Brothers in Blue: Max

by St. James,Jeanne

  “No, it isn’t. It’s great. She’s a great mother, and you should be proud of her.”

  “Oh, I am.” Proud that she’d found someone to groom to be his future wife. Proud that she has stuck her nose where it didn’t belong. Hey, that sounded familiar. How many times had Amanda accused him of doing the same? Like mother, like son? He grimaced.

  “She has been spending her spare time teaching me to cook and bake because I asked.” Amanda shook her head. “All I had to do was ask her. And you know what? She was thrilled that I asked.”

  “You could have asked me.”

  “To teach me to cook?”

  “No, damn it. You should have asked me first if I minded my mother—” Max stopped, watching Amanda’s face darken. Oh shit.

  He stood up quickly and caught her arms before he got belted in the mouth. With a sigh, he let her arms go. If she cracked him upside the head, he deserved it.

  He had come over to apologize for being a jerk, and here he was again…being a fucking jerk. It was becoming a pattern for him. One he needed to break.

  “Amanda, I came over here to apologize for the other night. I did it, and now I am apologizing for what I just said. And let me just get this out of the way now: I’m sorry for every asinine thing I do or say in the future. There, that should just about cover it.”

  “If you think a simple apology is going to be a Band-Aid for all our—your problems… Well, it’s not. Your apologies come too little, too late. If you think you can do or say what you want, that you can be bossy, try to control my life, and then just say, ‘I’m sorry’ when you want to get me into bed? And then everything is all right? It doesn’t work that way. It hasn’t. It won’t. It never will.”

  “You know, we need to talk about this more when my mother”—his eyebrows rose—“isn’t twenty feet away in the next room.” He jabbed his finger a few times toward the kitchen.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine what?”

  “We can talk about it later.”

  “Oh.” He wasn’t expecting her to be so agreeable. That was a switch. Wait a minute. There probably was a catch. Or it was a trap. With caution, he asked, “Okay, when?”

  “Tonight. After Greg goes to bed.”

  “When’s that?”

  “Come around nine.”

  Mary Ann peeked her head out of the kitchen. “Max, honey, why don’t you come help us finish up this cake?”

  Panic shot through him. “Got to go, Mom!” he yelled. To Amanda he whispered, “See you at nine.” He took one last look at her “cheerleader” outfit. “Don’t change.”

  Then he bolted; he had to get out the door before he got roped into wearing an apron.

  * * * *

  After making sure Greg was tucked into bed, Amanda stayed a few minutes by his bedside, talking with him until, after a final yawn, he drifted off to sleep.

  Amanda had just descended the stairs when she heard a soft rap on the front door.

  This was one of the few times that she had known beforehand that she was going to see Max, and she had been anxious ever since he had left earlier. In fact, the rest of the velvet cake lesson had pretty much been a waste, as she couldn’t pay attention. Mary Ann had given up and had taken the un-iced cake home to finish it herself.

  Amanda’s pulse raced as she went to let Max in.

  When she opened the door, she stood there mesmerized for a moment. He was wearing a worn—so worn that they were almost white—pair of jeans that fit real nicely. And under his leather jacket, she noticed a snug black T-shirt that she was sure would expose that tattoo—the one that drew her eyes every time. As her inspection moved upward past his broad shoulders, she noticed he hadn’t shaved the five o’clock shadow he had been sporting earlier—and it was damn sexy. The only thing that stopped him from looking like a full-blown rebel was the severe law-enforcement haircut. Not enough hair there to run her fingers through or to grip onto when—

  “Done?” He raised one eyebrow and grinned. “Want me to strip right here on the stoop, or can I come in first?”

  Amanda answered him with a smile and stepped back, but not enough to give him room. He had to turn sideways and brush against her to enter the house.

  “Oh, you’re evil. I’m supposed to be here to talk, Amanda, remember?”

  She shut the door and locked it. “I remember. Let’s go into the sunroom. That way we won’t disturb Greg.”

  As they walked through the kitchen, she nodded her head toward the screened addition. “Go on in. I’ll get us a snack.”

  Within a minute she had thrown some of her cookies onto a plate and carried them into the sunroom.

  Max was sitting relaxed in the love seat, his legs stretched out in front of him, his ankles crossed. He had turned on only one of the table lamps, giving the room a soft radiance. Soft and romantic.

  Amanda shook her head to clear it.

  He looked at the plate hungrily. “Peanut butter?”

  “Yep.”

  “What happened to that red velvet cake you were making earlier?”

  “Your mom took it with her for the ladies at bingo.”

  She didn’t want to tell him that Mary Ann had taken it unfinished, complaining good-naturedly about certain young lovers.

  Before Amanda could even put the plate down on the side table, Max snatched one. He bit into it with enthusiasm. His chewing slowed, and he struggled to swallow. He cleared his throat.

  “These aren’t like the other ones.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, not to be rude, but…uh…they aren’t as good as the ones you brought to the station. New recipe?” He gave her a hopeful look.

  “No…” She caught her lower lip in her teeth, wondering if she should do it. “I have something to confess.”

  A cop. A confession. Max sat up, alert. “Shoot.”

  She had to come clean. “Those cookies…”

  “Yeah?”

  She turned away to hide her guilt. “Well, I didn’t make them.”

  “Oh. So? Big deal.”

  “And…” It wasn’t like she’d intentionally fed him tainted cookies. Right?

  “And?”

  All right, maybe she did, but he’d survived and he never had to know. “Mrs. Busy—Mrs. Myers made them.”

  “Well, they were good. Thanks for sharing them with us.”

  She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t admit to letting him eat cookies iced with dog spit. That secret was going to go with her to her grave. “Sure.” She turned back to face him. “I might not be the best baker yet, but I swear I can make us the best pitcher of Alabama Slammers.”

  He looked up at her in surprise. “You can? You know how to make Alabama Slammers?”

  “Of course. I was a bartender for three years. I was good at it too. It was fun. I worked at a top nightclub. I made some good money. Met some cool people and some celebs too. Plus, the free drinks didn’t hurt either.”

  “I could see you slinging drinks—especially wearing outfits like that. You probably pulled in some nice tips. Do you have the stuff to make Slammers?”

  “Sure. I put a lock on one of the kitchen cabinets. I’ll be right back.”

  As she turned to go, he stopped her. “Amanda, you can take the plate.”

  She picked up the cookies. “Now you know why I asked your mother for help.” And went back into the kitchen.

  Amanda unlocked the makeshift liquor cabinet and pulled out the Southern Comfort, sloe gin, and amaretto.

  She heard his deep voice behind her. “Want help?”

  Amanda turned to see Max leaning a shoulder on the doorjamb between the two rooms.

  “All right. Go in that cabinet over there and get us a couple of big glasses. Oh, before you do that, grab the bin of ice out of the freezer.”

  She pulled the blender away from the wall and plugged it in.

  Max stopped her. “You can’t use that!”

  Amanda laughed. “Oh yeah. Poor Greg, he would
have jumped out of his skin.” Unplugging it, she pushed the appliance back against the wall. She reached into a nearby cabinet and found a shaker. “I’ll just shake them gently.”

  “Shaken, not stirred,” he said in a bad James Bond accent. Max slid the bin of ice next to the shaker. “What else?”

  “Um. I need the lemon juice. It’s in the fridge door.”

  When she was done mixing the concoction, she poured it into a big pitcher and carried it, while Max followed her with two large glasses, into the sunroom.

  He settled back into the love seat while Amanda, after filling their glasses, sat in the rocker across from him.

  Max took a drink. “Now that’s a lot better than those peanut butter cookies.”

  Amanda took a sip. She had to agree. “Mmm. That’s good.”

  They were silent for a few minutes as they savored the drinks and contemplated each other, the alcohol quickly relaxing the both of them. Before she knew it, Max’s glass was drained, and she reached to fill it again. “More?”

  “Sure. Keep them coming. So…” Max’s cool blue eyes pinned her into the rocker. “Did any of those celebs hit on you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “And?” he prompted.

  “And they are like anyone else. They’re human.”

  “From what I’ve seen of them on television, I don’t know if I’d call some of them human.”

  “Call them what you like. I had my fair share of attention.”

  “So you went out with some?”

  “No. I had a boyfriend. Believe it or not, I’m very loyal. In fact, so loyal I consider it a fault.”

  Max frowned. “Why?”

  Amanda just shook her head. “Never mind. I thought we were going to discuss us.” She emptied her glass. The strong alcohol was starting to warm her belly and give her a nice little buzz.

  Max reached out to fill it again. “We were. We are,” he corrected.

  “Okay, so start.” She watched him down his second round of the Slammers. He was clearly struggling with his emotions. Did he need the booze to bolster him to talk about their relationship? If you could call it that.

  Max grimaced and shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Okay, so I’ll start. Look…” She crossed her legs and with one foot put the rocking chair in motion while she tried to organize her thoughts into words.

  Maybe the Alabama Slammers weren’t the best idea. Her thinking was a bit fuzzy. What the hell, here goes…

  “I don’t know if I can deal with your indecisions. I’m having a hard enough time dealing with my own. I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. I don’t know where I’m going to end up. I don’t know what I want to do when it comes to staying here in Manning Grove or heading back to Miami.”

  “So what you’re saying is that you expect me to accept your indecision but you can’t accept mine?”

  “I don’t know. I’m so freaking confused. You frustrate me. My mother is so controlling. I don’t need that in a man.”

  “I can’t help it. That’s me. That’s why I’m a cop. I don’t know if I can ever change that.” He shrugged matter-of-factly. “Genetic makeup, if you will.”

  “Bull. That’s the easy way out. Genetic makeup…please.”

  “So don’t believe me. But believe this…I told you to keep that outfit on. And you did. I think you like it, and you just don’t want to admit it.”

  Was he right? Did she need someone who was controlling in her life at all times?

  “Give me a break. Maybe I kept this outfit on because I didn’t think you were worth changing for.”

  Max chuckled at her blatant lie. He filled his glass for the third time. He emptied the pitcher. “Look, let’s just have a compromise. Another truce? Let’s agree to take it slow and see where this goes.”

  “Another truce?”

  “How about we call it a compromise this time, since we failed at our so-called earlier truce. I promise to try not to be so controlling—”

  “Bossy, overbearing—”

  “Okay, okay. And you give Manning Grove—and me—a chance.”

  “Max, I can’t promise that I will stay in this town. But, how’s this: I won’t say that I am definitely leaving.”

  “Good enough. Now about my mother—”

  “No, that’s not in the ‘compromise.’ I get to spend as much time with your mother as I want.”

  Max leaned back with eyes hooded, his lips pressed together.

  “Max,” Amanda warned. “Do you want to fuck this up before it’s even started?”

  “No. But I want you to discourage her if she starts picking out invitations and cummerbund colors.”

  She tried to appear serious. “Agreed.”

  “If she starts taking you on a three-hour drive to Harrisburg to Babies”R”Us, I want you to escape and head toward the nearest phone to dial 911.”

  Amanda’s lips twitched. “I do have a cell.”

  “And anything we do in private is off limits from her ears.”

  “Deal.”

  “And…”

  “Enough, Max. I get the picture. I won’t tell her how horny you make me. And how you make me cry out when I orgasm.”

  Max’s grin twisted. “Well, you can tell me instead.”

  “Do you want me to make another pitcher?”

  Max shook his head and stretched out a hand. “C’mere. You’re too far away.”

  She studied him a moment before getting out of the rocker and joining him on the love seat. She settled onto his lap. “Better?”

  Max curled his arms around her and pulled her tighter against his chest. “You bet.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder and snuggled her nose into his neck. She could feel his strong pulse against her cheek.

  It felt so good to be in his arms. She circled his tattoo with her finger. Semper Fi. Mary Ann had made sure to tell Amanda that it meant “always faithful.”

  “Did you always want to be a cop?”

  He had one hand on her hip and the other on her thigh, rubbing it slowly back and forth. “Yes.”

  She waited a moment, and when he said nothing further, she prodded. “Why?”

  His deep voice resonated through his chest. “I was always in awe of my grandfather and my father. That’s why I followed in their footsteps. That’s why all three of us did. The Marines first, to serve our country, and then the police department, to serve our community.”

  “To protect and serve, huh?”

  The pride exuded from his words. “It’s the Bryson family motto.”

  She moved her nose up to nuzzle him behind the ear. “Well, you can protect and serve me anytime.”

  “I’d planned to since the minute you bitched me out in that parking lot when you first came to town.”

  She raised her head, pushing herself up with a palm against his chest. “You were only trying to get into my pants.”

  “True…” he said slowly.

  Amanda grabbed a nearby decorative pillow and whacked him.

  “Hey! You didn’t let me finish. True, but when you saw me in my uniform, you just wanted a big ol’ piece of this bad boy.” He opened his arms wide as if offering himself to her.

  Amanda whacked him again. “Yeah, right.”

  “You can’t say you didn’t want this.” He reached out, and his long fingers cupped her face as he leaned in to kiss her. It was only a slight brush, leaving her wanting more.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Would you have kissed me if I had torn up the ticket?”

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “For twenty-five bucks? Get real. I wanted to take out that retractable metal stick you carry and beat you over the head.”

  Max laughed. “You mean my ASP baton?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Only because you were sexually frustrated.”

  “You wish.”

  He poked her side gently. “Admit it.” />
  “No.”

  “C’mon.”

  “Okay. You’re right. I was sexually frustrated because I couldn’t jump your bones right there in the middle of town, in the free parking lot on the pavement amid a bag of spilled dog toys, while Greg looked on. Satisfied?”

  His smile widened. “Yep.”

  “Good. Now kiss me again.” She grabbed the back of his head and pulled it down until their lips were a breath apart. “And do it like you mean it this time.”

  The light peck was easily forgotten as he claimed her mouth with his, crushing her to him. This was what she had been waiting for. She groaned into his mouth, tangling her tongue with his. She felt a twinge and wiggled her hips in his lap, feeling his body harden.

  He pulled back slightly. He ran a finger under the edge of her skintight black pants. “You know, I’ve drunk too much to drive. I guess I’ll have to stay put until I sober up.”

  “Hmm. Maybe I should make another pitcher to make sure it takes you a while to sober up.”

  “Forget it. I want to make sure you remember everything I do to you.”

  “You’re right. I want to make sure you can do everything to me.”

  “So we’re going to seal this new compromise with another kiss?”

  “No, even better…” Amanda unfolded herself from his lap to take his hand and lead him upstairs.

  As the steps creaked underneath him, she whispered, “We need to be quiet.”

  At the top of the stairs, he answered, “I’m not sure that will be possible. You squeal like a pig.”

  Amanda stifled a laugh and poked him in the ribs with her elbow.

  “Ow!”

  “Shh!” She pulled him into the master bedroom and shut the door quickly behind them.

  She leaned against the door and watched him rub his ribs. His fingers were long and strong, and she knew what they could do to her, how undone she could become. Her stomach fluttered at the thought.

  He splayed himself over the bed and held out a hand to her. “I feel like a teenager trying to have sex in my parents’ house and not get caught.”

  Amanda reached behind her to turn the lock.

  “Are you going to be able to stay quiet?” she asked him.

  A wicked smile crossed his face. “Oh yeah. But I doubt you will be able to.”