by Geri Krotow
“You got it. You still get them?”
Miles remained relaxed, his face tilted upward for maximum exposure to the sun.
“Not so much anymore. Sometimes I still wake up and think I have my leg. Sometimes it seems to hurt like it used to, in my knee—right before a storm front comes through.”
“Like that one?” Max nodded toward the horizon. The wind had picked up and there was a long dark line of clouds out on the horizon.
Miles laughed long and slow. “Yeah, Commander, like that one.” He shook his head. “Guess I gave myself away this afternoon, didn’t I?”
Max smiled and lightly punched him on the shoulder. “Rare is the day that I outpace you, and I did feel you hold back a bit when we made our second loop. Right after the cedar bridge.”
“I was hoping my leg would stay the hell on!” Miles’s grin broke the tension of an otherwise unfunny conversation.
“You should’ve said something. I was almost at the end of my lung capacity.”
“Sure you were, boss.”
They sat and spoke for another ten minutes until Miles suddenly looked at his watch and jumped up. “I’ve got to be at the other base in twenty minutes. Same time Friday?”
“Sure. What’s cooking tonight? A hot date?”
“Hell, no. I can’t work this leg on my own, much less worry about what to do with a woman right now. I promised I’d help with an animal rescue—the cops raided a home near Dugualla with over a hundred puppy-mill dogs.”
“That’s out by me. I wondered why there was a roadblock on the way up to Blueberry Point.”
“Got to go. Call me on my cell if you need me sooner than Friday.”
“Okay.” Max rubbed his neck. “Oh, and Warrant?”
“Yeah, boss?”
“Don’t even think about bringing me a puppy.”
Miles laughed all the way across the parking lot.
Max sat and soaked up the sun and clear air for a few more moments. Once the storm front came through, it could be cloudy for days. He needed more light; the slowly returning daylight wasn’t enough.
Marlene said that just a few minutes of direct sunlight each day would boost his serotonin levels and improve his brain chemistry. He didn’t doubt it, but he also understood that there were other ways to get endorphins—from exercise and developing bonds with other people, people like Miles.
Sex is good for altering moods, too.
He frowned. He hadn’t intended to go so long without sex. In fact, his old girlfriend had called, wanting to get together. Since their relationship had always been more about physical reasons than emotional ones, he’d surprised even himself when he told her he was too busy.
She’d heard he was back and wanted to spend some time with him. It should’ve scared him how fast he turned her down. As if he had another relationship brewing…
With Winnie.
He snorted, then shook his head to clear it. Shit, he’d made a mess of things. Whether you looked at the night he and Winnie made love as simply poor judgment or considered him rude for not calling her or blamed Winnie for her mistaken assumption that he wouldn’t be interested in his own child—it all came down to one thing.
He and Winnie had a daughter together.
He was also Krista’s godfather. Winnie had settled here with both girls, and he was done with his constant Navy moving.
Nope, Max wasn’t going anywhere.
CHAPTER NINE
WINNIE WAITED OUTSIDE city hall as Max had asked. She was supposed to meet him here at eleven forty-five. Problem was, it was going on noon and still no Max. Not usual for a military guy like him.
What business did he have with the town, anyway? He hadn’t shared his plans for life after the Navy with her. Did he intend to stay on Whidbey? Start a company of some kind? Buy a franchise?
Why do you care?
What Max did or didn’t do after he retired wasn’t her concern. There was only one thing that was relevant to her—what his plans were to be involved in the girls’ lives. Because of that, she wanted him to remain a friend but nothing else.
She could stay in the limited parking area, she supposed, provided she didn’t get out of her car. But honestly, how long could it take Max to get whatever he needed done at city hall?
“Easy, Sam.”
Sam, sitting in the backseat, whimpered in pure spoiled-dog mode. He preferred to be in a moving vehicle or up front with Winnie. Instead, the car was stopped and he was banished to the back.
“I hear you, boy, but it’s not going to make any difference. We have to wait for Max.”
Fifteen additional minutes stretched into twenty, and Winnie had an unsettling thought.
What if Max had already been here and left?
He wouldn’t do that. No, not Max, who’d made sure every one of Tom’s funeral details was taken care of, who’d ensured the proper military flyover for Tom’s burial.
Could she ever stop associating Max with Tom’s death?
You did two years ago. And again when he kissed you earlier this week.
Sam whimpered once more and Winnie looked through the windshield to see Max walking out of the Oak Harbor city hall doors. He was dressed in jeans and a windbreaker. The usual fall/spring “uniform” for Whidbey residents, but on Max it took rugged to a new level.
His long stride, the slight tilt to his head, were familiar. Unmistakably Max. But she noted, the few times she’d seen him, that his stride grew shorter, his movements less fluid, at the end of the day. When they’d exchanged those angry words on the soccer field, she’d wondered if he’d been gritting his teeth not just in exasperation with her but in pain.
When he approached the car, she opened the door and got out. The wind whipped away her breath.
“Sorry I’m late, Winnie.”
“I was afraid I’d missed you. So, what’s up?”
“I wanted you to be the first to see this.” He thrust a folder of papers at her.
“Careful, I don’t want them to blow away. But you need to know my plans, Winnie.”
Oh, God, was he seeking custody of Maeve? Surely he couldn’t get more than partial custody but even that…
“Hold on a minute, Max.”
“Winnie, calm down. Look at the paper. The top one.”
She opened the folder and braced herself to see a petition for custody. Instead, she read Application for a Retail Business in Oak Harbor. Her hunch had been correct. He was starting his own business.
“But…you’re still on active duty. And what kind of business is this going to be?”
“A flying business, Winnie. I’m going to provide charters to and from Seattle, and a local float plane tourist service.”
“Oh.”
Why bother getting out of the Navy if he was going to continue engaging in such dangerous work?
“Let’s go grab a cup of coffee.” His brusque manner angered her. As if she could be so easily pacified!
“Are you going to leave Sam in the car?” He was even acting as though Sam was his dog.
“No, he can come with us. He’s allowed in the coffee place—technically he’s working with you.”
Heat fanned her cheeks. She had to get over her physical attraction to Max.
“Out, Sam.”
The dog jumped obediently from the back cargo hold to the sidewalk.
“Good boy.”
Sam eyed Max and wagged his tail, showing his teeth in a way that could only be interpreted as a smile.
“Hi, Sam.” Max came closer and leaned over to scratch behind the dog’s ears.
Sam rubbed his head against Max’s open hand, then lay down and rolled onto his back, exposing his belly.
“You traitor!” Winnie couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice. While always loving and affectionate with clients and approved strangers, Sam never displayed his belly to anyone except her and the girls. It was the ultimate gesture of vulnerability—and trust.
“He just knows a sucker when he sees one.” Max�
�s hands made Sam’s belly look small. She’d always loved his fingers, their length accentuated by the dark hair that grew down his forearm and on his knuckles.
Hands of a warrior and her one-night lover.
The father of your daughter.
“Where are we headed, Max?”
He looked up at her and squinted against the sun that warmed her shoulders.
“I mean for coffee,” she added.
Max kept his gaze on her as he knelt next to Sam.
“I know what you meant. We can go to the Coffee Klatch.”
Where he planned to tell her he wasn’t just going to retire and stay on the island but that he was going to launch his own business.
A very dangerous business.
He stood. “Shall we?”
She nodded and gave Sam’s leash a snap. He jumped up, alert and ready to go. The leash was her means of communication with him; it had served almost as a kind of umbilical cord when he was a puppy being housetrained. Now it reminded Sam that she was at his side.
“Are you pressed for time?” He glanced at her as they made their way up the curve of the road.
“Am I in a hurry? A single mom with my own business? Are you kidding? All the time.”
Instead of being blown away by a gust, her words felt as though they lingered in the air between them.
She stiffened but not against the wind. Her words had sounded so harsh, even to her.
Stay focused on your purpose. Make the rules about time with the girls loud and clear.
Max ignored her retort as he matched her stride and walked on her left, protecting her and Sam from the traffic. She never thought of herself as the type of woman who needed a man to keep her safe, so it surprised her when a warm thrill of awareness spiraled through her.
Really? Have you survived widowhood and single motherhood only to be bowled over by your hormones?
“I’m glad you agreed to meet me.” His tone was genuine, and the deep rumble of his voice heightened the sense of intimacy.
“Um, sure. We still have a lot to work out, Max.”
He laughed. “With you, Winnie, there’s always ‘a lot to work out.’ I’ll bet you’ve made spreadsheets and calendars of exactly how and when I’ll get to spend time with the girls. One of whom is my daughter.”
Winnie opened her mouth, but then shut it. She frantically searched for a humorous reply and found none. Max knew her well, right down to her need for organization.
Robyn called it being a control freak. Winnie didn’t disagree but preferred to describe it in different terms—that she was simply more deliberate in her choices than others.
She and Max walked in silence for nearly a block.
“Does he always obey so well?” Max nodded at Sam, who trotted with his head up, eyes forward.
“Yes. Well, no, not at first.” A laugh escaped her throat and it felt good, laughing with Max instead of fighting him.
“He was a very exuberant puppy to say the least. It’s hard to believe this is the same puppy we found on the dining-room table eating the Easter ham, sniffing through the laundry basket to find the smelliest clothes to tear apart or digging up dozens of tulip bulbs I planted.”
“So what changed him?”
“Lots of obedience training and time. He’s always had a very intuitive side. All dogs do, as far as I’m concerned. But Sam not only knows when one of us is upset, but how we need to be comforted.” She hoisted her purse higher on her shoulder.
“If we were feeling down because of the weather or missing Tom,” she went on, “Sam would do something to make us laugh. If Krista was sad over not being invited to a classmate’s birthday party, he’d lie next to her and just give her his presence.”
“Sounds more like a shrink than a dog.”
She laughed again. “If they allowed dogs to be licensed, I’d never have to work another day in my life. Sam could provide for all of us.”
They’d walked several blocks on the road that joined the main street until they faced the entrance to the coffee shop. At the pedestrian crosswalk, the three of them stopped and looked both ways.
“He even crosses the street like a person!” The amazement in Max’s voice made her smile as they stepped out into the road.
“I—”
What she’d been about to say was cut off by the hard shove Max gave her just before a pair of motorcycles raced behind them and turned the corner in an illegal and potentially deadly fashion. She felt the whoosh of air the bikes’ engines blasted over them as they actually rode up over the curb.
“Ooof.” Her knees hit the edge of the cement curb and her hands stopped her from falling the rest of the way. Sam was beside her even though she’d lost her grasp on his leash. Max’s left hand was on her back, the other on the ground near Sam.
“Are you okay?” Max’s voice reassured her.
“Yes, yes, I’m okay. Thanks to you.” She straightened up and turned around. “How did you know they were coming? I never heard them until it was too late.”
“Instinct.” His lips were pressed in a thin line and his fists were clenched.
“Here, let’s get up on the sidewalk.” She grabbed his upper arm and pulled him toward her. She caught her breath at the look of sheer determination on his face. The fact that Sam was whimpering to get Max’s attention didn’t help. Sam had behaved this way once a year earlier—moments before a client’s epileptic seizure.
Max was struggling with his PTSD demons.
“Max, it’s okay. We’re all okay.” She dug her fingers into his biceps and pushed her sunglasses on top of her head. When she looked into his eyes she didn’t see his usual impenetrable gaze. The vacant look she saw shook her and simultaneously moved her to action.
“Stay with us, buddy.”
“I’m with you, Winnie. I just have to catch my breath. Leave me alone.”
“No.” She wrapped her arm around his and urged him forward.
“Sam and I need to walk. So do you. Let’s go.” It was half a block to the café door. If she could get him in there, get him some hot coffee, she’d bring him back to himself. She had to make his war recollections stop.
Max didn’t argue. Their walk to the shop was slow and stilted. Winnie wondered if she needed to call anyone like his doctor or therapist.
“I’m not an invalid.” His monotone frightened her. “I’m just stiff from falling over and moving so quickly.”
She’d witnessed the effects of PTSD countless times while working with returning sailors and their families. Certainly she’d seen worse. Young men and women who couldn’t even function outside of their hospital rooms.
Max’s had been triggered by the backfire and the reckless actions of the motorcyclists. His quick reflex had saved her and Sam—and proved that he still was on alert the way he’d been in Afghanistan.
She sneaked a quick glance at him and saw the stress and exhaustion etched in each line of his face. He had to get past that time in his life or it would age him rapidly.
He is getting past it. He’s agreed to work with you and Sam. He has a daughter to live for.
“Okay, here we are.” They got to the restaurant and she opened the door for Max. “We’re right behind you.”
As Max passed through the double glass doors, Winnie bent next to Sam on the sidewalk. He sat still as she tied the “canine companion” scarf around his neck. The owners of this café knew her and Sam, so she didn’t expect any resistance from the staff but sometimes clients had issues with an animal being in a place where food was served. The scarf ensured they’d have minimal friction from customers.
When they went inside, she saw that Max was seated by the huge window overlooking City Beach, staring at the water.
She walked Sam over to Max and handed him the leash.
“Watch him while I order our coffee, okay?”
Max didn’t reply, merely taking the leash in his hand. Sam happily sidled up to him and laid his head on Max’s lap. Agitated though he wa
s, even Max couldn’t resist the blatant quest for affection. He buried his hands in the fur on Sam’s head and around his ears.
“Hi, Winnie!” Justin, the college kid who worked the coffee bar to pay for school, greeted her as if she was still young and in college herself.
Winnie laughed. “Justin! How’s it going?”
“The frother crapped out, but I have these little battery whips so I can still make your cappuccino.”
“Great. Can I have two, skim milk with nutmeg on top?” She had no idea what Max liked but maybe the tang of the spice would distract him.
“Right away.” He started spooning the espresso grounds into the holder, tamping them down, and nodded at the glass case. “Louise made her sticky buns today. They’re done with whole-wheat flour and pure cane sugar.”
“No, thanks.” She answered automatically before she took the time to really look at them. The buns were large curled pinwheels of what promised to be soft dough with a caramelized syrupy coating. “Wait a minute—I’ll take two.”
Justine grinned and shook his head. “I knew you’d think twice when I told you the ingredients.” She smiled back at him. She’d decided to buy them to help both Max and her out of the shaky mood their near-miss had precipitated.
Once back at the table, two warm sticky rolls with cappuccino between them, she finally looked directly at Max. “How are you doing?”
His gaze, still on the water, wavered and he blinked.
She thought that was a good sign.
“I’m okay.” He picked up his coffee cup. She noticed the strength in his hands as he brought the brim to his lips and sipped.
He put down his mug and sighed. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Winnie. I’m not the man you knew.” The depths of his pain still echoed in his eyes.
“I can go weeks now without any hint of the PTSD. At night there’s always the chance of nightmares, less often over the past month. But during the day I still get sideswiped by it every now and then.”
She covered his hand with hers. “Max, even people without PTSD would react to almost being run over by two crazy motorcycle drivers.”
He pursed his lips. “Perhaps. But they wouldn’t still be thinking about it days later. I guarantee you that those bikes rounding that corner, just the sound of them, will replay in my mind for the next few hours.”
