Taking Chances: Tangled Up Part 30

"No, she made me fall in love with sandals, and then told me she wouldn't let me wear them unless I painted my toes."

Bree was more of a barefoot girl, but she'd spent plenty of time in tennis shoes and various types of boots. She was all about function and safety, and considering her hobbies, she understood good footwear was important.

He continued to rub her feet and grow even harder at the way she responded.

"Should have done more of this in high school," he said.

Her head had tipped back and her eyes had slid shut. "This would have made it really tough to dump you for sure."

His mouth quirked. He couldn't believe he was actually smiling about her calling him boring in high school, but now, he had to admit that he probably had been.

And he finally let the realization really sink in-Bree was the same girl she'd always been. The woman sitting with him now was not that different from the girl who had sat here with him easily a hundred times in his life.

She had always liked action and thrills and junk food. She'd always gone hard and fast. She'd always given her all to everything. And she'd always been hard to keep up with.

That thought made him pause.

Bree had just said that he'd pushed her to give her all to things. She was right. He had always encouraged her to be her. So why had he changed things up when they'd started dating in high school? Was it because he wanted the quiet nights at home and romance?

Or was it because he'd been intimidated by the idea of being compared to her older, more exciting boyfriends?

Yep. Definitely that.

So he'd gone the other way. Romance. Sweetness. Tradition.

He'd made up his mind that he wanted all that and that she didn't want him if she didn't want those things, too. When really, he'd just been afraid of not being enough for her.

His telescope hadn't been enough for her. Even getting and riding dirt bikes with her hadn't been enough-she'd always moved on to something else.

But she'd always wanted him there with her.

"I'm guessing you've gotten better at this since we were in high school, though," she said.

He pulled his thoughts back to the moment and looked over at her. "You think so?"

"I'm guessing you've had a lot of practice in the past twelve years."

He gentled his strokes and ran his hand up to her ankle, then her calf, before coming back to her foot.

"I've maybe done this a few times."

"So maybe it's a good thing that we're doing this now rather than back then," she said.

He thought about that. He couldn't imagine regretting having her in his bed, in his life more fully, over the past twelve years, but . . . she'd already had a few good points tonight. "Maybe."

"The past twelve years haven't been so bad, have they?" she asked.

Max shook his head. "Of course not."

She smiled, looking almost relieved. "You've gone off and done your thing in the big wide world, and now you won't be wondering What if' about all of that."

"You think I would have wondered?"

She laughed. "Max, you do amazing work that you love and are proud of. If you'd stayed here and gone into construction from the beginning, you would have missed out on all of that."

"I'd have a knee that worked right."

"Your knee makes you even more amazing."

He felt the grip on his heart again. "Yeah?"

"Of course. The things you do in spite of your knee. The things you were doing that led to the injury. Those are all amazing. Those are all such a part of you. They've made you an even better version of the guy I've always known."

They had never talked about his knee. Her comment at the school had startled him. But now, this seemed right. They weren't being flippant about it, but they weren't delving into all the gritty details, either. The details didn't matter anymore. Just the here and now. "It's kind of s.e.xy, too, right?" he asked her. "The whole wounded-hero thing?"

She gave him a smile that lit up her whole face. "It's absolutely s.e.xy."

He matched her smile. But he had to ask the next question. "Do you have any what-ifs?"

She hadn't been here permanently, but she hadn't really left, either. Not really. That thought struck him hard, too. She hadn't really ever left. Not in her heart. And not for good.

Consistent. Steady. In spite of her jumping around, seemingly changing her mind.

She shook her head. "Nah. The things I've always wanted to do, I've been doing. The Grand Canyon, my pilot's license, that stuff." She sighed and dropped her gaze to her toes. "I guess my goals and dreams were always about me, weren't they? Yours were about changing the world and helping other people. Mine were about doing stuff I liked that gave me a thrill."

He wasn't sure what to say to that. "A lot of yours were about your brother."

She took a deep breath. "Yeah. But really, I've just been trying not to sit still. I mean, I have no idea if Brice would have liked San Antonio or would have liked snorkeling. I've just been doing . . . everything I can. Trying to cover the bases."

Her words grabbed Max's heart and squeezed. She'd been jumping around, restless, because she didn't really know where to go or what to do. Just that she needed to do something.

"You're a cop," he said. "You keep people safe. You've jumped into this cleanup. You're trying to learn everything you can so that you can do the emergency-management stuff in the future. That's about helping other people."

"But it's all really fun, too."

He chuckled as he stroked over the top of her foot. "You know you can like it and help other people, right?"

"Well, I want to work on that." She looked up at him. "You make me want to be a better person."

If his heart kept squeezing like this, he might be in some cardiac trouble. "I do?"

"Yes. So tell me about your ideas for the training center."

"You really want to hear it?" He really wanted to tell her.

"Of course." She pulled her feet off his lap and swung them to the floor, facing his computer.

Well, there was only one way to find out if she was really interested in all this.

Max pulled up his various plans and sketches. He had a lot of them. He really had been thinking about a lot of this for a long time.

"Wow, you really love this stuff," she said after thirty minutes.

He gave her a sheepish smile. "I do."

She leaned in and put her hand on his leg. "It's s.e.xy."

He snorted. "Uh-huh."

"It is. I love the look on your face when you talk about this stuff."

He looked down at her. "Oh, really?"

"Definitely. I love when you get into stuff. It's how you look when you're storm chasing, too. That's what made me want to learn more about it. That's what made me lie still for hours to get that photo for you."

Max couldn't resist then. He needed her. Just a taste. Or two.

He leaned in-just as the front door banged open.

"We're back!" Jodi Grady called, coming through the door.

"Max, come grab a box, son," Sam added, following his wife into the house.

Max sighed. "Of course." He gave Bree a smile. She winked at him.

He almost kissed her anyway. But he got to his feet and went to help his parents.

"What is all of this?" he asked as he grabbed a box from the porch.

"I'm making chicken and noodles," Jodi said, with more enthusiasm than chicken and noodles really warranted. Though hers was the best in the world.

"You're making chicken and noodles for the entire town?" Max asked, looking into the box he was carrying. There were cans and cans of chicken broth.

"Fifteen pans."

"Fifteen?" Max asked.

"Bree!" Jodi had just noticed her on the couch.

"Hi, Jodi."

"Girlie, it's so good to see you," Jodi said, clearly struggling with the fact that with her arms full she couldn't grab Bree and hug her.

"You, too. Need help with the chicken and noodles?"

"I would love that, honey. We can set up an a.s.sembly line."

Jodi continued on to the kitchen, and Bree got up off the couch and headed for the porch for another box.

Max felt a crazy sense of satisfaction watching his mom and Bree interact. Jodi and Bree had known each other all of Bree's life. Bree had been a regular feature in his house, in his family. They were completely comfortable together, and for some reason, today it felt so much better, and more important, than it ever had before.

He followed his mom into the kitchen and set the box on the table.

"Bree's here," Jodi said, pulling bags of chicken b.r.e.a.s.t.s from the box she'd put on the counter.

"Great," Sam said. He turned to his son from where he was unloading bags and bags of noodles. "So there is something going on with you two?"

"What do you mean?" Max asked, trepidation creeping up the back of his neck.

"Adam Franklin said something to Dave, who said something to Bob, who told me."

Adam Franklin had been at A Bar. Along with the rest of the town. The very small town that loved nothing better than juicy gossip.

"There is definitely something going on," Bree said, coming into the room. She gave Max a look that made his gut, and lower, tighten. "We just didn't expect everyone to figure it out before we did."

"Well, we're pretty bright. And have been right here watching for a long time," Jodi said.

Max's heart thumped hard, almost painfully. His mom and dad would love to have Bree in his life as more than his best friend. They'd love to have her in their lives. This was so dangerous. Anything he and Bree messed around with affected everyone they cared about.

Bree seemed oblivious to that fact as she laughed. "Oh, really?"

Sam grinned. "Looks like Max is the bright one, if you ask me," he said.

Bree gave him a sweet smile that made Max's heart thump again, but softer this time. She looked so genuinely happy. But a different happy than he was used to seeing. She was certainly happy white-water rafting and going full speed on her snowmobile. But this was a different look, a different kind of happiness. It almost seemed to come from someplace deeper. And it was because of the idea of being with him.

Max felt almost humbled by that.

"Well, thank you very much," Bree said to Sam.

"Us Grady men have amazing taste in women." Sam leaned over and kissed Jodi's temple.

"And amazingly big egos," Jodi added with a wink at Bree.

Max felt a warmth spread through his chest, and he took the chance to pull Bree up against his side and kiss her temple as well. "Can't argue. With either of those things," he said.

Bree leaned into him and wrapped an arm around his waist.

His parents smiled and went back to unpacking.

This felt good.

Probably too good.

Could this be real? Could this turn into something? No, not just something but everything?

Right on the heels of the warmth and softness he felt was a shiver of unease.

It all seemed wonderful and perfect. Bree here with him, happy to have a quiet evening together, then time with his parents who clearly loved Bree. And vice versa.