A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(31)

He frowned and then nodded.

Bethanne wasn’t sure how she knew it, but she did. Living the life of a drifter probably meant he didn’t have children. No roots. No ties. Free to roam wherever the wind took him.

“Grant married Tiffany,” she said.

“Good for him.”

“Then she left him.”

Max smiled. So did Bethanne.

“You’re supposed to say it served him right.”

“Served him right,” Max echoed.

“He’s divorced now and—”

“He wants you back.”

Bethanne gaped at him. “How’d you know?”

“Makes sense. Are you going to take him back?”

That was the million-dollar question. “I don’t know…I just don’t know.” Bethanne wasn’t an indecisive woman; she’d learned not to be in the six years since Grant had walked out. This question, however, left her stomach in knots and her mind in a state of confusion. Fortunately, an answer wasn’t immediately required. She had time.

Before she could say more, the tow truck rounded the corner. “Max?” she whispered. “Listen, I might not get a chance later but I wanted to thank you.”

He lifted one shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

Unable to stop herself, she briefly, gently, touched his hand. Despite their physical contact on the bike, this was different. More intentional, more…personal. She felt the urge to at least try to comfort him, to show him how sorry she was about his wife’s death.

From the look on his face she could see that her gesture had jolted him. He stared down at her and frowned.

Then, just as she removed her hand from his, Max stepped toward her.

Tentatively, he circled her waist with his arms and she returned his embrace. His pulse thundered in her ear. Slowly, ever so slowly, his hold tightened. She felt him inhale deeply and closed her eyes at his touch. She wanted to weep; she didn’t understand why.

Max’s hands moved over her back, caressing her.

“It gets easier,” she whispered. “I promise you it does.”

Max brushed his lips against her hair, then dropped his arms and stepped back.

“Thank you,” she said, feeling foolish and sentimental.

The tow truck driver climbed out of his rig and walked toward them but before she left, Bethanne had one last thing to say. She couldn’t meet Max’s eyes. “Your Kate must have been very special,” she said softly.

Max reached for his helmet. He didn’t speak for a long time and then murmured, “She was.”

Ten

“I don’t like this. I don’t like this one bit,” Ruth told her granddaughter as Bethanne left riding behind that biker. For all they knew, Max could be some kind of…hoodlum. She’d read about motorcycle gangs, and while she doubted that these four belonged to any organized group, she was sure they couldn’t be trusted.

“What alternative do we have?” Annie asked.

Ruth feared they’d been far too quick to let Bethanne leave with Max. They knew absolutely nothing about these men, other than the fact that they weren’t capable of fixing a carburetor. “We should’ve done what we originally planned—waited until dusk and then walked to the highway.” In retrospect, Ruth regretted not insisting they do exactly that.

“And take our chances hitchhiking into Wells?” Annie shook her head. “I doubt that people who pick up hitchhikers can be trusted, either, Grandma. At least we’ve seen these men before.”

Annie could be right. Hitchhiking into town didn’t sound too appealing and it could make them even more vulnerable. She tapped her fingers nervously on the car’s hood while she worried about Bethanne alone with that biker.

“Why didn’t I listen to Robin?” Ruth muttered. She’d assumed Robin was being overprotective. Because of her experience in court, dealing with criminals day in and day out, Robin had a polluted view of humanity. She trusted no one and seemed to look for the bad in people, to expect it. All with good reason; Ruth understood that, but it saddened her.

Ruth’s job now, she felt, was to protect Annie in case these men decided to take advantage of her granddaughter. She drew Annie away from them to stand beneath the shade of the only tree, which happened to be several feet off.

“We should make contingency plans,” she whispered, although there was little chance the men could overhear their conversation.

“How?”

“In case…” Ruth didn’t want to say it. “You know.”

Annie gave her an odd look. “You mean we should dismantle their motorcycles so they couldn’t come after us if we ran away?”

Ruth hadn’t thought of that, but it was an excellent idea. “Good plan,” she said approvingly.

Annie rolled her eyes. “Grandma, I was only joking!”

“That would be our insurance.”

Annie frowned. “I don’t think—”

“It’s what Robin would suggest.”

“Yes, but Aunt Robin—”

Ruth already knew what her granddaughter was about to say. She agreed, but they didn’t have time to discuss Robin. If they were going to act, they had to do it now. “I’ll distract the men and then you do whatever one does to make motorcycles refuse to start.”