by Cindy Kirk
He tilted his head, thought for a moment. “I don’t think so.”
“Isn’t Gladys co-chairing the parade with you?”
He offered a sheepish smile. “Oh, yeah, that’s part of the deal, too.”
“So many tasks, so little time,” she murmured, then lifted her gaze. “I’m willing to dive into all of this, but I need something from you.”
“Tell me what you need.” Max stared into those beautiful hazel eyes. Whatever she wanted, it was hers.
Her lips curved as if sensing how far he was willing to go. She said nothing for several heartbeats, and his heart began to hammer.
Then she extended her hand. “Be my backup babysitter.”
Max felt a surge of disappointment, though he wasn’t sure why. He reached out and closed his hand around hers, smiled. “Deal.”
Chapter Five
Prim rolled her shoulders, then followed the move with a cross stretch. Last night she’d had difficulty settling. She blamed the restlessness on too much caffeine. Her tossing and turning certainly couldn’t be the result of THE KISS she’d shared with Max.
The brief melding of their mouths had been too brief to stir up such intense . . . longings.
“Throw the ball, Mommy,” Connor called out, punching his small fist into the pocket of his glove. “I’m ready.”
Saying a little prayer, Prim gave her best MLB pitcher imitation and flung the ball at him. She grimaced as it curved to the right, so far out of reach her son didn’t even try to catch it.
Then he was scrambling after it, his skinny legs churning.
Callum, who’d already run after his share of overthrown balls, merely watched as his brother passed him. Standing on a decorative boulder between her property and Max’s with his eyes squinted, he reminded Prim of a sea captain at the bow of a ship. He pointed. “Is that Mr. Brody’s wife?”
Startled, Prim turned to see an attractive, dark-haired woman standing on the porch of Max’s home. Decked out in a white dress covered with red, saucer-size poppies, the brunette’s attire was definitely a step above Max’s T-shirt, cargo shorts, and hiking boots.
Callum still stood on the rock, studying the woman with the intensity he usually reserved for large, black bugs.
“She has red sparkly shoes,” he announced. “Like in The Wizard.”
Prim adjusted her gaze downward. The woman’s shoes were indeed red and sparkly. Unlike Dorothy’s shoes in The Wizard of Oz, these kicks had three-inch heels. And the legs they were attached to weren’t those of a little girl but the shapely ones of a grown woman; a beautiful, adult woman with lips as bright as her shoes.
“Think she can throw a ball?” Callum asked when his brother returned, the ball clutched tightly in his glove.
“Who?” Obviously confused, Connor glanced around.
“Mr. Brody’s wife.” Callum gestured with one hand toward Max and the woman.
“Mr. Brody isn’t married.” Prim tried to place the visitor but came up empty. “She’s probably just a friend.”
Friend with benefits?
Prim shoved aside the disturbing image of Max and the statuesque beauty with hair the color of rich walnut and legs up to her neck, naked. In bed. Together.
At the moment, the two stood a respectable distance from each other. Prim wondered if Max would kiss her good-bye. She expelled the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding when he merely extended his hand. The woman laughed, gave it a shake, and flashed a brilliant smile.
Once the brunette’s roadster disappeared from sight, Max turned. His gaze met Prim’s and her heart stuttered.
Prim returned his smile and lifted her hand in a friendly wave.
Apparently taking the polite gesture as invitation, Max sauntered over. The first thing she noticed was that his shirt—advertising last year’s 5K Spring Color Run—made his eyes look as blue as the walls in Muddy Boots, her brother-in-law’s café. The second was those eyes held more than a hint of amusement.
When his gaze dropped to her mouth, she felt a punch. Prim moistened her suddenly dry lips with her tongue and forced herself to breathe. As their gazes remained locked, her heart began to thud against her ribs.
Not until Callum shoved his brother against her did the fog lift. She stumbled and might have fallen without Max stepping forward.
After shooting Max a grateful smile, Prim whirled on her son. “Callum, how many times have I told you not to shove your brother?”
The boy’s lip jutted out. “He wouldn’t give me the ball.”
“It’s mine.” Connor held the glove protectively against his chest. “Mom threw it to me.”
“She threw it to the sidewalk,” Callum corrected.
“If I’d known there was baseball action going on in the neighborhood, I’d have brought my glove.” Max rocked back on the heels of his battered boots and shot Prim a wink. “You know how I feel about playing.”
She’d loved watching Max on the baseball field. He always gave one hundred percent, whether it was fielding a pop fly, solving a difficult equation . . . or kissing her with a sweet tenderness that took her breath away.
Heat flooded her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “You still play?”
“Second base for the Hawks,” Max said, referring to Good Hope’s amateur team.
The boys exchanged a glance.
“You could get your glove,” Callum suggested. “We can wait.”
His brother nodded. “Yeah, we can wait.”
Max appeared to be hiding a smile when he turned to Prim. “The glove is in my garage.” He angled his head. “I could have them get it for me?”
“That’s fine.” Her heart did a slow roll. He actually wanted to play catch with her boys. “I’ll be able to see them from here.”
Max looked from one twin to the other. “My glove is hanging on the garage wall. It’s not far up. You should be able to reach it.”
“I can jump high,” Connor told him, his thin face serious.
“I can jump even higher,” Callum boasted.
“No jumping necessary.” Max slipped the phone from his pocket, tapped a couple of buttons. The garage door slowly rose.
“I’ll get it.” Excitement reverberated through Callum’s voice. The words had barely left his lips when he took off running.
“He was looking at me,” Connor protested, sprinting after his brother.
“You don’t have to play ball with them.” Prim touched Max’s arm. “I’m sure you’ve lots to do.”
“Have you forgotten I was Good Hope High’s standout second baseman?” His teasing tone had her relaxing. “Baseball and I, we go way back. In fact, she was my first love.”
Prim realized she was staring at his mouth and lifted her gaze to those amazing blue eyes. “I thought your first love was math.”
“Anytime you fall in love with something new it’s a first time.” Something she couldn’t quite decipher flickered in those liquid blue depths. He cleared his throat. “You know what I recall about those days? You cheering in that short skirt.”
She tilted her head. “Were you looking at my legs, Mr. Brody, when you should have been keeping your eyes on the ball?”
“Guilty as charged.” His lips lifted in a slow smile.
Prim’s blood turned to warm honey. The yearning became an ache. Though she told herself to look away, her eyes remained locked on his. “I was the worst one on the squad.”
Max didn’t bother to dispute the assessment, which only confirmed she’d been right. “I never understood why you did it.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I wasn’t the type.”
“Cheerleading—” He paused as if searching for the right words. “Just never seemed in your wheelhouse.”
He was right. While Fin and Marigold loved performing, for her being in front of crowds had been pure torture.
“My mother was big on us girls trying everything from dance to cooking to cheer. I tried out the year my mom was diagnosed with cancer.” Prim
swallowed hard against the sudden lump in her throat. How odd that after all this time, the fear and grief of those days could appear out of nowhere, the pain just as swift and intense as it had been back then. “I knew it would make her happy to see that I was willing to at least try out. Never in a million years did I think I’d make the squad.”
“You brought elegance and grace to the field,” he said gallantly.
“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re being way too kind.”
“Not at all.” Max waved aside her protests. “In addition to elegant and graceful, you’re smart and kind and beautiful. You, Primrose Bloom, are a rare blossom.”
It was obvious by the way he pressed his lips together that he’d said more than he’d planned. But the sweet words lingered in the air.
His eyes were dark as midnight, and, as she stared into their depths, Prim forgot how to breathe. She forgot how to think. She forgot why she should keep her distance.
The loud chatter of a squirrel perched on a tree branch, the strong scent of lilac from the row of bushes across the street, all disappeared.
All she knew was him. All she wanted was him. Her heart agreed, pounding out a primitive rhythm.
Kiss him. Kiss him. Kiss him.
As if he heard the seductive beat, Max stepped closer until he was right. There.
Her heart was a sweet, heavy mass in her chest.
Max held out a hand to her as if asking her for . . . something.
Prim held her breath and waited. For what, she wasn’t sure, but the moment seemed important, monumental even. Almost as if the years that had passed had fallen away, and they were being given another chance to be—
Callum’s voice echoed across the yard. “I got it!”
Max’s hand dropped to his side.
Prim hid her disappointment behind a Mona Lisa smile.
The twins raced toward them, Max’s glove held high in the air as if it were an Olympic torch. They came to a skidding stop directly in front of Max.
“Good job.” Max grinned and took the glove, slipping it on, then giving the pocket a punch. “Now, let’s have some fun.”
Prim rested her back against the solid oak and watched her boys soak up Max’s undivided attention.
He lobbed the ball straight to Callum, the move so slow and easy Prim was sure she could have caught it.
The ball wobbled in the pocket, but Callum gripped it tightly, a big smile spreading across his face when the glove fully encased it.
“Toss it back to me.”
The boy did as Max instructed. Though it veered to the side, Max easily snagged it from the air. “Good throw. You have a strong arm.”
Callum beamed.
Despite her son’s often-cocky bravado, Prim knew he wanted so much to please. They both did. They wanted male approval. Needed it.
Tears filled Prim’s eyes. Rory was missing so much. A pang of regret for what never would be was followed by a hot burst of anger. Had climbing another mountain really been that important?
She shoved aside the ugly thought and refocused in time to see Max gently toss the ball to Connor.
The boy stood in the ready position but his gaze had shifted to Boris. The wolfhound had gotten up from his nap on the porch to put the noisy squirrel on notice with a series of staccato barks.
The ball hit Connor square in the chest, then dropped with a thud to the ground. The boy glanced down, a look of surprise on his freckled face.
Callum hooted.
Prim shot her eldest a warning look while her youngest flushed.
“It’s important to keep your eye on the ball,” Max reminded Connor, his tone kind and almost . . . fatherly.
After thirty minutes of playing catch, Max called a halt.
Prim held up a hand when the boys began to beg. “Tell Mr. Brody thank you, then go inside and wash up for lunch.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brody,” the boys called over their shoulders as they raced to see who would reach the door first.
Prim shook her head and chuckled. “Boys.”
The word said it all.
“They’re great kids.”
“I know.” Prim smiled. “I think I’ll keep them around.”
“I’m going to be coaching a T-ball team through the Y every Wednesday.” Max picked up the ball the boys had left on the ground and tossed it to her. “There may still be a couple of spaces left on the team. Katie Ruth is the contact person.”
“Katie Ruth Crewes?”
“She’s the only Katie Ruth in Good Hope.” Max grinned and tucked the glove under his arm. “She’s the youth activities coordinator. Call her. If you’re interested, that is.”
“Thanks. I’ll definitely consider it.”
Max started to walk away but turned when Prim called his name.
She’d tried to put the brunette out of her mind. She’d tried to tell herself who Max associated with was none of her business. But that was pure malarkey. Max was her neighbor. And a friend. “I didn’t recognize the woman in your driveway. Is she from around here?”
“Her name is Charlotte McCray. And you’re right, she’s not from around here.”
“But she lives here now?”
He hesitated. “Sort of.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Prim raised her hands when he started to speak. “Forget I asked. Not my business.”
“It’s okay.” His mouth relaxed into a slight smile. “She owns Golden Door but also has a salon in Chicago. That’s what I meant by ‘sort of.’ She has an apartment here but spends most of her time in Highland Park.”
Golden Door Salon and Spa.
Though she’d never been inside, Prim was familiar with the pricey salon and day spa that catered to wealthy tourists and residents. “She’s not married. Doesn’t have a family.”
A curious look filled Max’s eyes. “You sound so certain.”
“Two salons. Two states. Two homes. You couldn’t have a family and do all that traveling. It wouldn’t be fair.” The second the words left Prim’s lips, an image of Rory carrying his duffel to the car, ready to take off on another adventure, surfaced. “But then, I could be way off base. Some people don’t care about fair. Some don’t care about the family left behind.”
Prim regretted bringing up the subject, regretted the bitterness she hadn’t been able to keep out of her voice. Whatever problems they’d had in their marriage, Rory was Callum and Connor’s father. Her smile suddenly felt brittle, ready to break in a thousand pieces. “Thanks again for—”
“You were right. Charlotte is divorced.”
There was a beat of silence.
Max leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Though you haven’t asked, I’m her accountant. We’ve gone out once. No kids in the picture. But that kind of goes without saying. I’d never be in a casual relationship with a single mom.”
Prim inhaled sharply, then covered it with a cough. The Max she knew loved children. Seeing him with her sons told her that hadn’t changed. She’d even found herself thinking how nice it would be if . . .
She stopped herself. Not going down that road. No point.
Still, she couldn’t help wondering, couldn’t stop herself from asking the question. “Why no single moms?”
He paused for so long she wondered if he was going to answer.
“You remember how it was at my house.” There was a hesitant quality to his voice.
Prim’s heart pinged. She remembered his mother’s revolving door of men.
“For a long time I thought I was the reason none of them stuck long.” A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I won’t do that to someone else’s kids.”
She understood the do-no-harm mentality, admired the protective streak. That’s why she knew he’d understand her decision. “The potential upheaval dating brings to a child’s life is the reason I won’t date until the twins are out of high school.”
“That’s what you said at the reception.” His inscrutable expression gave no indication
of his thoughts on the matter.
Then again, what had she expected him to do? To say?
Did she really think he’d slap her on the back and tell her it was a wise decision? Had she thought he’d argue and try to change her mind? She wouldn’t have wanted that, not at all.
“I spoke with Eliza this morning.” He glanced at his phone, checked the time. “She said you plan to start entering data today.”
Prim took up the conversational ball, finding comfort in the familiar. “Computerizing the Cherries’ financial records will be a piece of cake. I figure I should be able to get all the data keyed in before dinner.”
Max shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have a few things I need to handle, but I can stop over after lunch, help you get started.”
“I appreciate the offer, but like I said, this is pretty basic stuff.”
“That’s not how Gladys felt.”
“At this stage in her life, Gladys’s heart is with the theater.” Prim lifted her chin. “If I had even half her talent, I’d be focused on the stage, too.”
“Spoken like a loyal friend.”
“Just calling it like I see it.” A self-conscious laugh escaped her lips. “Now, coordinating the parade is a whole different animal. I definitely need you to guide me.”
“You can count on me, Prim.” His steady gaze shot tingles down her spine. “Always.”
Chapter Six
“What did Dad have planned for the boys this morning?” Ami asked, turning around to lock her front door.
Since Hill House, where the Independence Day planning meeting would be held, sat just down the street from her sister’s home, Prim had parked in Ami’s drive and retrieved her sister for the short walk over. Once they reached the home, instead of immediately heading inside they paused on the porch.
“Actually, the boys aren’t with Dad, they’re with Max.” Prim tossed the words out there with all the attention one might give to flicking a piece of lint off a summer dress. A casual disregard that said the twins spending time with Max was no. Big. Deal.
“You and Max are together?” Her sister practically squealed the words. “Of course you’re together. Why else would he be watching the boys? Oh, I can’t wait to tell Beck the good news.”