Lovers at Heart (16 page)

“You are everything Bonnie said you’d be,” she whispered.

NO. NO, NO, NO
. There was absolutely no way that she’d just seen Treat mid-kiss with some blond woman. No way. Life could not be that cruel. Max took another look out the window, and the confidence she’d bolstered over the last twelve hours took a nosedive.

I’m an idiot. A moron. A fool
. She sank down into her seat and tried her best to hold back the sobs that were blooming in her chest. She pressed the sleeve of her sweatshirt to her eyes.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He isn’t mine to cry over.

“Are you okay?” the older man sitting next to her asked in a sympathetic voice.

Max nodded, hoping he wouldn’t notice her trembling chin.

“Are you sure? Because you look mighty upset.”

Why was he being nice to her? She wasn’t asking for help, and when she looked into his old gray eyes, she felt like crying even more.

“I am a little upset,” she admitted.

“I thought you might be. You’re too pretty of a gal to let anything make you so upset. Wanna talk about it?”

Max smiled. “No, thank you. It’s a little embarrassing.”

The old man scratched his head. “Alrighty then. Did you enjoy the festival?”

“Yes, it was nice,” she answered as the shuttle ambled along the busy road.

“Are you from around here?” he asked. “Wait. Don’t answer that. Just say this for me. Park the car in the Harvard yard and party hearty.” Every “ar” came out as “ah.”

Max laughed. “I know this one.” She feigned a New England accent. “Pahk the cah in the Hahvahd yahd and pahty hahty.”

“So, you
are
from around here,” he teased.

“Colorado, actually. Well, that’s where I live now.”

He told her the history of the festival and about how it had changed through the years, but Max was too lost in her own sorrow to hear any of the details. She listened instead to the calming cadence of his voice. By the time the shuttle stopped at White Crest Beach, Max’s tears were no longer falling. She shook the nice old man’s hand and thanked him for making her feel better.

“If you just got in today, you probably don’t have any dinner plans,” he said. “You’re welcome to have dinner with me and the missus, if you’d like. I’m sure Vicky would enjoy having company. And I promise you, no oysters.”

Max thought about her options. With the crowds she’d spent the day maneuvering through, she was sure she’d never get a dinner reservation, and she hadn’t passed a single fast food restaurant as she drove up the highway. She wasn’t hungry anyway, after the all the oysters she’d eaten, and she still needed to find a place to stay.

“There she is now,” he said as a woman pulled up in an old pickup truck.

“Chris, are you bothering that young lady?”

“No, he’s been really sweet,” Max said. The woman wore her long gray hair pulled back in a ponytail much like Max’s, and her wide smile brightened her friendly blue eyes.

“She just got into town today, and I was inviting her to have dinner with us,” he answered.

“Why, sure! I have plenty of salmon and chicken, corn on the cob, and I know we have enough Jell-O for desert,” the woman said. “By the way, I’m Vicky Smith, Chris’s better half. His manners could use a good overhaul.”

“I don’t know,” Max said. The responsible side of her wondered if she was getting herself into an unsafe situation. They seemed nice enough, but...Just then a car pulled up with another older couple in it.

“Hey, Vicky. Y’all coming to the bonfire tonight?” a man asked out the window.

“Oh yeah, we’ll be there,” Vicky answered. “Hey, Marge.” She waved to a woman walking by. “You coming to the bonfire?”

“I’ll be there!” The woman continued on her way.

Max watched the interactions, and unless she had entered some alternate Stephen King universe where the entire town was involved in hacking up tourists, she found them very kind and welcoming. Why shouldn’t she go spend some time with them? After all, it didn’t look like she’d be able to rent a room anyway, but even if she could, what would she do in a hotel room by herself? Listen to her heart break a little more every time she thought of Treat?

MAX HELPED Vicky with the dishes while Chris gathered blankets and chairs for the bonfire. Max had been hungrier than she’d thought she was, and the meal was delicious. She was glad she’d accepted their generous invitation. But now that the conversation had stalled, thoughts of Treat came rushing back, and sadness wrapped itself around her heavy heart.

“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.

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.”

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?