippled her when he vanished.
With steely resolve, she shed her naïve, innocent self and took on the role as head of her little family, clutching them to her and warding off any intruders who dared to breach their little, safe secure world.
Annabelle was in the driver’s seat and in control of her life. Never again would she give that up to anyone. Ever!
She had a thriving—okay, not so spectacular—business, right now. But she’d worked hard to get where she was, even harder to stay there the last few years, and even if she’d hav
e to take some of those not-so-hot projects on to pay the bills, Annabelle O’Connor would and could do it. No worries!
Bouncing back was her forte, wasn’t it?
Enough said!
She had grit and determination on her side. Lord knew, she didn’t want anyone feeling they had to help her, as if she even needed it, for that matter. She wasn’t some hardship case. She didn’t need charity.
Not from him.
As if!
Just as soon as she got the football signed, she’d dump Max Whitfield.
Chapter 10
Max noted the cool shoulder she presented him in the stock room tour.
What happened?
Joey, engrossed with Danny’s explanations, followed him down the aisle. Max hung back and thankfully so did Annabelle.
“Something you should tell me?”
“Huh?” She touched the shelves, her fingertips gliding over the pictures of the products attached to the metal, each section clearly defined. “He’s more than good. I could use his help.”
Her distraction, or was it feigned as she ignored him, made Max grin. She likes me? He dropped the smile as realization hit. He cared, too dang much already. That wasn’t a good thing.
“Don’t worry. Strictly platonic.” Why did he feel he had to clarify?
She snapped her head around, her green eyes wide and her mouth in the soft little O again. Something kicked him in the gut. “I…never.” Annabelle shook her head. “Not me.”
“Good.” He lied. “No probs, right?”
“Just a teeny tiny detail you seem to overlook.” Her raised eyebrows meant he should know what she was talking about. He didn’t.
“Clue me in again.”
“The football,” she muttered, dragging her oversized brilliant blue tote off her shoulder and shoving it at him. “Signed.”
Grabbing the bulky canvas, Max groaned. He’d forgotten. Selective memory? “You are a pushy little thing, aren’t you?”
“Not nearly enough, it seems.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him.
His gut tightened. She looked so dang cute like that.
“For Joey.”
A stab of guilt poked him. The kid! “Super Joey.” The words were soft and tender. “Great kid, by the way.”
once upon a romance 08 - making a splash Page 5
