Taking Chances: Tangled Up Part 31

Perfect.

He was really skeptical of perfect.

Not because he didn't think perfect was attainable or because he didn't think he deserved it. He wasn't that guy.

It was because perfect was impossible to maintain.

h.e.l.l, that was why he'd stayed away from a full-time life in Chance for the past ten years. Because the perfection he attained with Bree on his trips home couldn't be maintained.

Or could it?

Had he been staying away because of Bree's restlessness, or because of his fears about not measuring up?

But now, tonight, he had to wonder if all that was just bulls.h.i.t he'd told himself to make it easier to handle Bree not wanting to settle down with him.

He could maintain what was going on here. Sharing their work, spending time with friends and family. Hot s.e.x in random places.

This wasn't like the women he dated in Oklahoma. If he broke up with them, no one in Max's life was affected. His parents hadn't met any of his girlfriends. He hadn't met any of their families. They rarely had friends in common. Max kept it all very private. He thought about that for a moment as his hand seemed to settle naturally on the curve of Bree's hip. He hadn't realized that before, but it was true. His relationships were about him and the woman he was involved with at the time. It wasn't an "It takes a village" kind of thing.

A real relationship was, though. The forever kind, anyway. It was a blending of families and friends. It was sharing everything, not just bodies and time.

Okay, so he'd done the intimacy thing one-on-one, but maybe true relationship intimacy meant bringing the woman into his whole life.

And that's where things were easy with Bree. And complicated.

The hard part should have been bringing a woman into his life. Incorporating her into the family, making sure his friends liked her, finding someone who supported his work.

The s.e.x was easy.

With Bree it was the other way around.

Bree was already a huge part of his life. She was involved with his family and friends and hometown and memories and was supportive and interested in his work, even to the point of getting involved in it herself.

"Okay, so we've got three Crock-Pots, and then we can do some of it in the oven. Max, you're in charge of chicken. Bree, you do noodles. Sam, you're on broth. Ready?"

"Sure," Max said. "But why are you making enough chicken and noodles to feed a small country?"

Jodi laughed. "There are thirty families in town who have extra people living with them because their homes aren't livable. The rest of us are helping with meals and supplies. Having a whole other family move in with you means going through food and laundry detergent and toilet paper at double the rate."

Max nodded and felt a surge of pride for these two people he called his parents. They were good people. People he sincerely liked as well as loved.

"I'm totally ready to do noodles," Bree said, clapping her hands together. "As soon as you tell me what I'm supposed to do with them."

Jodi laughed and grabbed Bree's hand, pulling her up beside her. "Right here, honey. I'll show you."

Bree was someone he liked as well as loved, too.

Max felt such a sense of rightness watching the scene in front of him that he almost couldn't breathe.

"I know what you're thinking," Sam said to him quietly.

"You do?" Max asked. Somehow he believed that his dad knew how much Max wanted what was right in front of him.

"There is something very s.e.xy about a woman and chicken and noodles."

Max rolled his eyes and laughed. He didn't want to talk to his dad about what was s.e.xy or what wasn't. But Sam was right. "Let's just leave it at that."

Sam chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. "We love Bree, Max. This is great."

Yeah, it was. It was really great.

And he needed to get her in his bed as soon as possible.

Not in a ditch, not against a wall in a locker room. His bed. Or better yet, her bed. So that every time she got between the sheets, she thought of him, and so that when he made love to her for the first time and truly made her give him everything, it was in the most intimate place in her life.

Max shook that off for the time being and got ready to help his mother feed half the town. He and his parents and the woman he loved would pull together to help their town, and their friends and neighbors, because that's who they all were.

And then he was going to show Bree McDermott that she was going to give him the rest of who she was.

Two hours later, Bree washed her hands, dried them on Jodi Grady's dish towel, and looked out the kitchen window.

And had a hard time taking a deep breath.

She'd washed her hands, gotten drinks of water, rinsed plates, and cleaned b.l.o.o.d.y sc.r.a.pes in that sink. The plastic stool in the cupboard under the sink that she'd used to reach the faucet when she was little was still there.

She felt completely at home in this kitchen. She knew the gla.s.ses were in the cupboard above the countertop where they piled their mail. She knew the silverware was in the drawer next to the refrigerator. She knew the peanut b.u.t.ter was in the corner cabinet above the coffeepot. But the coffee grounds were in the cupboard above the stove-for some reason.

Moving around the kitchen, cooking and talking and laughing with Max's family, felt very comfortable. And it made her heart race in a new way. In a way she thought Maggie Norman would appreciate. Like the times her beloved husband had made her heart thump just by playing with their kids or fixing the leaky bathroom sink. Being a part of tonight with Max and his parents had felt like a comfortable old pillow she would always want to come home to.

She could absolutely see herself here helping with food for holidays and birthday celebrations, Sunday dinners and football Sat.u.r.days.

She could see herself making coffee and sitting at the table with Jodi as they frosted Christmas cookies. She could see herself convincing Sam he wanted one more piece of pie. She could see herself pulling out that plastic stool and helping little kids up on it to wash their hands and fill gla.s.ses of water.

That was the part that made it especially hard to breathe.

Those kids wouldn't be Max's nieces and nephews. He didn't have any siblings.

If there were little kids in this kitchen, they would be his.

If she were helping with them, they would also be- "Bree?"

She spun away from the sink, sucking in a deep breath. "Hey."

Max had been in the living room having coffee with his parents a minute ago. Bree had come into the kitchen to refill her cup.

He gave her a funny look. "You okay?"

"Yes, of course. Definitely. No problem at all."

He was clearly suspicious of that. "You sure?"

"Yes. I'm completely fine."

She really was. What was wrong with thinking about family dinners and Christmas cookies? Nothing. It was all nice stuff. Fine stuff.

Of course there was the small issue of the kids and the plastic stool.

Kids were really long term. Marriage and family-that was big stuff. That was not stuff that she could get bored with and move on from.

"I was hoping I could take you home."

Oh boy. His words sent a shiver down her spine. There was promise in his eyes. Promise. Not l.u.s.t, not heat, not desire.

A lot more than that.

And the shiver was part want and part worry.

"I'm good. I'm fine," she said, waving her hand in a no-big-deal gesture. "I'm going to head out now. Big day tomorrow."

She started to skirt around him, but Max grabbed her arm before she got past him.

"Bree."

She took a deep breath and risked looking up into his eyes. "Tonight was so great."

"It was," he agreed. "I want it to be even better."

She swallowed. This was Max. She had to be honest. "I know you do. And I'm not sure I can do that. Tonight. Right now."

"You're feeling it, too."

"What?"

He gave her a look. "You're feeling it, too."

Finally, she nodded. "Yeah. I am." She was feeling every bit of how right this was, how much hope and happiness was in the air, how big this was, how . . . permanent.

She wanted Max. She wanted the mind-blowing physical stuff, the rush he gave her, and the amazing friendship she'd always had plus all the new things-the working together, the quiet nights on the couch, the way her heart flipped when he walked into a room. But tonight she'd finally understood that to have it all, she had to give it all.

"Okay, I'm going to let you go home and feel it by yourself tonight. But I'm not going to keep letting you go. You need to know that."

The shiver that followed was a lot more want than worry.

She nodded. "Thanks."

"I will see you tomorrow." There was a lot of promise in that, too.

He leaned in, kissed her temple, and let her go.

Bree escaped before he changed his mind. There was still the throw-you-over-my-shoulder thing he'd threatened . . . that she kind of wanted to see.

She said good night to Jodi and Sam and made it to her house and into her bathtub with a bottle of beer before she let herself think anymore.

But once she'd sunk into the warm, bubbly water-one of her very rare feminine-pampering-girlie indulgences-she couldn't stop thinking.

Max.

Max's family. Max's family home. Their hometown.

G.o.d, it had felt so good over there tonight.

It had been dangerous going over there. Bree had known that. She'd known spending a quiet night, a normal night, with Max would very likely result in deepening their relationship, moving it on to whatever was next.

But whether it was the addition of his parents or the noodles or just him-as in "It would have happened anyway"-this had turned out a lot more dangerous than she'd expected.

She sank down deeper in the bubbles.

And the most dangerous part was yet to come.

Max wanted the intimacy. Sure, part of that was sitting on the couch together and making dinner together and talking about their work. All of that had been surprisingly easy to give him.

The next part she wasn't so sure about.

He wanted s.e.xual intimacy. He might pull out the silk ties and the blindfold-her heart sped up slightly at that thought-but she knew it would be a lot more than s.e.xy or exciting or hot. It would be . . . the end of their relationship as they knew it.

Was she ready for that?

Max had always been there. He was, as she'd told Kit, comfortable and easy for her. But as her thoughts spun, she had to admit there was a lot more steady and comfortable in her life than she usually realized. Her parents had lived in the same house all her life. She'd been filling up her gas tank and buying gummy bears and licorice at the same convenience store. The grocery store specifically stocked her brand of ice cream because she bought so much of it and had for so long. She ordered the same thing at the diner every time she went in. She listened to the same radio station in her patrol car every day.

She was a lot more stable and set than she gave herself credit for.

Than Max gave her credit for.

Bree sat up quickly in the tub, water sloshing up against the side.

Max was wrong.

He was wrong about her not being able to decide what she wanted, and he was definitely wrong about her not being able to fall in love.

She stood up swiftly, water and bubbles sluicing down her body, and grabbed for her towel. Then she noticed the still-full beer bottle next to the sink.

She didn't need it. She knew it wouldn't help her restlessness. It wouldn't-couldn't-give her the rush she was seeking. The rush she'd been looking for since even before the tornado. But just like the tornado that had taken Dorothy to Oz, Bree had landed in a new world after the one that had hit Chance. A new world where she'd figured out that what she'd always wanted had been right in front of her the whole time.

Bree took the bottle and turned it over in the sink, watching the amber liquid foam and swirl as it ran down the drain.