by Loree Lough
Her voice trailed off as she ducked into the kitchen, preventing Max from hearing the end of Cammi’s sentence. But it didn’t take a genius to figure out who Lily was trying to impress. So, had he misread her reaction when he’d cracked the “I wouldn’t let you get away” remark?
He hoped so. Because he knew exactly what would make him happy, now and until he breathed his last.
Being with Lily, that’s what.
“Dinner was great, Lily,” Georgia said. “If I’d known you could cook like that, Andy’s job would have been in jeopardy!”
Lily blushed and rolled her eyes. “Please. You never would have agreed to let me put paper doilies under the pies and cakes…too fancy for your truck driver clientele.”
Laughing, Georgia said, “You make a good point.” She turned to Robert and said, “Now?”
Grinning like a schoolboy, the doctor got to his feet, clinked the handle of his butter knife on his water goblet. “Excuse me. Ahem. May I have your attention, please?”
One by one, they stopped talking to look his way.
“I have an announcement to make. Or rather,” he said, one hand on Georgia’s shoulder, “we have an announcement.”
Max leaned toward Lily. “Here it comes,” he whispered, “the moment we’ve all been waiting for.”
“Robert asked me to marry him,” his mother said, fanning her face with her napkin, “and I said yes.”
The instant of silence was broken when Lily applauded. “Congratulations, you two!” she said, hurrying to their side of the table. She gave each of them a hug, a kiss on the cheek. “What wonderful, wonderful news!”
“I agree,” Max said, joining them. “It’s about time, Dad,” he added, jacking Robert’s arm up and down like a pump handle.
“Does that mean you’re my grandpa?” Nate asked.
Robert said, “Yep, it sure does.”
Lily and Max returned to their seats as Lamont stood. “Time for the traditional London family thank-you list.” He looked from Robert to Max, from Georgia to Nadine’s son and his family. “For those of you who’ve never joined us for Thanksgiving dinner, we have this ritual. Nobody gets dessert ’til they’ve shared one thing they’re thankful for.” He faced Lily. “Sweetie, why don’t you show ’em how it’s done.”
She sat back, hands folded primly in her lap, and said, “I’m thankful that every one of you is part of my life.” She faced Lamont. “Your turn, Dad.”
When it was Cammi’s turn, she grabbed Reid’s hand. “I’m grateful to have the husband of my dreams to wake up to every morning.”
Nate said, “I’m thankful for having Lily’s blood in me, ’cause maybe it’ll make me into a good vettin-air-yun when I grow up.”
So much for “save the best for last,” Max thought, because now it was his turn. He’d never been much good at public speaking, and this came close enough. It made him nervous, made his voice waver, his hands shake and his ears hot—and an icy sensation snaked down his back. “Truth is, I have a lot to be thankful for,” he said. But if he had to single out one thing, as everyone else had, what would it be?
I rediscovered Lily, he thought.
“How utterly romantic!” Ivy gushed.
“That’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard,” Vi agreed.
Ivy and Vi had been confusing him since high school. Now, their identical faces lit up as if they were still teenagers! Until the twins spoke up, Max hadn’t realized he’d said aloud what he’d been thinking. How was he going to dig himself out of this one!
His mouth was suddenly bone dry, his palms damp. He reached for his water glass and missed, spilling it across the tabletop and into Lily’s lap. “Aw, man. I’m such a clod,” he said, attempting to blot it with his napkin.
But she leaned forward at the same moment he had, and his chin connected with her eye.
Instantly, Lily’s hand covered the spot. “Self-defense,” he said, groaning inwardly. “Not that I blame you.” He slid his chair closer to hers, put an arm around her. “I’m sorry, Lily. Man. I’m batting a thousand, aren’t I. You okay? Lemme see.”
“I have a hard head,” she said, smiling good-naturedly. “I’m fine.”
But she wasn’t. A tiny trickle of blood had already started creeping toward her cheek. “You’re not fine. You’re bleeding!” He grabbed his napkin, dipped it into her glass and tried to daub the tiny cut. Nate chose that moment to get a closer look and bumped Max’s elbow, causing him to poke Lily in the eye, instead.
“Good grief, Max,” his mother said, “stop helping her before you really hurt her!”
“He didn’t mean it, Georgia,” Nadine said. “Men sometimes get clumsy around girls they’re sweet on.” She pointed at a bruise on her forearm. “Got his one when Lamont tried to help me out of the car the other day.” She showed them a scratch on the opposite elbow. “And this is from when he boosted me into the saddle when we went riding the other day.”
A smattering of laughter punctuated her story. “You know what they say—‘love hurts,’” Lamont said, chuckling.
Their banter did little to ease Max’s guilt. He sat back, shoulders sagging, as Lily excused herself.
“I’ll just be a minute, guys. Help yourselves to dessert, why don’t you!”
Max rose halfway, intending to pull out her chair. At the last second, he decided against it, for fear he’d trip her with one of its legs. Not until she was safely out of the room did he get up. The others were busy pointing to which dessert they’d like to cut into first; he hoped no one would notice he’d left the table.
He stepped outside, quietly closing the huge front door behind him, and took a deep breath. The sky mirrored his mood—cold and gray. He sat on the top step of the porch and leaned both elbows on his knees, staring across the vast expanse of lawn that made up the London front yard. Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair. “Klutz,” he grumbled. “Bumbling idiot. Clumsy oaf.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Her sudden appearance on the porch startled him, and he lurched slightly. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Not long,” she said, reminding them of their earlier conversation in the kitchen. She sat down beside him, held the hair back from her temple. “See? No big deal. It’s just a teeny tiny little—”
He groaned, aloud this time. “Aw, man. You’re gonna have a big ugly knot on your head by morning.” Wincing, he added, “Sorry, Lil.”
She nudged him with her shoulder. “Accidents happen, Max.”
He looked into her face, saw that she’d meant every word. Max couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation—he’d clocked her, not the other way around, yet Lily was comforting him! No doubt about it: Happiness could be his for the asking…if only he could figure out how to ask.
Max slid an arm around her, gave her a little sideways hug. “You’re something else, you know that?”
He felt her shrug, heard her sigh.
“What?” he said.
But she only shook her head.
“Headache?”
“No.”
He wasn’t so sure. It would be just like her to hide any discomfort he’d caused her.
As if she’d read his mind, she looked at him just then. “Honest,” she said, patting his thigh. “I’m fine.”
She didn’t take her hand back, he noticed, but let it lie there instead, warming not only the skin beneath it, but his entire being. Maybe he should just ’fess up. Tell her how he felt.
Then again, maybe he shouldn’t; knowing Lily, she’d echo his words, if only to spare his feelings. Because, really, what did a gorgeous li’l gal like her want with a guy like him? A union between them, well, it was all in his favor. He’d get a pretty, big-hearted wife, Nate would get a loving mom—and what would Lily get? He glanced at her, saw that the spot where his chin had connected with her temple was already bruising. A lot of hard work, he thought, answering his own question—and contusions and abrasions.
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She shivered.
“Let’s go inside,” he said, standing. And looking at the darkening sky, Max quoted Shakespeare: “‘Something wicked this way comes…’” He held out his hand to help her up, and she willingly put hers into it. “You’re a brave, trusting soul, aren’t you,” he teased.
“Either that,” she shot back, “or a glutton for punishment.”
He cringed. “Oooh. Cheap shot. But I guess I had it coming. That, and then some.”
She stood in his path and, hands on her hips, said, “You have plenty coming, Max Sheridan, but it’s all good stuff, ’cause you’re a good man.”
My, but she was gorgeous standing there, green eyes flashing, long dark hair billowing in the breeze.
“You’re kind and hardworking and decent, right down to the very core of you!” She emphasized the point by jabbing a finger into his chest.
“You think so, huh?”
She tidied the collar of his shirt, in a gesture he could only call “wifely.”
“No. I don’t think so, I know so.”
“Well,” he said hoarsely, taking her in his arms, “if I’m so good and decent, why is it that every time I look at you, I want to kiss the daylights out of you?”
He heard her tiny gasp, saw her big eyes widen further as he slid his arms around her. She hadn’t stiffened this time, he noticed, the way she had in the kitchen while she mashed potatoes, and his wild emotions flew about. Could it mean she felt the same way he did—that happiness, genuine happiness, could be found right here in one another’s arms? Was that too much to ask for? If he was a praying man, he’d ask the Almighty to intervene, right now, on his behalf.
Instead, he buried his face in her hair and held her tight, so tightly that not even the frosty wind could have squeaked between them. Ah, Lily, he thought, eyes closed as he inhaled the sweetly feminine scents clinging to her soft tresses, if only I could—
She bracketed his face with her hands and forced him to meet her eyes. “They’re eating up all the dessert without us, you know.”
He smiled. What did he care? In his opinion, the sweetest thing ever made was standing right here in his arms. “Probably.”
Hands on his shoulders now, she said, “We’ll be lucky if there are even crumbs left for us.”
“Maybe…”
“Funny, I’m not cold anymore.”
“Me, neither.” But then, he hadn’t been cold to start with.
“Think they’ve even noticed we’re gone?”
“No doubt in my mind. The room temperature likely dropped twenty degrees when you left, ’cause you’re warm as the sun.”
She batted her lashes and gave his chest a playful smack. “Cut it out. You’re gonna make me blush.”
Max studied her face for a quiet moment. He memorized every detail, from the perfectly arched feminine brows to the gently sloping freckled nose to the generous pink lips. Those wonderful, velvety soft lips…
“You planning to kiss me again, or just stand there, staring at my mouth?”
He almost laughed because, once again, she’d read his mind. There wasn’t another woman like her, not in all the world.
“All right, then,” she said, tucking in one corner of that tantalizing mouth, “I guess I’ll have to take the bull by the horns.”
She stood on tiptoe and, one hand on either side of his face again, kissed him. Kissed him like she meant it, right down to her toes. It seemed like a fog had descended on him, blotting out rational thought, blocking common sense. He struggled to work his way out of it, so he could tell her with words that she was the answer to his every prayer.
Prayer? That brought him back to the Land of the Thinking, because Max hadn’t prayed in years. He ended the dizzying contact, held her at arm’s length. She looked so starry-eyed that he had to fight the impulse to kiss her again. “You just saved me a ton of empty calories,” he said, his voice gravelly and gruff, even to his own ears. So he cleared his throat and smiled. “My waistline thanks you.”
She only stood there, blinking, a faint smile shining in her eyes.
“Guess we’d better get back inside, before your father sends Obnoxious out here to tear my throat out.”
Lily laughed. “Obnoxious is quite literally all bark and no bite. You’re safe as a babe in his mother’s arms with that pup.”
Max stood beside her, draped an arm over her shoulders. “Looks like rain.”
“Mmm…”
“Hope it won’t be the thunder and lightning kind. Nate is terrified of storms.”
She was quiet for a minute, and then she said, “Well, I have a feeling you handle that just as well as you handle everything else.”
He opened the door, held it for her. The girl sure is good for what ails a man, Max thought as she stepped into the foyer. In the weeks he’d been back in Amarillo, she’d awakened emotions in him he’d forgotten existed. It amazed him that some good-lookin’ dude hadn’t come along, snapped her up, made her his bride.
He closed the door harder than he’d intended, bristling at the thought of Lily married to another man, having his kids, sharing his life.
“What’s wrong?”
Max looked at her. “Wrong? Nothing. Why?”
“Well, you look so—” she frowned, searching for the right word “—a cross between horrified and furious.”
That pretty well described it, all right. “Ate too much, that’s all.”
“So you really don’t want dessert? Georgia told me your favorite sweet treat is Dutch apple pie.”
Lily looked downright disappointed, which meant she’d baked one, just for him. Max’s heart melted at the realization that she’d sought out yet another way to show him she cared. It wasn’t her fault, was it, that all his life he’d pretended to love the stuff rather than hurt his mother’s feelings? “Well,” he said, holding his thumb and forefinger an inch apart, “maybe just a small slice.” Max patted his stomach. “Any more and I’m liable to explode.”
Her exquisite face brightened and her voice went back to its usual melodic tones. “Sounds like everyone has retreated to the family room. Go on in and make yourself comfy while I get it for you.” She headed for the corner of dining room, where no fewer than a dozen delectable treats lined the sideboard. “Go on,” she said, motioning him onward. “I’ll be right in.”
Just like that, she was out of sight. Max thought he knew how Noah must have felt when God turned off the sun and started the clouds to raining on the sinful earth, because she’d taken the warmth and brightness with her.
You must be crazy, Max told himself, not snapping her up yourself, years ago. Wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it, dozens of times. All he needed to do was head back to Texas, make sure he ran into her, start up where they’d left off. So many times, he’d almost asked his mother how Lily was doing—if she’d fallen in love, married, started a family. Hearing that news would have cut like a saber, so he hadn’t asked. Nothing could have surprised him more than learning none of those things had happened. Any man would consider himself blessed to have her as his wife!
Blessed? What was with him today, he wondered, remembering that minutes ago, he’d thought about prayer.
Not so surprising, really, that he’d have heavenly things on his mind. In his opinion, Lily was his own personal messenger from God.
Chapter Eight
Max took the only seat left in the family room, beside Lamont. The man was impressive in so many ways that he could be downright intimidating, and Max had never been sure—not as a boy and certainly not now—whether Lamont meant folks to read him that way.
Behind his back, people sometimes called Lamont “John Wayne,” not for his rolling gait, but for his tough, no-nonsense way of communicating. That style had commanded the respect and admiration of bankers and cowboys alike—and had helped make Lamont London one of the wealthiest men in the Texas Panhandle.
Years ago, Max had walked into the barbershop just as Lamont was leaving. “Now, the
re’s a man y’don’t want to cross,” said one man. “They don’t call him The Griz for nothin’,” said another. Months later, Max saw with his own eyes what they’d been talking about when Lamont lit into a cashier for short-changing him and denying it.
Max wondered which of Lamont’s daughters had inherited his fiery temper. Definitely not Lily, and from what he could see, not Cammi, either. Left to decide between the twins, Max would choose Violet over Ivy. He looked at her now, perched on the arm of the sofa nearest her date, arms crossed over her chest, chin up and left eyebrow raised as she surveyed the goings-on in the room, while Cammi and Ivy giggled and chattered, like a couple of cartoon chipmunks.
Better watch it, bud, he warned himself. These people could be your in-laws some day.
Max almost laughed out loud at the thought. He’d shared, what, half a dozen kisses with Lamont’s youngest girl? Even if Lily was, in his opinion, perfect, enchanting, a gift, they were a long way from marriage.
Right?
He did some surveying of his own in the London family room.
Max supposed Robert had felt the same unease before asking Georgia to marry him. Reid likely had experienced some angst before proposing to Cammi. Even Lamont appeared ready to take the plunge…but hadn’t.
He may not yet have popped the question, but could that be far off? Because something major had changed about Lamont in the years Max had been away, and he suspected Nadine Greene had everything to do with it. Lamont laughed at Nadine’s jokes, looked long into her eyes, clung to her every word—and she mirrored the loving, affectionate behavior. A far cry from the growly, grumpy man who’d earned the nickname “The Griz”!
If love could tame a man like Lamont, Max knew he didn’t stand a chance.
But…did he want a chance?
He’d been thinking wacky, crazy thoughts since coming back to Amarillo, things like how great life would be with Lily, and what a terrific wife and mother she’d be.
Then again, when Lily had pointed out that Georgia and Robert would be happy together, he’d raised her hackles with his “grass is greener” remark.
