A Love So Sweet

by Addison Cole

  “Thank you, sir. I actually—”

  “Hal. There are no sirs on the Braden ranch unless you’re here to piss one of us off.” Hal smiled and continued walking toward the backyard, as if Max were an invited guest.

  “Thank you. Hal, I actually came to see Treat. Is he here?” She caught Dane sneaking glances in her direction as he and Hugh made their way to the barbecue pit.

  “Treat was called away,” Hal said.

  “Called away?” she asked, wondering if he’d left for the Cape already or was simply attending to something else. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”

  Hal was already on his way to Rex’s side. He slung an arm around his son’s shoulder in an easy, comfortable fashion and said something Max couldn’t hear. Savannah came out of the house carrying a plate and took Max’s hand, dragging her to the table, while chatting about the after-party. Hugh headed back inside and reappeared a minute later with a beer in his hand.

  “Did you get one for our guest?” Savannah asked with a nip of irritation.

  “No, really—” Max interrupted, but Hugh was already on his way back inside.

  He came back with an ice-cold beer. “Here you are, Max.”

  “Thank you, but I really shouldn’t stay,” she said.

  “Nonsense. You don’t have to eat if you’re not hungry,” Hal said just as her stomach growled. “But then again…”

  Why do I keep forgetting to eat?

  The family moved so quickly that Max was a little overwhelmed, which seemed to happen a lot around the Braden men. She should be helping, organizing, doing something other than standing around with her jaw hanging open. Instead she was letting them guide her from one place to the next. She was itching to get out of there in case Treat had already gone to the Cape, but before she had a chance to make her feet and mind work in unison, she had a plate full of food in front of her and was laughing at a joke Dane had made.

  “How did you and Treat meet?” Hugh asked.

  “I can answer that,” Dane said.

  Savannah nudged him. “Let her speak.”

  Hugh reached across the table in front of Max for the ketchup, and Savannah narrowed her eyes at him. After a moment of confusion, Hugh took the hint and said, “Excuse me,” as he withdrew his arm from in front of Max.

  “That’s okay,” Max said, noting how Savannah had jumped in just as a mother might have. It struck her how different each of Treat’s brothers were. Treat had impeccable manners, and he’d never sneak glances at anyone—at least she couldn’t imagine him doing so. When they’d met, he’d kept a steady gaze locked on her, like he had nothing to hide, and that openness hadn’t changed.

  “How do you know Treat?” Hugh asked again.

  She’d been surveying them so intently, she’d forgotten he’d asked. “Oh, sorry. We met at a friend’s wedding.”

  “Cousin Blake’s wedding. Remember? You were all too busy to attend.” Dane glared at Hugh.

  “What? I had an award ceremony.” Hugh’s eyebrows drew together, as if he didn’t understand what the issue was.

  “Don’t you always?” Dane said. He was as quippy as Hugh was clueless to what Max was sure his siblings saw as his self-centeredness.

  “Oh, please. You ran off to some shark-infested area and missed it, too,” Rex said, and shoved a hunk of steak into his mouth.

  “At least I made an appearance first, which is more than I can say for any of you,” Dane said with a smirk.

  Max enjoyed their banter, so different from her own family’s silent meals. She couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like to have that many siblings—that many people who would be there for her.

  “We were supporting Hugh,” Savannah explained.

  “Right, for his five minutes of fame that he gets every couple of months. How long has it been since you’ve seen Blake?” Dane asked.

  “For your information, I spoke to Blake and Danica and they completely understood. Forgiveness is a beautiful thing,” Savannah said with a pointed expression. “Of all people, Dane, I’d think you’d understand that. It’s not like they’ll never talk to us again, or hold a grudge.”

  Silence settled around them, and Max swore tension rose like a fog as each of Treat’s siblings visibly made a concerted effort not to look at Hal, except Rex, who was glowering at him. It was then she remembered what Treat had said about his father holding a grudge. She pushed the food around on her plate with her fork, trying not to look like she wanted to flee. Her mind traveled back to her conversation with Treat about what had happened to her with Ryan, and the pain that accompanied those thoughts returned. Was forgiveness a beautiful thing? She wasn’t sure she could ever forgive Ryan for what he’d done to her. She’d run away and had never given him a chance to apologize. Not that she wanted an apology.

  He doesn’t deserve the right to clear his mind.

  But do I?

  “You know, Blake spent a lot of time with us when we were younger, and you get married only once,” Dane said, bringing Max’s mind back to the moment.

  She had a feeling he was trying to ease the mounting tension.

  “As far as I can tell, none of my brothers are walking down the aisle anytime soon,” Savannah said as she buttered a piece of bread.

  “Max, have you ever been married?” Hugh asked.

  She was about to take a drink and stopped midair.

  “Hugh.” All it took was one word and a harsh glare from Hal for everyone at the table to understand that that line of questioning was off-limits—including Max.

  The talk quickly turned to the lighter topics. They asked Max about her job and raved about the festival. Other than the one blip about forgiveness, the meal was comfortable and, Max had to admit, aside from the time she spent with Treat, it was more fun than anything she’d done in a very long time. She tried to picture what it might be like to be there with Treat. How much ribbing would he dole out? What kind of teasing would they thrust upon him? How would he act around her? Would he be openly affectionate, as he usually was with her, or would he be more reserved around his family?

  She needed to find him before she got sucked into hours of entertainment watching his siblings taunt each other. “Thank you for the lovely meal, but I’m afraid I really need to go.”

  The entire family walked her to her car. Do they do everything together?

  “Do you know if Treat has left town yet, or was he called away locally?” Max asked.

  “Yes, darlin’,” Hal answered. “He was planning on leaving later, but he received a call this morning and ran out in a hurry.”

  “Okay. Thank you again for the meal.” Max reached for her car door as Hal reached for her, drawing her into his arms again and holding her longer than most friends might. He held her like a father might hold his daughter. Sad about missing Treat, Max struggled to suppress the emotions bubbling up inside her over his warm and welcoming family.

  “This was fun,” Savannah said. “You should come by with Treat sometime. He’ll be upset that he missed you.”

  In the next breath she was being crushed in Savannah’s embrace. After being passed from brother to brother for goodbye hugs, Max finally climbed into her car and drove away. When she was out of eyeshot, she pulled over to the side of the road to check her messages. Her heart leapt at the sound of Treat’s voice. Hi, sweetness. I had to head out earlier than planned and was slammed with calls from the second I left. I’m stuck in meetings all day, but will try to call you tonight. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow night.

  With a smile on her face, she made a split-second decision to surprise him. She left a quick message—Can’t wait to see you, too! Good luck with your meetings—and called the travel agent she used for the festival. When it came to travel, Selena Shirlington could make miracles happen, which was exactly what Max needed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  TREAT DROVE DOWN the narrow road leading to his bungalow overlooking the bay early Thursday evening. He’d forgotten the Oyster Fe
stival was this weekend, which meant driving anywhere on the Cape took hours rather than minutes. He rounded the last bend carefully, avoiding the enormous rosebush that he continually forgot to ask the gardener to trim back. Knock Out roses. Max’s favorite flowers. He’d listened to Max’s voicemail message twice after his last meeting, missing her so much he debated flying home tonight, but he was excited to show her around Wellfleet over the weekend. He’d called her back, but the call had gone to voicemail and he’d had to leave a message.

  The bungalow came into view and he parked on the seashell driveway. He hadn’t had time to drop off his bags before his first meeting, though he’d called Smitty, the caretaker who watched over the house. Smitty had known Treat’s mother, and he’d always had an affinity for Treat. He knew the bungalow would be stocked with enough groceries for the weekend, there would be wood by the fireplace, the windows would be open to air the place out, and the beds would have freshly washed linens.

  Inhaling the salty sea air, he retrieved his bags and headed up the front steps. The Cape had a rejuvenating effect on him, like coming up for air after being underwater, and tonight was no different. The only thing that would make it better was if Max were with him to share in what had been one of his mother’s favorite places. They’d rented this bungalow on several occasions when he was young, before his mother had become too sick to travel. As soon as it had gone on the market, Treat had purchased it.

  He climbed the front steps, taking in the weathered cedar shingles. He could almost hear his mother’s voice. Oh, Treaty, look! The shingles have weathered. Don’t you just love the graying and the texture of them? She’d loved anything where each of the pieces that held it together were different from the rest.

  Inside, he set his luggage by the door and dropped his keys in the pottery bowl on the kitchen table. The curtains whipped around the open casement windows. He stood in the breeze and stared out over the bay. Goose bumps formed on his arms, and he found the thick, gray cable-knit sweater his mother had knitted for his father lying on the arm of the sofa table. Good old Smitty. He slipped it on, and a strange feeling came over him, as if he were not alone. He looked around the cozy space, and if he didn’t know better, he’d have thought his mother were right there with him, pleased that he was wearing that sweater. A strand of guilt tugged at his heart for dismissing his father’s beliefs so easily.

  He wondered what Max was up to and hoped she was out for a girls’ night with Kaylie and their friends.

  A knock sounded at the door, and he went to answer it, wondering if Smitty was checking on him. His childhood friend, Charley “Chuck” Holtz, stood before him.

  More gray than brown up top and more belly than muscle in the middle, Chuck beamed with the same vibrancy he’d always possessed. “TB!”

  “Chuck, how are you?” Treat waved him in, and they greeted each other with a manly hug.

  “Smitty told me he opened the old place up for you. I was on my way into town and figured I’d stop by. Haven’t seen you in a while. What brings you out?” Chuck had a thick New England accent.

  “Just closing negotiations on some property.” He and Max had reason to celebrate this weekend. After hours of negotiations, the owners of the Ocean Edge Resort had agreed to his terms. He wanted to tell Max before he shared the news with anyone else.

  “Must be nice. Man, I’d kill to get my hands on more property up here, but it’s too pricey for my blood. I’m meeting Bonnie at the Pearl for dinner. Why don’t you join us? You won’t get reservations anywhere else this weekend, and eating alone is no fun. We’ll surprise her. She tells everyone she knows about you. You know how that goes. Around here you’re a big deal, a big fish in a small pond.” He winked.

  The last thing Treat wanted to deal with was to be shown off like a trophy, but he adored Bonnie, and he knew she was just proud of his accomplishments. “Why not.”

  “Great. Let’s go.” Chuck headed for the door.

  “Now?” Treat looked down at his suit. He desperately needed a shower. He touched his chin. And a shave.

  “You’re right. Go get out of that monkey suit and put on some comfy clothes.”

  “All right, then. Just give me a few minutes to wash up and change.” He picked up his bags and said, “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Nah, I’ll wait.”

  On the way upstairs, Treat said, “Make yourself at home.” He heard the refrigerator open and the clink of beer bottles. Good old Smitty.

  “I already am,” Chuck called up.

  MAX STARED AT her phone, wishing it had a direct line to Treat. She’d Googled his name, hoping to find the street where his house was located so she could surprise him, but of course he was too private to have that information listed. His phone number was restricted, for heaven’s sake. Where the heck was fate when she needed it? At least she’d gotten a direct flight to Boston, and the rental car agent had been efficient. She followed the GPS toward Wellfleet. It was a straight shot up the Mid-Cape Highway, which ended at a rotary in Orleans. With less than twelve miles to go, she’d be in Wellfleet in no time.

  Traffic moved at a snail’s pace around the rotary, and when she pulled onto the main road, it came to a grinding halt.

  Twenty minutes later, she was still stuck in traffic. She’d entered Eastham, a quaint little town with cottages and a few shops off the main drag. Treat had said it was the off season, but as she inched down the narrow highway, she noticed that each of the cottage rental communities had No Vacancy signs out front. She was in desperate need of a bathroom, and she had absolutely no idea where Treat’s house was. Finally, after sitting in traffic for what felt like forever, she pulled into the parking lot of a Four Points Sheraton.

  The expansive lobby was packed with people milling around the registration desk. She squeezed between a large man and a petite blonde and spotted a sign for the restroom. After using the facilities, she tried to make her way through the lobby again, but there were even more people blocking her path now.

  “Excuse me,” she said to a middle-aged man.

  “Sorry, hon. We’re waiting for the rest of our club members to arrive. You can squeeze right between those two women.”

  Max looked at the two plump women who were deep in conversation and standing so close together that there was no way she’d get through. She looked back at the gentleman who had suggested it, and he held up his index finger.

  “Harriet, Kelly, please let this young woman through,” he said in a friendly tone.

  The women parted, never pausing their conversation, and Max slipped by, then wove around two children and another couple and finally reached the desk.

  “Excuse me. Is there a back road into Wellfleet?” Max asked the white-haired woman behind the desk. “The main road is really backed up.”

  She looked at Max as though she’d lost her mind. “Honey, you aren’t gonna find a clear road anywhere this weekend. This is Oyster Fest weekend. We’ve got more people in the area this weekend than we do space. It’ll be like this through Sunday.”

  A heavyset woman squeezed in beside Max and asked about transportation to the festival. A man nudged his way in front of Max, and she stepped back, wondering what in the world she was going to do until she heard from Treat. She grabbed a flyer about the festival and a Cape Cod map from a table in the lobby, then went out to her car and stared at the bumper-to-bumper traffic.

  “Not exactly the romantic surprise I had in mind,” she mumbled, vowing not to let this bring her mood down. She’d find Treat one way or another.

  She climbed into her car and studied the map on the festival flyer, then flipped it over and scanned the event information. It was obvious that she would never get her car anywhere near the festival, but according to the flyer, she was only a few miles from White Crest Beach, where she could catch a shuttle to the festival. She might as well make the most of waiting for Treat’s call, and enjoy the scenery.

  When she finally made it to the beach, she wondered what k
ind of a fool set out across the country to a place she’d never been without a plan.

  The same kind that left in the middle of the night and drove to Colorado without a plan.

  She debated leaving another message for Treat saying she was there, but she wanted to hear the excitement in his voice when she told him. Besides, she knew her man. He’d call as soon as he was able. As she got out of the car she told herself this was just a little delay to what would be a fantastic weekend. Fate had brought them together before; it would happen again.

  Twenty minutes later she climbed out of the shuttle in front of the Wellfleet Town Center. The narrow streets and sidewalks were crowded with people moving between stores and vendors. Without even realizing what she was doing, she began studying every dark head of hair that rose above the crowd, despite knowing he was working.

  Large white tents lined the parking lot across the street. Max’s eyes lit up at the mass of people packed in as tight as a school of fish, leaving barely enough room to step between. She moved with the crowd across the street and into the first tent, where handmade baskets and driftwood painted with beach scenes, boats, and gulls lined long tables.

  Max went from one tent to the next, tasting oysters made fifty different ways, while local artisans smiled and chatted about their crafts and the festival, and soon looking for Treat fell by the wayside.

  “Shuck this!” a man yelled, handing Max an oyster shell.

  “Thank you, but I’ve eaten so many that I think I might explode.”

  He leaned over the table and said, “That’s what your husband is counting on.” A wink and a nod later, Max finally got the joke—and it brought her mind right back to Treat.

  She already felt like one big, uncontrollable hormone when she was with him. She needed help like she needed a hole in her head. She grinned at the thought as she moved to the next tent.

  Time passed swiftly and, as the sun began to set, Max made her way back toward the shuttle bus. She took a window seat, and an elderly man with a shock of white hair sat beside her. She smiled and then faced the window, not in the mood to talk. As the rest of the passengers boarded the shuttle, the disappointment of not hearing from Treat settled in, putting her hopeful energy through a sharp reality check. What if Treat had to work late into the evening? What if he didn’t call? She pressed her hands to her chest, trying to quell the doubt blooming there. She glanced behind her at another stream of people getting off a shuttle bus and began to shake from the cold, her confidence about finding Treat coming down a notch.