She had become close with Teddy. They spent hours talking like two girlfriends—on the phone or holed up in his shop. He really reminded her of home and some of the friends she’d left behind. Miami was a mecca of colorful people. She missed that.
The best part was that Amanda had finally set up her laptop and had cable—who in their right mind lived without cable nowadays?—installed in the house. So now she had Wi-Fi access. Finally, some connection to the real world.
As she was checking her neglected Facebook page, the familiar ding of her IM caught her attention. She looked to see who’d come online. HOTTAMALE.
Carlos.
The man thought he was a hot tamale. Ha!
The chat window popped up on her screen.
Hey, baby, what r u doin, flashed before her.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t blocked her screen name for others to see, so he knew she was online. The green little circle told him so.
Nothing, she typed, then hit the Enter key with a little more force than was necessary.
A second later: I miss u.
I bet, Amanda replied.
Do u 4give me?
No. She blocked his screen name and x-ed out of the window. That was that.
Until her cell phone rang thirty seconds later. She looked at the display. She recognized the number; the self-proclaimed hot tamale was now calling.
She swiped the screen. “What.”
The heavy accent on the other end grated her nerves. “You shouldn’t still be mad at me.”
“Why not?”
He knew that she every right to still be angry with him. Which was evident by the long pause. “I miss you, pocita.”
“You said that.”
“I could come and visit.”
Amanda laughed. Carlos in Manning Grove. Right.
It was almost as laughable as Amanda herself being in Manning Grove. She grimaced.
“I could bring tu madre.”
“No!”
“She misses you, as I do. Says it was a mistake that you left.”
“That’s her opinion. The only mistake I made was accepting you back for the second time after you slept with Rena.” The cheating, lying perro.
“It won’t happen again.” He sounded like a little boy, and Amanda wondered what she’d ever seen in him. He had swept her off her feet with his hot Latino passion, but that was all it was. Nothing more. He was immature and still a little child. Sometimes he acted even younger than Greg.
“No, you’re right, it won’t. I’m done with you.”
“You found another man.”
“No.” Well, maybe. Sort of. She found a man continually in her thoughts. And her wet dreams. A man in a dark blue uniform. A proud, strong, amazingly annoying man. But a real man.
Not some little boy. She was finished with thirty-year-old little boys. Done with double-dealing dogs.
“No me llama otra vez.” She heard a hurt sound on the other end before she cut off the call.
The phone rang again. Didn’t she just tell him not to call?
She let the call go to voice mail and went back to catching up on her endless e-mails.
Within two minutes the phone rang again. Her mother.
She pushed the Power button, shutting the phone off. It was too coincidental. Her mother had probably put Carlos up to calling her. She thought Amanda would come running back to Carlos.
Well, she was wrong.
As much as she wanted to go back to Miami… Even if she could convince Greg, she would now have to wait. There was no way she wanted her mother to think she was coming back because of her. Or Carlos.
If she could survive this arctic tundra, she’d go back in spring. That gave her plenty of time to work on Greg.
* * * *
An uneventful Thanksgiving came and went. The same lonely pumpkin that Amanda had purchased for Halloween served as the sole decoration for turkey day.
As the colorful leaves fell, barren trees were left in their wake. The winds picked up, causing Amanda to finally give in and dig out some of her stepmother’s unattractive, bulky sweaters to wear. She had resisted for a while, but even with the heat on, she shivered in the house.
Passing a mirror in the upstairs’ hall, she stopped and looked at herself in disgust. Apparently her stepmother had been a much larger woman, as the sweater she had pulled on fell to her knees and swallowed her whole. She looked like a big blob.
She had money accumulating in an account since she had hardly touched the trust except to pay for Greg’s day care, food, and the utilities. She decided it was a good time to spend some of it.
She shucked the sweater. There was no way she was going out in public looking like that—she’d rather freeze to death. She made sure Greg was bundled up before packing him into the gray Buick, with the now nondescript license plate, and headed off to do some high-end shopping…at Sears. Besides Walmart, it was the only decent-sized store in the area.
A light dusting of snow covered the roads, and she ended up driving like an old woman. She was not used to driving in the stuff. Her knuckles white, she had to slowly unfold them from the steering wheel when she finally got to their destination. She realized she’d had her jaw clenched the entire time, and forced it to relax, rubbing away the stiffness.
Greg had teased her all the way, telling her she looked funny. She was too nervous to remove a hand from the steering wheel to turn up the stereo volume. She had wanted to drown out his deafening laughter.
When she had turned into the parking lot, the car’s back end had slid a tiny bit, and she shrieked with fright. Greg had only enjoyed the ride and screamed, “Wheeeee!”
She had looked over at him in annoyance. It would serve him right if she made him drive home.
But she slowly relaxed as they strolled through the different departments at Sears. Greg was having a ball picking out items excitedly, spittle flying like crazy. He found the perfect outfit for Amanda: purple stockings, a lime spandex jumper and a pink turtleneck. Oh, and she couldn’t forget the yellow beanie hat. Amanda handed it all to a clerk, apologizing. She felt bad that the young girl would have to put all the stuff back.
Instead, she went to the juniors department where the clothes were a bit more trendy and tried on some really cute tops along with some tight hip-riding jeans. On her umpteenth trip to the dressing room, she pulled on a snug, soft V-necked sweater in autumn gold and a deep forest-green corduroy mini. She tugged on some black leather knee-high boots and tromped out onto the sales floor amid the jungle of clothing racks.
“What do you think, Greg?”
Greg was not sitting on the vinyl seat where she’d left him right outside the dressing room. Instead he was talking with animation to none other than Officer Bryson. She sucked in a breath. He was in uniform with a dark navy cruiser jacket covering his wide shoulders. He carried a notepad in his hands.
And he was staring a hole right through her. Amanda’s toes curled in the tight boots.
She went over, walking carefully in the stiff boots. She didn’t need to trip and look like a dolt. “Is there a problem, Officer?”
Even though fully clothed, he made her feel naked as hell while raking his eyes over her. Warmth spread from her thighs.
His hand tightened on the notebook, and she noticed a quick clench and unclench of his jaw before speaking…a bit huskily. “Not at all.” Max cleared the catch in his voice. “I was just here getting additional information on a previous incident.”
“Oh. Sounds exciting.”
“It’s not. Greg was just telling me that you two had Thanksgiving alone.”
Amanda shot a look at her brother. As always, it went unnoticed. Greg hopped from one foot to the other, nodding his head in agreement.
“We weren’t alone,” she said carefully. “We had each other.”
“You don’t have any other family you can spend the holidays with?”
Amanda frowned and muttered, “None that I want to spend it with.”
“What?”
“None close by. I don’t want to drag Greg down to Miami for just a few days.” She added, “If I drag him down there, I want it to be permanent.”
Amanda didn’t miss his answering scowl. It wasn’t any of his business anyway.
Max turned to Greg. “Want to spend Christmas with my family? We’ll have a tree and presents, and we’ll sing Christmas carols.”
Greg squealed with delight, his arms swinging uncontrollably. It was a low blow not to ask her first in private before getting Greg’s hopes up.
“And mistletoe…” He stared at her lips. She licked them instinctively.
He stepped forward. She stepped back. Their gazes locked.
Amanda finally broke free and looked at her brother. She couldn’t disappoint him. She didn’t want him to miss out on a fun holiday gathering. Even if it was with this disturbing man and his family. His family.
“Your wife won’t mind?”
A deep rumbling started in Max’s belly and worked its way up. “No. My wife won’t mind.”
He winked at Greg. Greg tried to wink back but ended up closing both of his eyes at the same time.
“Oh,” she murmured, wondering why that question would be funny.
Max flipped open his notepad and scribbled down an address before ripping the page out of the book. “Here. Be there early enough to open presents.” As she reached for it, he snagged it back to scribble some more. “That’s my cell. In case you get lost…or are late.” He snapped the notepad closed and stuffed it into his back pocket. “But don’t be late.”
He was giving her an order!
His wandering gaze seared her from head to toes.
“And wear that outfit.” With that he turned and strode away.
He was telling her what to wear? Whatever!
Chapter Five
Fuck him! Telling her what to wear.
Amanda studied herself in the long mirror, tugging slightly on her new corduroy skirt. She plucked a fuzzy off the gold sweater and wiggled her feet in the knee-high leather boots. She was wearing exactly what he wanted her to wear. With the addition of sheer black stockings. And some emerald jewelry she had discovered in her stepmother’s jewelry box to accent her eyes.
She made sure Greg was dressed nicely before she loaded him and the presents she had wrapped—a little sloppily, but they were wrapped—into the horribly nondescript Buick.
As she drove through town, her stomach did a little dance.
She wanted to think she was just nervous about taking Greg to someone else’s home. Hoping he didn’t get out of control. But it wasn’t that. She was actually learning to deal with her brother’s swinging moods.
Instead, it was the thought of meeting Max’s family. She assumed Marc would be there. And possibly the mysterious third brother Matt, supposedly another cop. She could only guess about the rest of the family. Max could have a wife and a herd of kids for all she knew. Though, if so, he was a dog for staring at her like he did.
Maybe he had taken pity on Greg and that’s why he’d invited them. Not for her, but out of concern for her brother. As if she was incapable of providing a nice holiday for him.
Well, that was fine. She wanted to make her brother happy. And if being around a big family would be good for Greg, then so be it.
Still, she was sure she would feel like an outsider.
With a mental shake, Amanda reminded herself that everything wasn’t about just her any longer.
Following Max’s directions, she drove out of town and down a country road. Double-checking the number on the mailbox, she made a right into a long stone driveway. The painted wooden sign was hard to miss. BRYSON CHRISTMAS TREE FARM.
It certainly was. Dark green, beautifully groomed trees lined both sides of the driveway. A mini forest of pines blocked the view of any buildings until they got to a clearing.
An old, well-kept farmhouse appeared, flanked by several outbuildings. Some were small, old, and wooden, others large and metal. A couple tractors sat around the farmyard. In the driveway, a handful of trucks and SUVs were parked haphazardly. She felt out of place in the lone sedan. Apparently this was truck country.
Amanda had barely stopped the vehicle before Greg released his seat belt, letting it fly. Amanda winced as the metal buckle smacked against the passenger-side window. At least it hadn’t shattered. He flung the door open and ran up to the wraparound porch, shrieking with excitement.
Before she could even turn off the ignition, he was pounding on the front door. Greg disappeared inside as soon as it opened. Amanda climbed out of the car and stood staring, hands on her hips.
Now who was going to help her carry in all the packages?
Her answer came in the form of a tall, lean man bounding out of the house. He closed the gap between them quickly with his long strides.
His breath frosted the air as he spoke. “You must be Amanda.”
She blinked at the image before her. This was exactly how Max would look in about twenty-five years. He could only be Max’s father.
The well-built man reached out to give her a great big bear hug. Amanda yipped as she felt her ribs tighten.
“Pop! Pop! Put her down.” With the same exact stride, Max came off the porch, following his father to the car.
When Pop Bryson dropped her to the ground, she grabbed Max’s arm for support. Marc jogged down the front steps to join them. “Pop, are you molesting the guest?”
Amanda finally got her breath back and popped open the trunk. “Good. You guys can help me carry the presents in.”
The three peered into the back of the car. It was jam-packed with brightly wrapped boxes.
Pop exclaimed, “You didn’t need to bring us gifts, girl!”
Amanda blushed. “I didn’t. They are for Greg. I wanted him to have gifts to open while everyone else is opening theirs.”
“Don’t you worry about that, girl. He’ll have plenty of gifts. Now you just get yourself inside and warm up. Leave the heavy lifting to us men.”
She did so gladly, even though none of the packages were heavy.
Her senses flooded as she stepped inside. The crisp scent of pine from the enormous fresh tree that sat in the front room blended nicely with the unmistakable smell of a turkey roasting in the oven. A soft glow of candles lit up the room. She looked at them with worry. She’d have to make sure Greg didn’t knock them over, either burning himself with hot wax or torching the house down. She was shocked to realize that she was thinking like a mother with a small child—a child who was very curious and always into things.
A tinkle of laughter floated through the room, interrupting her thoughts. Amanda heard Greg’s squeals mixed in. She followed the sound into the warm kitchen. She was relieved to see a handsome woman in her midfifties—not a beautiful young wife for Max—standing next to Greg. The woman was showing him how to baste the turkey. She was patiently holding his squirming hand steady, so he wouldn’t squirt the hot juices anywhere but where they belonged.
“Okay, now step back and let me stick Tom Turkey back into the oven. He’s got some time to go yet.”
“Tom.” Greg mimicked. “Yummy!” Greg spun and spotted Amanda. “’Manda! We’s going to eat Tom.”
“I see that. Tom looks good.”
“Yummy! Yummy in my tummy.” He rubbed his belly while doing a little jig, then laughed at his own goofiness.
The older woman stepped forward. After wiping her hands on a dish towel, she extended one. “I’m Mary Ann.” She gave Amanda a warm smile. “And I’m sure you’ve met Ron.”
Amanda rubbed her ribs. “Yes, he, Marc, and Max came out to greet me. They look a lot alike.”
Mary Ann sighed. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Or should I say bushel of apples? Cursed…oops, I mean blessed with three boys. All look like Ron. Lucky for them, their father is a handsome man.” She waved Amanda into a chair at the old plank-topped table, and she settled across from her. “Not only do the
y look like him. They all act like him. Stubborn. Possessive. Fiercely loyal. Did you know Ron is a retired cop? He worked on the same force they all work on now. For thirty years! Heck, Ron’s father was killed in the line of duty as a police officer. It’s in the blood.”
Amanda remembered the picture she had seen hanging at the police station. It made sense now. That had been Max’s father.
“You haven’t met Matt yet. He’s home, at least for now. He’s a jarhead. Again, they all were. Do you know what a jarhead is?”
Amanda didn’t even attempt to answer; she just shook her head instead.
“A Marine. He’s in the reserves, but originally he was sent over to fight in the Middle East. He’s home for the holidays, but they’ll be shipping him back overseas again in a couple weeks for who knows what. I just hope his tour is over soon and he comes home permanently. A mother can’t help but worry.”
“Mother!” An even younger version of Max, Ron, and Marc entered the kitchen. His very familiar eyes pinned Amanda to her seat. He looked to be about her own age.
“Well, can you blame me, Matt? I fretted while each of your brothers served. Why shouldn’t I with you? Especially being over there in one of those godforsaken countries.”
“Come on, Mom.” Matt barked. “I’m only home for a short time. Let’s not ruin it.”
“Well, I wish you boys would just settle down and get married and give me some grandchildren.”
A collective groan was heard from the other room. Amanda stifled a laugh. Mary Ann sniffed, throwing the dish towel on the table. She grabbed Greg by the hand. “Come on, my boy. Let’s go open presents.”
“Yes, presents. Lots of presents!” he crowed.
“The best present a mother could get is a few weddings and…”
The roars of “Mother!” deafened the room once more.
MAX WATCHED GREG rip the colorful wrapping paper off yet another present with enthusiasm. Greg’s attention span was short; as soon as he started opening a new gift, he forgot what he had previously opened. But he was going home with a nice take.
Brothers in Blue: Max Page 5
