An Accidental Mom (10 page)

He stepped outside, quietly closing the huge front door behind him, and took a deep breath. The sky mirrored his mood—cold and gray. He sat on the top step of the porch and leaned both elbows on his knees, staring across the vast expanse of lawn that made up the London front yard. Shaking his head, he ran a hand through his hair. “Klutz,” he grumbled. “Bumbling idiot. Clumsy oaf.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Her sudden appearance on the porch startled him, and he lurched slightly. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long,” she said, reminding them of their earlier conversation in the kitchen. She sat down beside him, held the hair back from her temple. “See? No big deal. It’s just a teeny tiny little—”

He groaned, aloud this time. “Aw, man. You’re gonna have a big ugly knot on your head by morning.” Wincing, he added, “Sorry, Lil.”

She nudged him with her shoulder. “Accidents happen, Max.”

He looked into her face, saw that she’d meant every word. Max couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation—he’d clocked her, not the other way around, yet Lily was comforting
him!
No doubt about it: Happiness could be his for the asking…if only he could figure out how to ask.

Max slid an arm around her, gave her a little sideways hug. “You’re something else, you know that?”

He felt her shrug, heard her sigh.

“What?” he said.

But she only shook her head.

“Headache?”

“No.”

He wasn’t so sure. It would be just like her to hide any discomfort he’d caused her.

As if she’d read his mind, she looked at him just then. “Honest,” she said, patting his thigh. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t take her hand back, he noticed, but let it lie there instead, warming not only the skin beneath it, but his entire being. Maybe he should just ’fess up. Tell her how he felt.

Then again, maybe he shouldn’t; knowing Lily, she’d echo his words, if only to spare his feelings. Because, really, what did a gorgeous li’l gal like her want with a guy like him? A union between them, well, it was all in his favor. He’d get a pretty, big-hearted wife, Nate would get a loving mom—and what would Lily get? He glanced at her, saw that the spot where his chin had connected with her temple was already bruising. A lot of hard work, he thought, answering his own question—and contusions and abrasions.

She shivered.

“Let’s go inside,” he said, standing. And looking at the darkening sky, Max quoted Shakespeare: “‘Something wicked this way comes…’” He held out his hand to help her up, and she willingly put hers into it. “You’re a brave, trusting soul, aren’t you,” he teased.

“Either that,” she shot back, “or a glutton for punishment.”

He cringed. “Oooh. Cheap shot. But I guess I had it coming. That, and then some.”

She stood in his path and, hands on her hips, said, “You have plenty coming, Max Sheridan, but it’s all good stuff, ’cause you’re a good man.”

My, but she was gorgeous standing there, green eyes flashing, long dark hair billowing in the breeze.

“You’re kind and hardworking and decent, right down to the very core of you!” She emphasized the point by jabbing a finger into his chest.

“You think so, huh?”

She tidied the collar of his shirt, in a gesture he could only call “wifely.”

“No. I don’t think so, I
know
so.”

“Well,” he said hoarsely, taking her in his arms, “if I’m so good and decent, why is it that every time I look at you, I want to kiss the daylights out of you?”

He heard her tiny gasp, saw her big eyes widen further as he slid his arms around her. She hadn’t stiffened this time, he noticed, the way she had in the kitchen while she mashed potatoes, and his wild emotions flew about. Could it mean she felt the same way he did—that happiness, genuine happiness, could be found right here in one another’s arms? Was that too much to ask for? If he was a praying man, he’d ask the Almighty to intervene, right now, on his behalf.

Instead, he buried his face in her hair and held her tight, so tightly that not even the frosty wind could have squeaked between them.
Ah, Lily,
he thought,
eyes closed as he inhaled the sweetly feminine scents clinging to her soft tresses,
if only I could—

She bracketed his face with her hands and forced him to meet her eyes. “They’re eating up all the dessert without us, you know.”

He smiled. What did he care? In his opinion, the sweetest thing ever made was standing right here in his arms. “Probably.”

Hands on his shoulders now, she said, “We’ll be lucky if there are even crumbs left for us.”

“Maybe…”

“Funny, I’m not cold anymore.”

“Me, neither.” But then, he hadn’t been cold to start with.

“Think they’ve even noticed we’re gone?”

“No doubt in my mind. The room temperature likely dropped twenty degrees when you left, ’cause you’re warm as the sun.”

She batted her lashes and gave his chest a playful smack. “Cut it out. You’re gonna make me blush.”

Max studied her face for a quiet moment. He memorized every detail, from the perfectly arched feminine brows to the gently sloping freckled nose to the generous pink lips. Those wonderful, velvety soft lips…

“You planning to kiss me again, or just stand there, staring at my mouth?”

He almost laughed because, once again, she’d read his mind. There wasn’t another woman like her, not in all the world.

“All right, then,” she said, tucking in one corner
of that tantalizing mouth, “I guess I’ll have to take the bull by the horns.”

She stood on tiptoe and, one hand on either side of his face again, kissed him. Kissed him like she meant it, right down to her toes. It seemed like a fog had descended on him, blotting out rational thought, blocking common sense. He struggled to work his way out of it, so he could tell her
with words
that she was the answer to his every prayer.

Prayer?
That
brought him back to the Land of the Thinking, because Max hadn’t prayed in years. He ended the dizzying contact, held her at arm’s length. She looked so starry-eyed that he had to fight the impulse to kiss her again. “You just saved me a ton of empty calories,” he said, his voice gravelly and gruff, even to his own ears. So he cleared his throat and smiled. “My waistline thanks you.”

She only stood there, blinking, a faint smile shining in her eyes.

“Guess we’d better get back inside, before your father sends Obnoxious out here to tear my throat out.”

Lily laughed. “Obnoxious is quite literally all bark and no bite. You’re safe as a babe in his mother’s arms with that pup.”

Max stood beside her, draped an arm over her shoulders. “Looks like rain.”

“Mmm…”

“Hope it won’t be the thunder and lightning kind. Nate is terrified of storms.”

She was quiet for a minute, and then she said,
“Well, I have a feeling you handle that just as well as you handle everything else.”

He opened the door, held it for her.
The girl sure is good for what ails a man,
Max thought as she stepped into the foyer. In the weeks he’d been back in Amarillo, she’d awakened emotions in him he’d forgotten existed. It amazed him that some good-lookin’ dude hadn’t come along, snapped her up, made her his bride.

He closed the door harder than he’d intended, bristling at the thought of Lily married to another man, having his kids, sharing his life.

“What’s wrong?”

Max looked at her. “Wrong? Nothing. Why?”

“Well, you look so—” she frowned, searching for the right word “—a cross between horrified and furious.”

That pretty well described it, all right. “Ate too much, that’s all.”

“So you really don’t want dessert? Georgia told me your favorite sweet treat is Dutch apple pie.”

Lily looked downright disappointed, which meant she’d baked one, just for him. Max’s heart melted at the realization that she’d sought out yet another way to show him she cared. It wasn’t her fault, was it, that all his life he’d pretended to love the stuff rather than hurt his mother’s feelings? “Well,” he said, holding his thumb and forefinger an inch apart, “maybe just a small slice.” Max patted his stomach. “Any more and I’m liable to explode.”

Her exquisite face brightened and her voice went back to its usual melodic tones. “Sounds like every
one has retreated to the family room. Go on in and make yourself comfy while I get it for you.” She headed for the corner of dining room, where no fewer than a dozen delectable treats lined the sideboard. “Go on,” she said, motioning him onward. “I’ll be right in.”

Just like that, she was out of sight. Max thought he knew how Noah must have felt when God turned off the sun and started the clouds to raining on the sinful earth, because she’d taken the warmth and brightness with her.

You must be crazy,
Max told himself,
not snapping her up yourself, years ago.
Wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it, dozens of times. All he needed to do was head back to Texas, make sure he ran into her, start up where they’d left off. So many times, he’d almost asked his mother how Lily was doing—if she’d fallen in love, married, started a family. Hearing that news would have cut like a saber, so he hadn’t asked. Nothing could have surprised him more than learning none of those things had happened. Any man would consider himself blessed to have her as his wife!

Blessed? What was with him today, he wondered, remembering that minutes ago, he’d thought about prayer.

Not so surprising, really, that he’d have heavenly things on his mind. In his opinion, Lily was his own personal messenger from God.

M
ax took the only seat left in the family room, beside Lamont. The man was impressive in so many ways that he could be downright intimidating, and Max had never been sure—not as a boy and certainly not now—whether Lamont meant folks to read him that way.

Behind his back, people sometimes called Lamont “John Wayne,” not for his rolling gait, but for his tough, no-nonsense way of communicating. That style had commanded the respect and admiration of bankers and cowboys alike—and had helped make Lamont London one of the wealthiest men in the Texas Panhandle.

Years ago, Max had walked into the barbershop just as Lamont was leaving. “Now, there’s a man y’don’t want to cross,” said one man. “They don’t call him The Griz for nothin’,” said another. Months later, Max saw with his own eyes what they’d been
talking about when Lamont lit into a cashier for short-changing him and denying it.

Max wondered which of Lamont’s daughters had inherited his fiery temper. Definitely not Lily, and from what he could see, not Cammi, either. Left to decide between the twins, Max would choose Violet over Ivy. He looked at her now, perched on the arm of the sofa nearest her date, arms crossed over her chest, chin up and left eyebrow raised as she surveyed the goings-on in the room, while Cammi and Ivy giggled and chattered, like a couple of cartoon chipmunks.

Better watch it, bud,
he warned himself.
These people could be your in-laws some day.

Max almost laughed out loud at the thought. He’d shared, what, half a dozen kisses with Lamont’s youngest girl? Even if Lily was, in his opinion, perfect, enchanting, a
gift,
they were a long way from marriage.

Right?

He did some surveying of his own in the London family room.

Max supposed Robert had felt the same unease before asking Georgia to marry him. Reid likely had experienced some angst before proposing to Cammi. Even Lamont appeared ready to take the plunge…but hadn’t.

He may not yet have popped the question, but could that be far off? Because
something
major had changed about Lamont in the years Max had been away, and he suspected Nadine Greene had everything to do with it. Lamont laughed at Nadine’s jokes,
looked long into her eyes, clung to her every word—and she mirrored the loving, affectionate behavior. A far cry from the growly, grumpy man who’d earned the nickname “The Griz”!

If love could tame a man like Lamont, Max knew he didn’t stand a chance.

But…did he
want
a chance?

He’d been thinking wacky, crazy thoughts since coming back to Amarillo, things like how great life would be with Lily, and what a terrific wife and mother she’d be.

Then again, when Lily had pointed out that Georgia and Robert would be happy together, he’d raised her hackles with his “grass is greener” remark.

So which was it? Did he want his freedom or didn’t he?

It was a question he’d better think about, long and hard, and soon.

She came into the room carrying a pie plate in one hand, a cup of coffee in the other. “It’s decaf,” she said, putting them on the end table beside him. She pulled a napkin-wrapped fork out of her pocket, handed it to him.

“Looks terrific,” he said. And it did, too—golden-brown crust, perfectly sliced cinnamony apple wedges. “Thanks.”

She patted his shoulder. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” And with that, she hurried off.

Her sisters soon joined her, followed by Nadine and her daughter-in-law and Max’s cane-toting mother. A minute passed before Nadine’s son said, “Amazing how much noise women can make, isn’t it?”

Reid laughed. “Much as I hate to admit it, Adam, you make a good point.”

“Why, I didn’t even notice the racket, ’til the racket-eers were gone,” Robert joked.

Nate came over, sat on Max’s knee and pointed tentatively at the pie. “You gonna eat that?”

“No,” he said, sliding the plate toward him. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks, Dad!” On his knees at the coffee table, Nate gobbled a few bites and smacked his lips. “Mmm. Delicious. Lily’s a good cook, too.”

Meaning, Max thought, in addition to her other qualities and talents. And there were plenty, all right. He glanced around the room again, at the faces of the contented, cheerful men whose lives had been made better because they’d chosen the right women. Must be nice, he thought, starting every day knowing there was someone beside them—a partner to share life’s ups and downs, its joy and sadness.

When these guys left for work every morning, each took with him the knowledge that his toil had a purpose, that the responsibility of caring for his loved ones wasn’t a burden, but a pleasure. And when he came home again at night, someone would be waiting, and she’d welcome him home with a warm hug and a warmer kiss.

But he wouldn’t turn on the TV because he’d much rather sit in the kitchen pretending to read the news paper, watching as she puttered, checked the done ness of things, hummed to herself, all while looking
pretty in the gold
X
s and
O
s bracelet he’d bought her. And somewhere along the way she’d press her soft hands to his face and smile sweetly, and after another delicious kiss, tell him she’d baked his favorite pie for dessert. And even though it wasn’t
really
his favorite pie, he’d eat it, because—

Whoa. How had
he
gotten involved in the scene?

Max checked to make sure he hadn’t drooled. Wouldn’t have surprised him at all to find that he had!
You’re losin’ it, pal.
He’d better get a grip soon.

He wondered exactly what would happen if he
didn’t
get a grip. Would he get down on one knee, take Lily’s hand in his, slide a diamond on her finger? Or would he simply tell her, in plain English, that he thought they’d make a perfect pair? Nodding to himself, Max thought, Yeah, that was definitely more his style.

He sat back and stared at the TV screen, where two NFL teams were going at it on the field. At the moment, he couldn’t remember who wore green and yellow and who wore purple, but he sure could identify with the guy who’d fumbled the ball!

Max couldn’t remember feeling more confused. Couldn’t think of a time when he’d felt this addle-brained. What was going on?

Who was he kidding? He knew what was going on. If love could do
this
to a man, he didn’t know if he wanted any part of it.

Then again, that whole little kitchen scene he’d just dreamed up had been awfully nice….

“What’s your problem?” Robert asked him. “You look kinda green around the gills.”

Max tried to smile. “Ate too much, I guess.”

Robert nodded at the pie plate. “Good thing Nate likes your mama’s pie.” He wrinkled his nose. “I love her more than life itself, but…”

Max shuddered. “I’ve been chokin’ the stuff down since I was a boy. Maybe one of these days I’ll screw up the courage to tell her I’d rather eat raw muskrat.”

The men laughed, each sharing a similar story.

“Why do we do it?” Adam asked. “They’re sure quick enough to find fault.”

“Not Georgia,” Robert said.

“Never heard a word of complaint from Cammi,” Reid agreed.

Lamont shrugged. “Nadine’s pretty good at takin’ it on the chin. If she has a beef, she hasn’t shared it with me.”

They looked at Max. “Well?” Robert said.

He cleared his throat. “Well, what?”

Groaning and laughing, the men shot “cut it out” and “oh brother” his way. “You know what we’re talkin’ about,” Robert said. He extended his hands, palm up, wiggled his fingertips. “Give.”

Give what? Some concocted story that made him part of the group? He
wasn’t
part of the group! He and Lily were friends.

Max remembered those kisses they’d shared on the front porch earlier. Okay, so they were
good
friends. That didn’t mean they were a couple, that they’d spent enough time together, alone, to discover one another’s faults, or lack of them.

“Yeah,” Adam said, “give.”

“I—I, uh, well…”

He felt like the stuff between the proverbial rock and the hard place: There sat Lily’s father, looking his grizzly best. Her brother-in-law Reid mirrored the expression. Even his future stepfather sat on the edge of his seat. Max didn’t know whether to be amused or angry, because why did any of them care one way or the other!

“Sorry,” he said, shoulders up and hands out, “we just don’t have that kind of relationship.” For Lamont’s benefit, he quickly added “Yet,” though for the life of him he couldn’t say why.

Before the night was over, he might just find himself in the middle of a “what are your intentions toward my daughter” conversation. And to be honest, Max didn’t think he was ready for that. Didn’t know if he’d ever be ready for that. If he was smart, he’d start looking for reasons Lily
wouldn’t
be good for his life, instead of compiling a long, unwieldy list of reasons she would. But then, if he was smart, would he be here, feeling uncomfortable because he had no story to tell?

Nate looked up at him, licking the caramel-colored goo that holds apple pie together from his lips. The boy smiled, saying with his expression that he thought his dad was awesome. He could see himself having a couple more kids, just like this one, who’d look up to him that way…

“That pie was great, Dad. Thanks.” Nate got to his feet and picked up the plate and fork. “I’m gonna take this to the kitchen, so Lily won’t have to come back for it.”

Suddenly, the others began collecting china and sil
ver and heading for the kitchen. He only hoped the boy wouldn’t tell Lily
he
had eaten the pie she’d baked especially for Max, because it might hurt her feelings. He winced. He didn’t want that.

Now everyone gathered in the kitchen.

Everyone but Max, that is.

He sat, slumped in the chair that matched Lamont’s, staring at a commercial geared more to humor than to selling a product. But he wasn’t getting the intended joke. His mind was such a muddle, he wasn’t getting much of
anything.
Resting his head on the chair’s back cushion, he slapped both hands over his face.

“Not feeling well?”

Lily…

Max opened his eyes, tried a smile on for size. It didn’t fit, but he kept it on, anyway. “Hey. I didn’t hear you come in.” Did his cheeriness sound as phony to her as it did to him? Max hoped not.

“It’s a talent,” she said, perching on the arm of his chair.

He noticed suddenly that she held a dessert plate in one hand, a silver fork in the other.
Uh-oh,
he thought, it was just as he had feared:
Nate spilled the beans.

“I understand Dutch apple isn’t your favorite pie, after all.”

Funny, she didn’t sound hurt.

“Seems a shame to go without dessert.” She leaned across him to put the plate on the end table. “I want you to know,” Lily added, smiling
exactly
the way he’d pictured her in that daydream a little
while ago, “I think it’s sweet, the way you’ve been eating something you don’t like all these years, just to spare your mom’s feelings.” She leaned in again, pressed a kiss to his temple. “Do me a favor?”

He glanced at the plate. Chocolate cake. Looked homemade, too. He’d only picked at his dinner, and Nate had eaten his pie… Max licked his lips and forced himself to meet her eyes. “Favor? Sure. Anything.” This time when he smiled, he meant it.

“Don’t ever do that to me, okay?”

He frowned, shook his head. “I’m not following you.”

“Don’t ever pretend you like something, just to please me. I’d much rather
really
please you.”

She tilted her head when she said it, flirty-like. And her smile went from sweet to kind of mischievous. Max didn’t quite know what to make of that.

Mmm…so therein lies the rub, he thought.
She
thought of them as a couple, too.
That’s what you get, idiot, for kissing her like you meant it.

But he
had
meant it, hadn’t he?

“Promise?”

Promise what? Promise he meant it? Or promise not to say he liked pie if he didn’t? By now, he honestly didn’t know for sure, but Max nodded, feeling like one of those back-car-window doggies. “Sure. I promise.”

Earlier, he’d assessed the changes in Lamont, thought that if love could change a man that much, maybe he ought to try it.
Maybe you ought to think again,
he decided. Because this whole “love” thing was turning him into a bumbling, babbling, half-wit.

“Do you like chocolate cake?”

His gaze darted to the thick wedge beside him. “Well, yeah!” He laughed and grabbed the plate. “Who doesn’t?” His mouth began to water because now he could smell the delicious richness of it.

“You’re not just saying that, to be nice….”

She tilted her head again, and suddenly he didn’t know which sweet treat had started him salivating. “I’ll be honest,” he started, using the fork as a pointer, “I don’t know if I want to jam this whole thing into my mouth at once, or kiss you.”

Lily tipped her head back a bit and laughed. She gave his shoulder a playful shove. “The cake will get stale if you don’t eat it soon, but there’s plenty of time for—” she wiggled her eyebrows “—for the other.” With that, she hopped off the chair arm and walked toward the door.

Max stuffed a forkful of cake into his mouth. “Aw, man,” he said around it. “This is terrific.”

She stopped long enough to say, “Glad you like it.”

“Homemade?”

“Yup. My mama’s recipe.” And she disappeared around the corner.

“Max,” he said to himself, slicing off another bite of the cake, “your boy’s right…the girl can cook.”

And she genuinely enjoyed cooking for
him.
If he told her how he felt, Lily would reciprocate. Max knew that, as well as he knew his own name. As the fudgy frosting melted on his tongue, he realized he’d better get his head together. It wasn’t fair to Lily to
string her along. She deserved the best,
only
the best. No doubt she’d be good for him, for Nate.

But Max had been on his own a long time, doing things his way, in his own good time. Could he change? Could he open up and welcome her into his world?