He caught my hands, stopping me from pulling him out of his pants. His eyes drank me up before he took a deep, recuperating breath. “It’s okay, Wilson; I’m fine. Builds anticipation for later, that’s all.” He kissed me before he shook his head and snatched up his hoodie and t-shirt.
“Really? I guess so. Whew, that was so intense,” I said as I straightened out my sweater and pushed my bangs back out of my eyes. If he can make me feel this way now, what is it going to be like when he makes love to me?
I wanted more than the twenty-five minutes the limo ride had given us. Sure, we had the comfort of those plush seats and everything we wanted at our fingertips; everything but time. It was probably for the best that we’d gotten interrupted when we did, though. Max had me so hooked, I would have let him make love to me, even if I didn’t want my first time to be in the back seat of a car.
Max leaned forward. His hand drifted across the back of my head as he combed his fingers through the section that had gotten tangled against the seat.
“Let me fix your hair. We don’t want any evidence of where I just took you,” Max whispered in a light chuckle against my ear. He leaned back as a smile broke across his face. His eyes magically transported me back to what had just taken place between us. His lips were soft and relaxed as he kissed me delicately at the corner of my mouth.
My body was still humming from what he’d just done to me.
“I doubt my hair would be the evidence anyone would see first,” I said, knowing I was blushing from the top of my head down through my feet. Max straightened the collar of my sweater, making sure to caress his fingers against my skin.
“There…you ready?” he asked.
I took a deep breath. “Yep.”
When I got out of the limousine and pressed my foot to the driveway, a comforting familiarity washed over my soul. I felt home; I know that sounds corny, even a little freaky, but it felt right. Suddenly, everything that was ever wrong in my life—everything that sucked about being me—was gone. I was Max’s girlfriend, a girl his mom liked and his dad spoiled. Who wouldn’t want to spend a week with people who actually wanted you to be with them?
Max pulled me over to the massive porch, still laden with multi-colored earthy slate and the same pair of partially nude angels pouring water from huge vases on either side of the rippled glass front doors—still amazing. Max grabbed the massive brass handle and opened the door. The warmth of the house washed over my skin. Soft, seasonal music with delicate bells welcomed us to the rustic, cozy entry. The same sunflower yellow walls swathed me into an easiness that felt like I’d been here hundreds of times before. I pulled off my shoes; Max grinned and slipped off his shoes too.
“Hey—it’s important to me,” I told him.
“What? Can’t a guy smile at his girl? Especially after he gives her a limo ride she’ll never forget,” he teased as he picked up his shoes and tossed them into a basket underneath one of the wooden loveseats. He wrapped his arms around my stomach. Nuzzling his face close to my ear, he let out a guttural moan. I felt his entire body push against my backside.
“Yeah, right; I know exactly what happens when you give me your smile. I end up in a helicopter thousands of miles above frozen cities and uninhabited wilderness,” I teased before I winked and handed him my shoes.
“Now come on—didn’t I make up for it with the limo ride? I didn’t know you were so terrified of heli—”
“Maxi, is that you?” Nancy, Max’s mother called out as she came around the corner from the dining room. Her brilliant green eyes met mine, and at once, I fell in love with her all over again. The love she exuded from every pore of her body made me feel like I was right where I belonged.
“Wilson, sweetheart—come here, birthday girl.” She waved her hands toward me as she held her arms out. I let her give me a welcome that, up until today, had always been reserved for my grandma. “You know, Frank is so excited to hear about your ride in Ol’ Tweety. Quite frankly, I’ve never liked riding in that death trap,” she continued as I slipped into her open arms. She pulled me close and squeezed lovingly. She smelled like a meadow of wildflowers and felt like the delicate sunbeams that tickled across my skin on a warm summer day.
“Happy Birthday, sweetie,” Nancy said as I felt one of her hands rub circles across my back and the other catch the back of my head.
“Thank you, Nancy,” I mumbled across her shoulder.
Her maternal love flooded over me, extinguishing all the times my mother’s deliberate acts of abandonment burned my defensive heart. Nancy was so good at being mom that I instantly ached when she let go. Her hand slid across my shoulder as she held her other arm out for Max to join our intimate moment.
“Ma, you were right,” Max mentioned as he slipped next to her and kissed her on the cheek.
“Well then, maybe next time you’ll listen,” she smiled at him before messing up his hair. “I see you still didn’t get your hair cut.”
“Aw, come on. Can’t admitting you were right be enough to keep you from giving me static about my hair?”
“Well, just remember, I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. I’ve been around longer than you think,” Nancy smiled before letting go of Max and me.
Max grabbed my hand before he turned and asked, “Where’s dad?”
“He and Camille went over to the Randohs’. Greg blew a circuit breaker or something when he plugged in a new plasma TV he gave Pam for Christmas. And, well, you know Greg—he can’t change a light bulb without screwing it up,” Nancy laughed as she patted Max on the shoulder and pulled at his collar. “They should be here any time.”
Max smiled before he cleared his throat; he was just about to say something when the door slammed.
“Helloooo! We’re baaaack!” Frank bellowed. My heart pattered at the sound of his voice.
“Hey, Dad,” Max said at the same moment Nancy announced, “We’re in the family room.”
I wanted to soak up the moment Frank strolled in and saw his son. As generic as their acknowledgement of each other was, it still was so much more than I’d ever had.
I never heard my dad speak. Hell, I never even laid eyes on him. According to my late grandma, my mom had a one night stand with the spawn of Satan. Hello, then what does that make me—half German, half hellion? When I was little I would run into the bathroom every morning and check my forehead in the mirror, worried about waking up with horns bursting from either side of my forehead. Years later, I discovered ‘spawn of Satan’ was only a figure of speech for a real asshole.
Frank turned the corner with Camille trailing behind. His eyes lit up and Camille jetted past him to get to Max first. She hugged him like she hadn’t seen him in years. Standing on her tiptoes, she rocked him back and forth.
“I’ve really missed you, and I’m so glad you brought Wilson,” she said as she let go of him, wiped her eyes, and then flung her arms around me.
“Oh! Good to see you too, Camille,” I managed to utter as she squeezed me tighter.
“Happy Birthday.” She lowered her voice to a rumble in my ear before she continued, “Did Calvin come with you guys?”
I looked at Max to save me from the corner Camille was pushing me into. Why is she asking me? It’s not like I’ve known her more than one day of my life. But Max couldn’t save me; he’d gotten trapped into a conversation with his father.
“No, maybe you should talk to Max,” I whispered back. Camille stiffened then let go of me.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. I’m just glad you guys are here; now I won’t be the only one who has to deal with all the Calvin drama from my father.”
“Oh, there you are, Wilson. What’da think about flyin’ in Ol’ Tweety? Nancy told Max you’d probably hate it, just like her. Can’t get that woman to fly anywhere with me,” he boasted.
“Oh, Frank!” Nancy tossed her hands in the air. “Now, Wilson, don’t you listen to him. He knows my rule—he can take me anywhere in the world just as long as we are
in an automobile or a commercial airliner. That’s not too much to ask, is it?” Nancy went over to Frank and slid her arms around him before he bent down and gave her a kiss hello.
My heart swelled with so much envy. I had to face the fact that my life would never be a Hallmark moment. All I ever wanted was a set of parents who loved each other more than any of their vices. I never thought it was too much to ask for a mom who loved me and a dad who would be proud to call me his little girl.
“Wilson, were you comfortable in my car? Now don’t be shy, go on and tell me, which transportation did you like better—Max’s helicopter or my limo? Frank pointed at Max, “Don’t say anything, no coercion allowed.” Max stiffened; his lips pressed firmly together.
Well let’s see—I was terrified in the helicopter and we made out in the back of your limo; it’s really a no brainer. I looked over at Max, gave him a little smirky smile, and answered Frank, “I loved the limo ride. Thank you so much for such a great birthday surprise. It was amazing.” I couldn’t contain the smile beaming inside.
“See, your momma was right, women like the elegance of a limo above the exhilaration of a helicopter,” Frank said to Max.
“Got it,” Max mumbled.
“Well, maybe you’ll start listening to some of the advice your ol’ man and mother give you; unlike that brother of yours.”
“Alright, Dad, I heard you.” I could feel Max was starting to get tense. “Where’s Dan?” he changed the subject.
“Denver. His parents didn’t think Christmas Eve was enough time, so he’s going to stay a couple more days with them,” Camille volunteered.
“You didn’t stay with Dan and his parents?” Max prodded.
“I wanted to see you guys. And besides, two days was plenty with Dan’s family.” Camille popped Max in the chest.
“Now Dan—he’s a work horse,” Frank spat before he resumed talking about Calvin. “If I could just get your brother to learn that, in order to keep a job, you must first actually show up.”
“Frank, let’s not get started again. The kids just got here, and they’re probably hungry.”
Funny, I hadn’t thought about food until Nancy mentioned it. I was just too excited about being there. Our vacation had finally started. Max reached for my hand, and I could feel he was still mired in the words Frank drizzled across him about his brother.
“Fine, why don’t you ladies go in the kitchen? Max and I will stock the fireplaces,” replied Frank.
I could see Max’s jaw clench and his eyes narrow as he lowered his head. I smiled at him before he kissed me and watched me walk with Camille and Nancy into the kitchen. My heart bolted into my stomach when I looked back and he was still standing there, alone. Nancy looped her arm through mine and pulled me.
“Oh, Wilson, I hope you don’t mind Camille and I taking you from Maxi.” Nancy tightened her hold on my arm.
I shook my head no; everything moved so quickly, and honestly, I was so enthralled with her and how she included me in her world—I was hooked. Nancy was so amazing, I just wanted a piece of that. There was something about her that filled the gaping holes my bio-mom had left in my soul.
“You know, Wilson, my brother keeps his life very private from the family. He isn’t the type to bring just anyone around,” Camille mused. My mouth dried up, crisp as a sun-drenched desert, and suddenly I couldn’t swallow.
“Really?” I choked.
Nancy shot a glance my way as she busied herself with pulling sandwich fixings out of the huge, stainless steel refrigerator.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact, we simply stopped asking about it. His father and I figured he would eventually bring home someone special, when he was ready.”
I pushed my fingers to the edge of the black granite countertop and slid them across the bull-nosed finish—anything to keep my hands busy—and my eyes diverted from the both of them. I could tell they were protective of Max, and I didn’t blame them. Joanie would do the same for me.
“Well, umm—” I didn’t know what to say to that. Is she telling me she thinks I’m the one for Max?
“When Maxi told me he was bringing you to dinner that night…” Nancy stopped. I noticed she swallowed hard; I couldn’t tell if it was from disappointment or something else. My heart bounced, and without fail, I felt my body begin to ripple and struggle to keep from crying.
Oh my God, he totally keeps details of me away from his family. I wouldn’t blame them if they had gigantic red flags. Here I am—a girl with no family and some pretty crazy baggage—with a guy who has everything any girl would want.
“Mom, are you getting choked up again?” Camille teased. Her brown wavy hair, tamed as much as a head of curls could be, bounced against the sides of her face.
“Oh, now stop it, Camille.” She came over to me and grabbed my hands. My heart wrenched, hoping to feel anything but fear at her words.
“Don’t scare the poor girl,” Camille announced as she took Nancy’s place making the sandwiches.
I froze. What was going to come out of Nancy’s mouth? Was every hope and desire I pinned on her going to be obliterated in a moment’s time? Max was her son—a boy she raised to be a perfect man, in my eyes. Maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t the type of woman she expected him to bring home.
“Ever since you and Max have been together…” Nancy choked on the last words and I couldn’t catch what she said. She pulled me against her chest. She held me tight, as if she was saying goodbye forever. Suddenly I felt her take a deep breath, and as she let the air out of her lungs, she finished the end of her statement. “You make him so happy. Thank you for bringing my Maxi back.”
I stiffened and cold chills ran through my bones. What does she mean by that? Because I never got the impression he was ever gone. What am I supposed to say? Max doesn’t say much about his family, and considering my family is such a raw subject for me, our conversations don’t revolve around that.
I opened my mouth to respond but thought better of it and answered her by nodding my head up and down. Suddenly I was in unchartered waters with the veiled information Nancy was willing to drop in my lap. It wasn’t until Camille piped up, spewing something Max had never shared with me in the month we’d been dating, that made my heart thrash.
“Mallory really messed him up,” Camille let the words slip from her mouth, obviously without thinking. She shot a look at Nancy.
What was I supposed to do, act like I didn’t hear it? It was clear as day, and obviously it was information Max never shared with me. So I played it cool.
“Yeah, Mallory,” I said in the most casual, unexcited tone I could muster. All I have to do is keep cool. I can do this.
I didn’t care what sandwiches Camille was making. My appetite had disappeared, and suddenly nothing mattered to me more than the words that were going to follow the information she’d just churned out about some girl named Mallory. Instantly I felt my butterflies kamikaze-diving into the curdling acids exploding in my stomach. There was no saving them—one by one they were drowning, helpless.
“Camille!” Nancy barked.
“What?” she answered.
“I don’t think Wilson wants to hear about this right now,” Nancy growled clenching her teeth.
“No worries,” I piped up. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks and my mouth go dry. Every bit of moisture in my body rushed to the palms of my hands.
“It’s not like I am talking behind anyone’s back. It isn’t like Mallory is ever coming back,” Camille snapped. Her muddy brown eyes emulated her father’s bent for sarcasm.
“Well, any information about Max’s past should be told by him, not you. It’s not your place.” Nancy grabbed the jar of mayonnaise and twisted the lid back on it. I saw her eyes narrow as she glowered at Camille.
“Fine, I won’t tell her how she crushed his heart in her vicious claws and almost caused him to lose everything. I’ll let Max tell her.” Camille tossed a cheeky grin at Nancy before turning to put away the sandwich fixi
ngs.
“That’s no way to talk of her,” Nancy whispered with gritted teeth as she reached up and pulled down some elegant, black art deco plates.
“Why? Because she’s dead?” Camille spat.
Dead? What the hell? I felt chills ripple across my skin at her words. This Mallory person is dead? Maybe I didn’t want to hear what Camille had to say about Max’s dead ex-girlfriend.
I busied myself with the sandwiches, making them presentable on the plates before I turned to Camille.
“How about I take these out to the guys?” I offered, holding a plate in either hand, working to change the subject.
“That’s a good idea, Wilson,” Nancy answered, snatching another two off the counter. Camille huffed before she scooped up the last remaining plate. I think she got the hint; I wasn’t ready to hear anything about dead Mallory.
“Camille,” I heard Nancy hiss as I turned and pushed through a massive, glossy black swinging door with my backside.
I wasn’t ready for the bubbling turmoil I had in my gut when my eyes met Max’s. He was standing next to the raging fireplace, watching me. His electric-green eyes raked my body as his flawless lips curled to a slight smile. His black hair, damp from the weather outside, curved down perfectly, giving drops of Aspen the ability to tangle with his eyelashes and glisten against his complexion. He pulled off his wet jacket and hung it on a wrought iron coat rack next to the fireplace. His navy blue t-shirt, tight against his muscles, exemplified how fit he was. He doesn’t look broken to me; he’s perfect. But then again, how do I know what broken looks like? According to half the people at Wesley, we’re all broken.
Max dragged his hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face before he sauntered over to me.
“Is one of those for me?” he asked with twinkling eyes. He had no idea that, in the next couple of minutes, his past was going to haunt him.
“Yeah, it sure is.” I pushed a plate out to him.
“Thanks, sweetheart,” he said before he lowered to kiss me. I wanted to kiss him so bad—I wanted to taste his lips, feel his warmth—but I couldn’t; I couldn’t let him taste my heartache. I turned my head, avoiding his kiss on my lips.
The Wilson Mooney Box Set Page 32
