“You’re not lost.”
“I feel like my feet were ripped out from under me during a riptide.”
“You’ll find your footing again.”
“Maybe when I get back home.” To Miami. Back to familiar things. Familiar ways. “What’s your dream?”
“I’m living it.”
She shifted her head to get a better view of his face. “Really? Wearing a uniform, arresting people, rescuing cats from trees?”
“Having a career I can be proud of. One with job security. Working on my pension so I can afford to eventually retire. Owning a home. Helping people. Saving enough that if my parents need help later in life, I can do that.”
Amanda faked a yawn. “Sounds exciting.”
Max shook his head. He gazed down into her face, studying her. “You’re young yet.”
“I’m twenty-eight.”
“Age is just a number. You are young; in a few years you’ll get what I’m saying.”
“I don’t know. Doesn’t sound like my kind of life.”
He took a deep breath. “Right.” He looked at his watch. “Shit. It’s one a.m. I need to get some sleep.”
Amanda yawned. For real this time. “Yeah, me too. I used to stay out all night, but now I couldn’t do it if I tried. Greg gets me up so early. My ass is going to be dragging in the morning.”
She sat up and straightened her clothes before sliding out of the passenger-side door.
“I’ll see you around, Officer Bryson.”
“Hey,” he called to her.
“Yeah?”
“Stay out of trouble.”
“Why? I now have an ‘in’ at the local police department.” With a wink, she slammed the door shut and ran into the house.
Chapter Eight
“The best home cooking is passed down through generations.”
“Well, there aren’t any good cooks in my family tree,” Amanda told Mary Ann as they stood in the Amanda’s kitchen.
“Nonsense. I can’t believe that your mother never taught you anything in the kitchen.”
“If you met her, you wouldn’t even wonder.”
Mary Ann bit into one of the cookies still on the plate, which had been carelessly tossed on the counter after Amanda’s return from the neighbor’s. “Oh dear.”
She ripped a paper towel off the roll, carefully spitting out the mouthful. She wadded it up and tossed it in the garbage.
Amanda grimaced. She thought she had improved at least a little bit, especially since she stopped burning them after the first few dozen. Hence the desperate phone call to Max’s mom. But Mary Ann’s expression just proved it; Amanda was hopeless in the kitchen.
“Oh, sweetie, it’s not that bad. Okay, well, it’s not that good either. But it was a good try. You just need a little…uh, maybe a lot…of guidance. I’m so glad you called me. Now we get to spend some time together. I want to get to know you so much better. Especially since you’re seeing my son.”
“Well, we’re not really—”
The older woman waved a hand at her. “Okay, we’d better get started. We have a lot of work to do.”
They dug through all the cookbooks that Amanda had not only found in the house but also the stack of books she had bought at the church sale. The sale where Mary Ann had run into her and was kind enough to offer to help her learn to cook. If she needed it. And clearly she did.
The first lesson didn’t even involve heat, fire, or anything burning. Mary Ann sat with Amanda to go through her extensive cookbook collection, pointing out easy recipes to try, explaining techniques that were involved, telling her more about some of the ingredients, and showing her the difference between cooking utensils.
The time flew, but there was so much to learn that Amanda’s head started to ache. Mary Ann wanted to concentrate on baking first, but Amanda begged her to teach both cooking and baking at the same time so she could cook healthy meals for Greg. Mary Ann reluctantly relented and decided that each time they got together, whether here or on the farm, she would teach Amanda one dish and one baked good.
Amanda did know how to brew coffee, and she did so while they sat at the kitchen table mulling over future recipes.
Late in the afternoon, both were burned out. Amanda took a sip of the steaming-hot java. “Do you know your initials spell Ma? Mary Ann. M.A.”
Mary Ann chuckled, reminding Amanda of her son. “Of course, I knew that.”
“So, can I call you Ma for short? Would you mind?”
“Sweetie, I don’t mind at all. I’d love it. You call me whatever you’d like.” Mary Ann sighed and looked sightlessly over her mug. “I’ve always regretted not having a daughter. I just couldn’t risk having another son. Three was enough. I told Ron that if he got me pregnant again, I’d castrate him myself. He was always such a randy man. Still is. And his sons are just like him. God help the women they choose. Hardheaded, harebrained—” She stopped abruptly as if suddenly remembering who she was with. “Oops, I should be pointing out his good points. I’m never going to get them married off if I tell the truth.” Mary Ann laughed so hard she had to set her coffee down. “Well, I’ve got to get home and make my man some dinner. He gets pretty cranky if he doesn’t get his supper on time.” Mary Ann pushed away from the table and stood.
“I can’t thank you enough for this.”
“Not a problem. Why don’t we just plan on meeting in a couple days? I’ll give you some homework.” She pushed two open cookbooks toward Amanda. “Have these two recipes ready for next time. We’ll see how you do.”
“Thanks, Ma.”
After Mary Ann left, Amanda sat back. Her heart sang with delight. It felt really satisfying to spend time with Max’s mother.
She had a feeling Max wasn’t going to like the idea.
But then who was going to tell him?
The jingling of the bells followed her into the salon. Teddy looked up from the head he was washing and gave her a big smile.
“Hey, girlfriend.”
“Hey, yourself.”
He stuck out his lower lip in a mock pout. “Why so gloomy?”
“Bored to tears. Did I tell you that Mrs. Bryson is teaching me how to cook?”
Teddy raised a brow. “I think you left that one out.”
“Yeah, and I’m not doing too badly, either, but…you can only spend so much time in the kitchen.”
“So why not get a job?”
“Dealing with Greg is a job.”
“No, seriously. Something part-time, something to keep you busy while he’s at day care. I’d hire you, but I don’t have enough clients. Now if the barbershop down the street ever closed, I’d probably be swamped and would need your help washing heads.”
Amanda wrinkled her nose. “Yuck. I’m not washing people’s hair.” She looked at the older woman whose head he was scrubbing in the sink. “No offense.”
The woman huffed her displeasure.
“Not good enough for you?” Teddy asked.
Amanda ignored that. “I just need to have some fun.”
“That Bryson buck not keeping you busy enough?”
Amanda flushed as Teddy’s client lifted her head a little, just enough to make sure she didn’t miss any of the latest gossip.
Amanda turned away to look at herself in a nearby mirror. “I don’t know what you are talking about. Someone must have given you some bad information.”
“Yeah. Whatever.” He rinsed out the lady’s blue hair. “Did you enjoy Egypt?”
“Egypt? I didn’t go to Egypt.”
“Oh, I thought you took a trip down denial.”
Amanda turned away again to hide her laughter but realized that her image was reflected all over the shop. She stuck out her tongue at him, making him laugh.
“Go sit in that chair over there. I’ll be done with Mrs. Anderson’s hair in a flash. Then we can have a deep conversation. I don’t have another appointment for forty-five minutes.”
A deep conversation. All he woul
d be doing is digging at her until she broke down and did a Catholic-like confession. “Oh Father, I have sinned…”
And he’d be lapping up every word of her “sins” like a kitten at a platter of cream. Not one drop would be wasted; he’d be licking his whiskers clean.
Amanda bit her lip at the imagery and wandered over to the waiting area.
No matter what, she was glad Teddy was here in Manning Grove. He kept her grounded, if that was possible. And neatly groomed. He always experimented on her with hair and makeup, giving her manicures and pedicures whenever he needed a guinea pig.
She sank into one of the upholstered chairs that looked like they dated back to the 1950s. Yesterday’s newspaper had been thrown on a pile of hairstyle magazines, which teetered precariously on a glass-and-chrome table. She snagged the paper and began to thumb through it. The want ads were pitiful.
A waitress needed for the diner. No.
A volunteer needed for the library. No.
A “lunch lady” needed for the elementary school. No way!
Amanda sighed. She didn’t really need to work. She also didn’t want to take away a job opportunity from someone else, since jobs were hard to come by around here. And learning to cook was filling up some of her time, but still…
She scanned the rest of the meager paper, and an ad caught her eye.
Crazy Pete’s Bar.
Karaoke from 8-11 Wednesday nights. Ladies Night Mondays. Happy Hour—drinks half-price on Tuesdays. Wings and a bucket of beer special all day on Friday, New Year’s Eve.
New Year’s Eve. That was today.
Boy, she could use a night out to get that “Bryson buck” off her mind.
As soon as Teddy was done with Mrs. Anderson, he escorted the woman out the door, then came over and dropped himself in the chair next to Amanda with a sigh.
“That woman’s impossible. I tell her that a blue rinse is soooo out-of-date. She doesn’t care. People are so behind the times here. But if it weren’t for the old ladies in this town, I wouldn’t have enough business. If there were more young people, then I’d—”
“Where’s this Crazy Pete’s? What other bars are around here?”
Teddy gave her a worried look. “Crazy Pete’s? It’s the only bar in town and, believe me, that one is all that’s needed. It’s over on Third Street.”
“Want to go celebrate the New Year in with me?”
Teddy gave her a skeptical look. “It isn’t Pete who’s crazy, it’s you! You expect an openly gay man to go to Crazy Pete’s? No, thank you.”
“Is it that bad?”
“Girlfriend, when I drive by, I don’t even make eye contact with anyone coming out of there.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Yes, but I’m still not going. I have a date with that cute Ryan Seacrest.”
Max’s previous multiple warnings of “stay out of trouble” bounced through her head.
“Well, I am. I need to check out the nightlife around here.”
“Honey, there’s more nightlife out in the woods.”
She jumped up. “Let’s do my hair and nails.”
Teddy clapped his hands in excitement. “Now you’re talking sense. A manicure coming right up. I’ll do you, if you do me!”
They both fell over each other in a fit of giggles.
After leaving the salon, Amanda picked Greg up early from the day care. She needed to talk to Donna anyway.
When she stepped through the facility’s doors, it reminded her of the first time she met her brother. And how scared she had been; not that she was completely full of confidence now.
She spotted Donna behind the front desk; she looked up in surprise from shuffling some paperwork. Amanda went over.
“Amanda, it’s so good to see you. How have you been dealing with Greg? I had expected to get numerous calls from you. Actually I had expected you to be calling me every hour on the hour.” The woman laughed, giving Amanda a genuine smile.
Amanda returned the gesture. “I’m sure you did. But we’re doing fine. I’m learning things as I go.” And trying not to poison him with my cooking, she added silently.
“Boy, does Greg just love you. He talks about you all the time.”
“He does?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And does he say nice things?”
Donna laughed again. “Yes. I’m glad things are working out for him. I was afraid there for a while.” She took a deep breath. “So, you’re just here to pick up Greg? He’s in the back room having a snack.”
“Yes. But really, I had a favor to ask of you. I’m wondering if there is someone you could recommend to stay with Greg when I can’t be home.” She didn’t want to say babysitter since Greg was hardly a baby and she wasn’t sure if it was the right term to use.
“Like a sitter?”
Amanda sighed in relief. “Yes, exactly.”
“Well, there’s Joni. She’s just a few years younger than you, and she works here part-time. So she knows Greg and Greg knows her. I’d say she’d be perfect. She could probably use the extra money also.”
“Great. Is she here?”
“No, not today due to the holiday. Let me give you her phone number.” Donna grabbed a nearby Rolodex and flipped through it. “Here it is.” She scribbled a number on a pad and ripped off the sheet to hand it to Amanda.
“Thank you. I’ll call her right now.” Amanda pulled her cell phone out of her bag.
“I’ll get Greg ready to go while you’re doing that.”
Within a couple minutes Amanda had Joni set up to stay with Greg that night. She was going out. She was going to have a good time and no one—not even someone who wore a blue uniform and whose initials were M.B.—was going to stop her.
Chapter Nine
If drool wasn’t running down the chin of every man in the bar, Max would be surprised.
He wiped his own.
Max lifted the beer bottle to his lips, the cool liquid slithering down his throat. Unfortunately, it did nothing to lower his body temperature.
“Damn!” His brother swore next to him as he knocked Max with his elbow. “Have you hit that yet?”
Marc was staring at exactly what he was staring at—Amanda Barber in a short, short—very short—skirt bent over a pool table attempting to make a nearly impossible shot. The solid green ball went into the corner pocket. She hooted, shifted, then bent over the table again.
Max swore he could hear the reply of silent “hoots” from all the men there. All the bar stools were turned to face the pool table. Actually, he thought he heard some sighs and groans from along the crowded bar as the little red leather skirt eased its way up her thighs. Higher, higher…
For cripes sakes! He hoped she was at least wearing panties.
Someone stepped behind her, placed a hand on her hip, and leaned over her. Seemingly to give her some good advice. Shit. Like she needed advice; she had been doing well enough on her own. Everybody in the bar could see that!
Max slammed the now empty beer bottle on the bar behind him and let out a curse. Marc glanced at him sideways. The knowing look he got from his brother made him even more annoyed.
He watched as Amanda took the advice with a smile on her lips. She must have made a funny comment because the “helpful” man laughed—a little too loudly—in response.
Amanda missed the shot.
So much for the help.
Max watched Amanda tactfully slip away from the guy’s big, assertive paws.
Marc hastily rose from his stool to step in front of Max, effectively blocking his view. “Brother, don’t do anything stupid. You have been drinking, and the last think you want is to lose your job.” Marc waited until his brother looked at him. Not without obvious impatience. “And you…we are the law in this town. We must lead by example, not get into bar fights. It’s not worth it.”
Max grunted in response as he snagged the fresh beer the bartender slid in front of him. He pushed around his brother
and stepped over to the pool table. Amanda was leaning on her pool stick, watching her new acquaintance take a shot.
“Who’s your friend?”
Amanda lifted her shoulders slightly. She looked over at her opponent sideways. “What was your name?”
A hurt expression flashed over the guy’s features before he answered, “Jack.”
Amanda turned back to Max and repeated, “Jack.”
“Known him long?”
“Oh, about”—she glanced at the neon-trimmed Budweiser clock that hung above the bar—“an hour?”
Max turned his attention to Jack. “Where ya from, Jack?”
“Parsington.”
“Parsington?” No wonder he didn’t know the guy. He knew everyone in town; that was his job. “What are you doing here?”
Jack slowly and carefully laid the cue stick on the table and turned to give Max his full concentration. “Last thing I heard was this here was a free country.”
Max leaned close to Jack, getting in his face. “Listen, Jack—”
An abrupt clearing of a throat made him realize he was royally fucking up right now. He straightened and backed up a step. But he kept his eyes narrowed and focused on the man in front of him.
Jack put his palms up in front of his chest and backed up a step. “Hey, I haven’t done anything wrong. It is perfectly legal to have a drink with a pretty lady.”
Amanda stepped between them, glaring at Max. “You’re right, Jack. It isn’t illegal to have a drink with a woman—and thank you for the compliment.” She gave the other man a big smile. Then turned back to Max.
“Can I have a word with you?” When Max hesitated, she added firmly, “Like right now?” She tilted her head toward a quiet corner in the dimly lit bar.
When she walked away, Max had no doubt that he was to follow her. No matter what. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
He watched her tight, supple ass sway in that short skirt as she walked with determination. And he was sure he wasn’t the only one appreciating the view. He didn’t even want to turn his head to confirm it. He was trying to control his temper enough already.
Brothers in Blue: The Complete Trilogy: Brothers in Blue Boxed Set - Books 1-3 Page 9