The well-built man reached out to give her a great big bear hug. Amanda yipped as she felt her ribs tighten.
“Pop! Pop! Put her down.” With the same exact stride, Max came off the porch, following his father to the car.
When Pop Bryson dropped her to the ground, she grabbed Max’s arm for support. Marc jogged down the front steps to join them. “Pop, are you molesting the guest?”
Amanda finally got her breath back and popped open the trunk. “Good. You guys can help me carry the presents in.”
The three peered into the back of the car. It was jam-packed with brightly wrapped boxes.
Pop exclaimed, “You didn’t need to bring us gifts, girl!”
Amanda blushed. “I didn’t. They are for Greg. I wanted him to have gifts to open while everyone else is opening theirs.”
“Don’t you worry about that, girl. He’ll have plenty of gifts. Now you just get yourself inside and warm up. Leave the heavy lifting to us men.”
She did so gladly, even though none of the packages were heavy.
Her senses flooded as she stepped inside. The crisp scent of pine from the enormous fresh tree that sat in the front room blended nicely with the unmistakable smell of a turkey roasting in the oven. A soft glow of candles lit up the room. She looked at them with worry. She’d have to make sure Greg didn’t knock them over, either burning himself with hot wax or torching the house down. She was shocked to realize that she was thinking like a mother with a small child—a child who was very curious and always into things.
A tinkle of laughter floated through the room, interrupting her thoughts. Amanda heard Greg’s squeals mixed in. She followed the sound into the warm kitchen. She was relieved to see a handsome woman in her midfifties—not a beautiful young wife for Max—standing next to Greg. The woman was showing him how to baste the turkey. She was patiently holding his squirming hand steady, so he wouldn’t squirt the hot juices anywhere but where they belonged.
“Okay, now step back and let me stick Tom Turkey back into the oven. He’s got some time to go yet.”
“Tom.” Greg mimicked. “Yummy!” Greg spun and spotted Amanda. “’Manda! We’s going to eat Tom.”
“I see that. Tom looks good.”
“Yummy! Yummy in my tummy.” He rubbed his belly while doing a little jig, then laughed at his own goofiness.
The older woman stepped forward. After wiping her hands on a dish towel, she extended one. “I’m Mary Ann.” She gave Amanda a warm smile. “And I’m sure you’ve met Ron.”
Amanda rubbed her ribs. “Yes, he, Marc, and Max came out to greet me. They look a lot alike.”
Mary Ann sighed. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Or should I say bushel of apples? Cursed…oops, I mean blessed with three boys. All look like Ron. Lucky for them, their father is a handsome man.” She waved Amanda into a chair at the old plank-topped table, and she settled across from her. “Not only do they look like him. They all act like him. Stubborn. Possessive. Fiercely loyal. Did you know Ron is a retired cop? He worked on the same force they all work on now. For thirty years! Heck, Ron’s father was killed in the line of duty as a police officer. It’s in the blood.”
Amanda remembered the picture she had seen hanging at the police station. It made sense now. That had been Max’s father.
“You haven’t met Matt yet. He’s home, at least for now. He’s a jarhead. Again, they all were. Do you know what a jarhead is?”
Amanda didn’t even attempt to answer; she just shook her head instead.
“A Marine. He’s in the reserves, but originally he was sent over to fight in the Middle East. He’s home for the holidays, but they’ll be shipping him back overseas again in a couple weeks for who knows what. I just hope his tour is over soon and he comes home permanently. A mother can’t help but worry.”
“Mother!” An even younger version of Max, Ron, and Marc entered the kitchen. His very familiar eyes pinned Amanda to her seat. He looked to be about her own age.
“Well, can you blame me, Matt? I fretted while each of your brothers served. Why shouldn’t I with you? Especially being over there in one of those godforsaken countries.”
“Come on, Mom.” Matt barked. “I’m only home for a short time. Let’s not ruin it.”
“Well, I wish you boys would just settle down and get married and give me some grandchildren.”
A collective groan was heard from the other room. Amanda stifled a laugh. Mary Ann sniffed, throwing the dish towel on the table. She grabbed Greg by the hand. “Come on, my boy. Let’s go open presents.”
“Yes, presents. Lots of presents!” he crowed.
“The best present a mother could get is a few weddings and…”
The roars of “Mother!” deafened the room once more.
MAX WATCHED GREG rip the colorful wrapping paper off yet another present with enthusiasm. Greg’s attention span was short; as soon as he started opening a new gift, he forgot what he had previously opened. But he was going home with a nice take.
Max remembered when he was a boy, wishing for certain gifts. His parents usually got him exactly what he had wanted—within reason, of course. Now he knew where all those letters to Santa went—in his father’s pocket when Ron went Christmas shopping. His parents had always found a way to never disappoint their sons, even though they had never been rich.
Love had always been more important in the Bryson home than money. It still was.
His father lounged in his favorite recliner, trying to keep both eyes open but occasionally losing the fight. His mother was hovering over Amanda and Greg, her eyes alight with joy as she oohed and aahed over the boy’s endless gifts, exciting Greg all the more. Max could tell his mother enjoyed having a child once again in the house, even though the “child” was in his early twenties.
When he had told his mother that he had invited both Amanda and Greg over for the holiday, Mary Ann had been ecstatic. She had run out immediately to purchase more presents. His mother made no bones about how nice it would be to have another female in the house. She mentioned time and time again how she was sick of being the lone women surrounded by a bunch of hardheaded males.
Max chuckled at the thought. He was suddenly the focus of everyone’s attention.
“Something funny, Brother?” Matt asked. Matt had become way too serious since going overseas. Max hoped he would snap out of it soon. His younger brother had been moody and quiet since his return home.
“No, nothing.” Max was glad something had finally drawn both his brothers’ intense gazes from the attractive woman chatting with his mother.
But it didn’t last long, as Amanda stood to gather the mountain of trash Greg had made from his gift-wrap massacre. All male eyes—including his pop’s—returned to appreciating the tight ass in the short skirt. And when she bent over—
Max coughed sharply, getting his brothers’ attention once more, and scowled purposely at them. He never should have told her to wear that skirt. His mistake.
His mother frowned at the loud noise. “Are you okay, Max? Are you getting sick?” She rushed over to place the back of her hand against his forehead.
Was he okay? Well, if she really wanted to know…
“I’m fine.”
“You feel awfully warm.”
“I don’t think Max is getting sick, Mom,” Marc chipped in, smirking. “There is another reason he’s a bit heated.”
“Oh? What reason?”
“Mother, the fire in here is just a little warm,” Max appeased her.
Amanda straightened from throwing the wrapping paper into the fireplace. “Sorry, I thought you said to throw the paper in the fire.”
Ron slammed his recliner into an upright position, an imposing sound that made all the brothers’ spines straighten out of habit. “You’re fine, girl. You just keeping doing what you’re doing and ignore these…boys.”
Max jumped up before Amanda had the opportunity to bend down again. His strangled “I’ll do it” came
out a little too loudly. He urged her back to the couch. “Have a seat and relax. You’re our guest.”
Ignoring the male laughter in the room, he finished gathering the crumpled paper, tossing it into the blaze. He was briefly mesmerized by the fire’s colors as the paper burned.
“This is the life,” Mary Ann cooed as she settled on the couch next to Amanda. She patted her on the knee. “What a nice holiday. My boys here all together and blessedly healthy. And now one of them actually brought home a girl.”
Max groaned.
Matt grimaced. “Mom, we’re not fifteen.”
“I know. That’s what I’m saying. It’s about time you boys settle down and start thinking about having some chil—”
“Mare, I think I smell something burning,” Ron interrupted quickly.
Mary Ann popped up and rushed with a worried look into the kitchen.
All three brothers simultaneously let out a relieved sigh. Amanda laughed at the obvious discomfort the men had of that subject.
Ron smiled. “You know, boys, sometimes I feel your pain. Anyway, come over here, girl.” He patted the recliner’s arm.
Amanda obediently rose from the couch, and when she neared, Ron wrapped an arm around her waist, giving her a slight squeeze. With his other hand he dug in between the cushion of the recliner’s seat. He pulled out a long black velvet box.
“What do you think of this? Do you think she’ll like it?” He opened the box to reveal a simple but elegant gold necklace with three gems dangling from it in different colors.
“It’s beautiful,” Amanda whispered.
“Each gem represents the birth month of these pigheaded boys.”
“Well, then she will love it.”
Max neared and leaned over Amanda’s shoulder to peer into the box. “Very nice, Pop. When are you going to give it to her?”
“Later, when all the ruckus has died down.” Ron cleared his throat roughly. “When we’re alone.”
“Well, I think that’s very romantic of you,” Amanda answered.
A blush crept over his father’s already ruddy cheeks. Max was stunned. That had to be the first time he’d ever seen his father blush. He met Amanda’s eyes over his father’s head.
“I’ve got something for you.” He grabbed her wrist and drew her out of Ron’s hold, guiding her back to the comfortably worn couch.
“Max, I didn’t get you anything.”
“Doesn’t matter. I didn’t expect anything.”
“But…”
“Do you want some privacy, Max?” Matt cut in.
He frowned at his meddling brothers. He wanted to wipe the ridiculous smirk from Marc’s face. “Look, it’s no big deal.” He went over to the tree to pull a rectangular gift from under the fragrant branches. Max handed her the brightly wrapped present.
Greg squealed with delight upon seeing another unopened present and rushed over to sit beside his sister. “Lemme open…”
“Greg,” Max said patiently. “This one is for your sister. Why don’t you let her open it?”
Greg answered by sticking out his lower lip.
Marc intervened. “Greg, come over by the fire and show me the new comic books you got.”
Greg grinned and rushed over to Marc, quickly forgetting his sister.
Max would have to remember to thank his brother later—even though it was the least Marc could do for being such a smart-ass. Max sank onto the couch next to Amanda. “Open it.”
Amanda tentatively pulled back the paper to reveal a thick hardcover book. It was a reference book on dealing with intellectually delayed adults.
She looked up and met Max’s eyes. He cursed himself. He was stupid for getting her that gift. He should have gotten her something nicer. More personal. More…
“Real romantic, Max. Way to go,” Matt chimed in acerbically.
“No, it’s nice. Thank you.” Amanda leaned over, bracing a hand on his thigh, and kissed him on the cheek. Her hand lingered just a second longer than was necessary.
Max felt the tightening in his groin and heat where her hand had been. He wanted more than a peck on the cheek or a brush of her hand on his thigh. If his family hadn’t been present, he would have crushed her in an embrace to show her what he really wanted to give her. Damn. That wasn’t a real “holiday” spirited notion.
Mary Ann’s voice broke into his lewd thoughts. “Dinner’s ready!”
Marc led Greg away, and Matt came over, offering his arm to escort Amanda into the dining room. Max continued to sit; he was unable to move until he could gain control of his mind and his body.
Amanda made him horny as hell.
Ron came over and slapped him on the back. “That’s all right, Son. You’ve got all the time in the world to impress that girl. Today just wasn’t the time.”
His father laughed as he strode away.
It was late. Her stomach was painfully full. Greg was dozing off by the fire in his new NASCAR sweatshirt and baseball cap. Amanda wondered if she would ever be able to get him out of those clothes again.
The men had carried the ridiculous number of gifts that Greg had received to the car, then suspiciously all disappeared.
Max stomped the newly fallen snow off his feet as he came back inside. She met him at the front door.
“I brushed off the car and started it so it would warm up.”
“Thanks,” she murmured as he helped her into her faux-fur jacket.
“I can follow you home.”
“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to inconvenience you.”
“It’s not a problem. I’m going home anyway.”
“Oh, you don’t live here?”
Max chuckled and tilted her face up to his. “I haven’t lived with my parents since I was eighteen. I have a house closer to town.” He brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. “I’m glad you came.”
“I am too.”
He pointed to something over her head. She raised her eyes to the infamous mistletoe hanging above her.
She raised her eyebrows. He was going to kiss her? Here? In his parents’ house?
Her eyelids dropped as his head lowered.
Oh yes. He was going to kiss her. No doubt about it.
Her heart pounded.
She shouldn’t let him; her mind was saying it wasn’t a good idea. Her body was saying otherwise.
His warm breath caressed her lips and mingled with hers. She waited. And waited. Her eyelids fluttered back open; the intensity of his ice-blue eyes bored into her. She tried to speak, but he swiftly crushed her lips with his. Angling his head, he ground his tongue with hers. She reached up to grip his shirt.
Oh. Yes.
He drove his fingers into her long auburn waves to pull her even closer. Then as quickly as it began, he pulled away, laying his forehead against hers, both of them panting softly.
That was even better than she’d dreamed.
Amanda unwound her fingers from the shirt fabric, brushing her hand down his broad chest, to his narrow waist and lower… Max grabbed her wrist tightly.
“I’m having a hard time controlling myself as it is.”
She nodded slightly, touched her lips with shaky fingers, then turned away. She left him there and went to wake Greg, bundling him up in his heavy winter coat. Max continued to stand stiffly by the front door, silently watching her as they left. Legs trembling, she stepped out into the snow.
She gripped Greg’s hand to help guide him over the slippery walkway to the car. The moonlight’s reflection off the snow lit their way.
A fierce shiver ran up her spine.
Amanda wanted to think it was from the cold. But she knew better.
Chapter Six
As Amanda drove down the lane, she realized she should have taken Max up on his offer of following her home. It had snowed a little more than she thought. Up until now she had driven in some dustings but not real snow.
When she got out to the main road, she panicked even further. The roads were not plowed. O
r even salted.
She hoped the Buick could make it home. There was no way that she was going to turn around like a wuss and go back to the Bryson house. She would just take her time.
She glanced quickly at Greg before turning her gaze back to the road to concentrate. At least he had fallen back to sleep and wouldn’t be harassing her about her driving.
The ride to the farm earlier in the day had only taken about twenty-five minutes. And here she was at least forty-five minutes later and still wasn’t even close to being home.
Every time the rear end of the car slid she bit back a squeal. She wanted to avoid waking Greg.
Out of nowhere, headlights came up quickly behind her. Close enough to the point of tailgating. The lights were high, like from a truck, and their glare into the rearview mirror hurt her eyes. She wanted to wave the person around her, but she was afraid to take a hand off the wheel.
Then the honking began, making her jump. There was no traffic coming the other way; why didn’t they go around?
The truck pulled around her and up next to her. She took a fleeting glance over.
Max.
She didn’t know if she should be relieved or annoyed. He shouldn’t have scared her like that.
He rolled down his passenger window, and she could barely hear him yelling at her to stop or pull over.
She did. She slammed on the brakes, and the Buick slid ten feet before coming to a stop crookedly in the middle of the road.
Max parked behind her and walked up to the car.
He stood there for a moment, and then when she didn’t move, he tapped on the window with his knuckle.
“Roll down your window.”
Amanda released the painful grip on the steering wheel to push the power window button.
He leaned into the window. “What are you doing?”
She gave him a look. “It’s not obvious? I’m going home.”
“You were driving five miles an hour.”
“Oh.”
“Amanda, there is only an inch of snow out here.”
“Really?”
She heard his chuckle. She didn’t think it was funny. Only an inch? It had seemed like a foot. Shit.
Brothers in Blue: The Complete Trilogy: Brothers in Blue Boxed Set - Books 1-3 Page 6