Fall in Love

by Anthology

  “Did you come out just for the festival this weekend?” Vicky asked as she scrubbed a plate, and then handed it to Max to dry. She reminded Max of her own grandmother, who had died ten years earlier. She had the same generous spirit and made the same type of quippy remarks to Chris as her grandmother had made to her grandfather.

  “No.” I came searching for a man I didn’t really think was here, but he is, with another woman.

  “Work?” Vicky pressed.

  “No, not work.” Max dried another dish and placed it on the counter.

  “Love?”

  Max didn’t respond.

  Vicky set down the dish she was scrubbing. “I’m gonna tell you what my mama told me many years ago. She said, ‘Men are like weeds. Some will strangle you until you can’t breathe, and some will strangle you once, see you can’t breathe, and till your soil for the rest of their lives to make sure you’re never strangled again.’ Then she would wink at me and say, ‘If he strangles you again, get your ass right back here. If he tills your soil, make me some grandbabies.’ And that was that. I’ve never looked back. You just need to find your tiller, Max.”

  “Is she telling stories again?” Chris came into the kitchen with his coat on.

  “Are you ready? Truck packed?” Vicky asked, drying her hands on a dish towel.

  “All set. You gals ready?”

  “Ready as we’ll ever be,” Vicky answered.

  “Max, did you bring a coat? It gets cold, even with the bonfire. Chris, grab one of my coats.”

  “Are we going near where my car is parked?”

  “Yup.”

  “I have one in my car. I’ll be fine,” Max said, suddenly glad that she was tagging along. The weight of her stupid notion of fate stepping in had already begun to lighten with the distraction of dinner. Now, if she could only get the image of Treat and that woman out of her head, maybe she could move her feet to follow them toward the truck.

  Chapter Nineteen

  TREAT PULLED ON a heavy sweater and cursed beneath his breath when he checked his voicemail and there were no messages from Max. He’d called Max several times that afternoon, and each call went straight to voicemail. He’d driven to where the shuttle had last dropped off, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight. He was so damned sure it had been her on that shuttle bus, but it made no sense at all. What the hell would she be doing in Wellfleet? He had to be wrong. His eyes were just playing tricks on him. If only Bonnie hadn’t called to him. If it had been Max, she’d be in his arms instead of on the shuttle, watching Amanda kiss him.

  Amanda was nothing like any woman he’d ever want to date. Sure, she was smart as a whip—a real estate attorney, in fact—but she was pushy in a way that made him feel dirty—and not the good kind of dirty. What kind of woman whispered something so suggestive the first time she met a guy? Bonnie had been her normal peppy self and was completely oblivious to the way Amanda’s eyes undressed him. He knew damn well what a woman like that was after. She looked at Treat and saw eye candy and dollar signs, while Max looked right past all of the meaningless facade to the man he was inside. She also saw the shadow of the mistake I made. His muscles tensed against the thought.

  He’d committed to the damned bonfire, and he would honor the commitment, if for no other reason than to tell Chuck to ask his wife to refrain from setting him up with any other women—ever.

  He tried calling Max one more time before driving over to White Crest.

  THE WIND PICKED up, turning Treat’s thick hair into a mass of dark waves. He stood at the top of the dune looking down at the beach. The town of Wellfleet distributed four bonfire permits per beach, and as he counted the flaming pits, he realized that he had no way of knowing where Chuck and Bonnie’s bonfire was. There were enormous groups of people around each bonfire, and for a minute Treat considered going back to the bungalow. Maybe Chuck and Bonnie wouldn’t even notice his absence.

  Can this day get any worse?

  Chuck and Bonnie had been good friends to him for more years than he cared to remember, and as he kicked off his loafers and descended the steep sandy ramp to the beach below, he was glad that he’d made the effort to come out and meet them. The deep, cold sand covered his bare feet with each determined step. Before approaching the gathering of people around each bonfire to find Bonnie and Chuck, he took a moment to listen to the waves as they broke against the shore. The moon hovered over the water like a beacon in the clear dark sky. Laughter filtered up from his right, where children were tossing a ball and diving into the sand to retrieve it.

  The feel of the salty sea air on his cheeks had always been one of his favorite sensations. It reminded him of playing along the water’s edge when he was younger, while his mother and father watched from the dry sand. He bent down and rolled up the legs of his gray linen pants. From his crouched position, he watched a group of teenagers drawing pictures in the air with sparklers, just as he and his siblings had done. He sank into the sand, remembering his mother’s sweet laughter as she teased him, chasing squeals from his lungs as she’d swoop him from the sand and tickle his belly before she’d been too weak to even lift her own chin. He didn’t allow himself to visit those memories too often. But now, while he was missing Max and feeling a bit uncomfortable in his own skin, he needed the warmth of them.

  “Go ahead. I’ll catch up!” Treat heard someone yell. He blinked away the memory, rose to his feet, and headed down the beach toward the first bonfire. Might as well get this over with.

  A few minutes later he heard his name from behind.

  He turned, expecting to see Chuck. Smitty stood where he’d just been sitting, carrying an armful of blankets. He walked back through the dense sand and took the blankets from Smitty’s arms.

  “Smitty!” Treat embraced his old friend. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  “Oh, you know Vicky. Any excuse for a party.” Smitty’s white hair looked almost gray in the moonlight. “Are you with our bonfire tonight?”

  “I don’t know. I’m looking for Chuck and Bonnie Holtz.”

  Smitty shook his head. “They’re not with our group.” He scanned the people closest to them. “Isn’t that them right there?” He pointed to a couple roasting marshmallows around the nearest bonfire.

  “Your eyes are better than mine. I think you might be right.”

  “Treat!”

  Amanda. Treat groaned. How was he ever going to make it through the evening?

  “Looks like you have a lady friend waiting for you. Here. Give me the blankets and you go join your party.” Smitty reached for the blankets.

  “That’s okay. I’ll bring them to your bonfire.” Anything to avoid Amanda.

  Smitty yanked the blankets from his arms, eyeing the woman who was heading their way with a determined look on her face. “That one’s not taking no for an answer. We’re the last bonfire down on the left. Stop by later, and bring your friend if you’d like.”

  Chapter Twenty

  MAX PULLED THE top layer of a roasted marshmallow off and put it in her mouth, then licked the sticky sweetness from her fingers. It had been ages since she’d roasted marshmallows, and she was having a wonderful time talking with Vicky and her friends. This was just what she needed. A little time to de-stress and pull herself together. And to get over Treat’s newest girlfriend.

  “Guess who I ran into?” Chris asked when he joined the group.

  “God himself?” Vicky teased.

  “Sort of. Treat Braden.”

  Max choked on her marshmallow. Treat? Did he say Treat Braden? Of course he did. How many other names sound like Treat Braden?

  Vicky patted her on the back. “Get her a drink, quick, Chris.”

  Chris handed her a bottle of wine, which Max chugged, and when she stopped choking, she chugged some more, until she’d downed half the bottle.

  “Max? A little thirsty?” Vicky said with a coy smile.

  “Sorry. Thank you, Chris. Do you mind?” She pointed to the bottle. Treat. Jes
us, he’s everywhere.

  “Go for it.”

  Before he finished answering, Max was already guzzling more wine. She lowered it from her lips with a loud, “Ahh.” She couldn’t drink fast enough. She sucked down another gulp and wiped a drip from her chin.

  “Did you say Treat Braden?” she asked.

  “Yeah, you know him?” Chris asked.

  “Yeah, I know him.” Max looked down the beach as she sucked down more wine. “Tall guy, handsome as the day is long?” Long as the day is handsome! She finished the bottle of wine and plopped into a beach chair with a loud sigh. Shoot me now…No…give me another bottle of wine first. The alcohol warmed the ache and anger that had turned her flesh to ice.

  “He’s got a place right in Wellfleet. I’ve known his family for years.” Chris laughed. “He still calls me Smitty, like his pop did. It was a nickname I had as a younger man.”

  “A much younger man,” Vicky teased.

  “Did you meet Treat here?” Chris asked.

  Max shook her head. I made out with him a few times, and I’m in love with him. Oh, and he keeps breaking my heart.

  Vicky planted herself in the chair beside Max. “I’ve been around a long time.”

  Max stared at the fire, feeling the alcohol chipping away at her defenses and washing away her inhibitions.

  “If I didn’t know better, and if I’m reading that empty bottle of wine correctly, I’d think that Treat might be the reason you’re here.”

  Max looked at her without answering, then pushed herself to her feet, swaying from side to side until Vicky grabbed her arm and she found her footing. “I’m just gonna go to the bathroom. It’s in the parking lot, right?”

  “I’ll go with you,” Vicky said.

  “No, I can manage. Thank you, though.” She started for the dunes, then turned back. “Vicky, you’re a really nice friend.”

  Max stumbled toward the dunes, mumbling beneath her breath about blond women and tall men. She stumbled up the sandy ramp to the parking lot and found the small cinder-block bathroom. Inside, she flicked on the light and stood in front of the mirror, staring at her drunken, glassy eyes. Why did I do this to myself? Fly halfway across the country in search of a man who doesn’t even want me?

  She removed the elastic from her hair and fluffed her long tresses over her shoulders, surveying herself in the mirror. She turned her face one way, then the other, narrowed her eyes, and then opened them wide again. I’m a pretty girl. Pretty girls are supposed to have happily-ever-afters. Kaylie got hers. Danica got hers. So why is the blonde getting mine?

  She went to the bathroom, washed up, and headed back toward the beach. From the top of the dune, she scanned the beach for Treat. She spotted his height first, and her hand flew to her heart. Look at him. She bit her lower lip at the tug in her chest. The blonde stood beside him, and she kept touching his shoulder. “Don’t touch him,” Max said aloud.

  She started down the steep incline and fell to her butt on the hard, packed sand of the ramp. She looked at Chris and Vicky’s bonfire, where all those nice people were smiling and laughing; then she looked up toward the bonfire where Treat was. More goddamned happy people. Max couldn’t take it anymore. She’d finally given herself up to a man—and she couldn’t even do that right. Here she was, alone, cold, and sitting on a hard sandy ramp. She gave in to the tears that had been begging to be set free for two full days. She didn’t wipe them away or cover her face. She didn’t care who saw her. She honored her sadness, allowing herself to feel the pain, like her heart had been beaten and tossed away only to be gnawed on by a mangy dog and walked all over again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  TREAT HAD TO get away from Amanda. She was clingy and vile, offering to do all sorts of dirty things to him and refusing to accept his gentlemanly denials. She was so persistent that he half expected to hear, All that for a cool five hundred dollars. He was on the verge of telling her flat out, I will not sleep with you—ever. He’d never had to go that far before. Then again, he’d never been so in love with one woman that he’d turn down another.

  Max. He had to find her. Even the thought of Max seeing him with Amanda standing this close to him turned his stomach. His only hope was that it really hadn’t been Max, and that she was safe at home in Colorado.

  “I’ll tell you what,” Amanda said as she guzzled another beer. “If you’ll take a walk with me—one walk.” She leaned in closer, her breath warming his ear, and whispered, “I promise you, I’ll rock your world. I’ll be your treat.”

  Treat closed his eyes against his boiling anger. It would be so easy to take her—down the beach, at his bungalow, where didn’t matter. He could have a string of nameless, faceless women if he wanted them. That part of my life is over, and I’m never going back to it. Not now that he knew what it was like to feel more than lust, to look into someone’s eyes and want so much more than sexual gratification. To want a lifetime of smiles and handholding, breakfasts, and yes, saucy, sumptuous, scorching hot nights of making love. When he opened his eyes, his decision was easy. Enough was enough. He spotted Chuck and Bonnie by the dunes.

  “Excuse me,” he said.

  “Chuck, I had a great time. Thank you for the invitation, but I really have to run. I’m still catching up on my sleep.”

  Chuck winked. “Taking Amanda with you?”

  “No and, Bonnie, you know I think the world of you, but I’d never give a woman like that a second thought. I’m sorry, but she’s a bit aggressive.”

  Bonnie flushed. “I know. I’m sorry. I guess I thought that a guy like you was used to women throwing themselves at him and that she’d just fit right in.”

  It surprised him that she would think of him like that, or rather, that she’d think he might act on it if they had. “Yes, but have you ever seen me with any women since you’ve known me?”

  “Well, no,” she admitted.

  He put his hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek. “Then please don’t underestimate me.” He patted Chuck on the arm. “Thanks, buddy. We’ll catch up soon.”

  “Are you leaving town again?” Chuck asked.

  “Thinking about a trip to Colorado.” Treat headed down the beach toward Smitty’s bonfire, thinking about Max. If it hadn’t been her on that shuttle, then he’d make damn sure that if she’d give him another chance, he’d never be in a situation where his actions could be misconstrued again. Hell, he never wanted to be away from her again.

  “Treat!”

  Treat stopped in his tracks, reminding himself not to lose his cool, as Amanda ran to his side. Up ahead, Vicky was heading toward the parking lot. She plopped herself down next to someone who had her knees pulled up to her chest and her head buried in her arms. Is everyone having a shitty night?

  Amanda touched his shoulder. “I didn’t get to give you a kiss goodbye.” She leaned in as he pulled back, catching sight of Vicky helping someone to her feet. Max. In the split second she looked over, Amanda planted a kiss right on his cheek—and Max ran up the ramp.

  “Max, wait!” Vicky yelled.

  Max. Max! “Max!” he yelled.

  “Treat!” Amanda ran after him.

  Treat spun around. “I’m sure you’re a wonderful woman, but I am not—nor will I ever be—interested in you.” He didn’t realize he had yelled it until he was halfway up the ramp and passing Vicky.

  “Way to go, Treat. That woman’s got a fairly loose reputation,” Vicky said. “Get the one that matters!”

  Max fumbled with her keys by a little white car.

  “Max!” he hollered.

  She turned her back to him.

  “Max.” He spoke softly as he approached. “Max, it’s not what you think.”

  “Like it’s not what I thought when you gave me that look? God, you gave me that look and made me feel like shit, and look at you. One minute you’re professing your love to me and the next you’re making out with a blonde on the streets of Wellfleet. No wonder this is your favorite place. Yo
u probably have a woman at every port.” She unlocked her car door, unsteady on her feet. “I should have known.”

  “Max?” Vicky said.

  Max turned, her face flushed as she looked between them.

  “Max, I’ve known Treat since he was a boy,” Vicky said.

  “I can’t believe you know Chris and Vicky,” Max spat at Treat.

  “Chris? Oh, you mean Smitty.” Treat’s eyes darted between Max and Vicky.

  “Yes, Smitty,” Vicky clarified. “Max, we see Treat when he’s in town. We know his whole family, and he isn’t who you think he is,” Vicky said.

  “See? Even she knows what you’re like,” Max spat at him.

  “What? No, Max,” Treat couldn’t let her go—not this time. Not ever again.

  “No, Max, he’s not the person you think he is. It’s none of my business, and I’ll leave you two alone to hash this out in a second, but first…” She turned to Treat. “Do not let her drive. She’s the sweetest, kindest woman I have met in a long time.”

  “I promise,” Treat said quietly.

  “Max,” Vicky continued, “Treat has women after him all the time. Of course he does. Just look at him. It’s a wonder he can go anywhere looking like that. But he’s a gentleman. He doesn’t have a girl in this port. I’ve never seen him bring a woman here, or even date a woman here, and he’s no spring chicken. That’s a lot of years without a steady woman on his arm.” She took Max’s hand and slipped her keys from it. “Max, he’s your tiller.” She nodded. “Trust me, Max. Trust me.”

  Vicky handed the keys to Treat, kissed his cheek, and then whispered in his ear, “Hurt her and I’ll kill you. And I want a front seat at the wedding.”

  Treat was too shocked to move. His heart was swimming in gratitude for what Vicky had said about him. He wanted to make her proud, and he knew he would. There was no woman alive more important to him than Max, except perhaps Savannah, but at that moment, even Savannah was pushed to the back burner. He stepped forward and looked down into Max's sad eyes. He touched her arm and felt her trembling.