A Turn in the Road - Debbie Macomber [80]
“I’m glad you’ve relaxed,” she said.
“Actually, I’ve been dreaming about you blowing in my ear.”
“I will as long as you whisper sweet nothings in mine.”
He laughed.
Bethanne chatted as she worked. The more she engaged him in conversation, the more at ease he became. Standing in front of him she examined her work and was pleased with the result so far. As she stepped back, he took her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed her palm. Goose bumps shivered up and down her arms.
Before she was completely sure how it’d happened, she was sitting on his lap and they were deeply involved in a series of kisses. The scissors and comb were forgotten on the deck floor as she twined her arms around his neck.
“We’d better stop,” he whispered.
“You’re right.”
“Personally, I’d rather find out where this will take us.”
She hid her face in the side of his neck. “We already know that.”
“Yes, and it’s becoming more appealing by the minute.” Then, as if drawing upon some inner reserve of strength, he gently pushed her away. “I never appreciated how sensuous it could be to have a woman cut my hair.”
It hadn’t been like this with Grant, she thought, even early in their marriage. She immediately felt guilty for making the comparison.
Resuming her work, she walked around to the back of his head and asked him to tuck in his chin while she clipped the hair at the base of his neck.
“How does it look?” Max asked once she’d finished.
“You’ll have to tell me.” She dug a small mirror out of her purse and handed it to him.
Max opened it and studied his reflection. He seemed surprised at what a good job she’d done. “Wow.”
“Is it okay?”
“It’s great.”
She began to leave to get a broom from the kitchen when he caught her fingers and pulled her close. “I’m going to miss you,” he whispered.
“I’ll miss you, too.” And she would, more than she dared admit.
Max was about to kiss her when the front door opened and a large man in Bermuda shorts walked in. His face instantly lit up in a huge grin. “Max!” he shouted, and started across the house toward the deck.
Max met him halfway and the two hugged and slapped each other on the back.
“Al, this is Bethanne. Bethanne, Al.”
Al nodded at her. “I came as soon as I got the message that you were at the house.”
Twenty-One
Al was a bear of a man, easily six-five or more. He engulfed Max in another hug and then turned to Bethanne.
“Hello,” she said, hardly knowing what to think. “I hope you don’t mind that we invaded your home.”
“Not at all.” He clasped her by the shoulders. “Now, let me take a good look at you.” He smiled down at her, then glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, Max, you got yourself a cutie.”
When he released her, Bethanne nearly stumbled backward.
“I hope you found everything you need,” Al said as he walked into the kitchen. He removed a beer from the fridge and motioned to Max with it, silently offering him one.
Max declined with a shake of his head.
Al pulled back the tab and took a deep swallow. He returned to the living room and sat down on the sofa.
“How’s Sherry?” Max asked.
“She’s doing great,” Al said.
Bethanne assumed the other woman must be Al’s wife but didn’t ask.
Obviously feeling the need to explain, Al looked over at her. “Sherry’s our daughter. Max picked her up hitchhiking three years ago—thank God—and managed to talk some sense into her. Our little girl got hooked on painkillers. We hardly knew her anymore. She stole her mother’s jewelry and hocked it for drug money and was on a downward spiral.”
“I’m glad to hear she’s better,” Bethanne whispered. This was every parent’s nightmare.
“She did a complete turnaround,” Al said. “If it wasn’t for Max picking her up that night I don’t know what would’ve happened to her. How he talked her into going to rehab I’ll never know. Her mother and I begged her over and over but she wouldn’t listen to us.”
“You did that?” Bethanne stared at Max.
“He does that sort of thing,” Al continued.