A Turn in the Road (Blossom Street #8)(65)

“Rooster was shocked that I told you.”

Turning onto her side, she kissed him again and then lay back in the sand, nestling her head on his shoulder. “From New Orleans, we’re only a day and a half from Vero Beach,” she said. “That’s where Ruth’s class reunion is taking place.”

“How long do you plan to stay in Florida?”

“A week. We’ll return the rental car at the Orlando airport and fly back to Seattle on June 19.”

He grew quiet.

“I should tell you that Grant will be in Florida at the same time. He says it’s for a Realtors’ convention in Orlando, but I know that’s only an excuse.”

“Grant loves you.”

“So he claims—but he said that to me every morning when he went to work and was actually sneaking off with Tiffany to some hotel room.” She sighed, a little disturbed by the surge of bitterness she felt. “The thing is, I don’t know if I can ever trust him again…or if it’s even possible to go back.”

Grant had surprised her, giving Bethanne these days with Max. Andrew had left a message on her cell the night before, saying Grant had phoned and offered to help with the wedding. It seemed Grant was trying not only with her but with their children.

“I should stay away from Vero Beach,” Max said. “If I showed up there, it might be awkward.”

“I don’t really care what Grant thinks,” she insisted. She wanted Max with her. “Come to Florida,” she urged.

“You’re letting this—” he gestured around him at the beach “—influence you. Us, together, all by ourselves. But as you’ve pointed out, your life’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“I know, but…”

“Besides, I can’t. I’m meeting my brother next week. I’d like to meet you there, but…it’s not a good idea. Not now. You have things to discuss with Grant, and I need to get back to California.”

“The only reason Grant decided to fly to Florida was to keep you away.”

“I don’t blame him,” Max said. “In his shoes, I’d do the same thing. He and I both understand that you have to make your own decision. So, take this time with him. Celebrate your son’s wedding, and when it’s over, I’ll be in touch.”

“What if—”

He didn’t allow her to finish, cutting her off with a deep, hungry kiss. “You can consider all the what-ifs later, but for now let’s just enjoy being together.”

By noon it was too warm to stay on the beach. They walked back to the house and sat out on the shaded deck. After searching through the refrigerator and cupboards, Bethanne found frozen lemonade mix and a pitcher. She prepared it, then poured them each a tall glass and added ice.

Rejoining Max, she brought out the drinks.

He sat with his head bent forward, brushing sand from his hair.

As Bethanne set the drinks on a small table, she noticed that he was badly in need of a haircut.

“You could use a trim,” she said.

“I know, but I’ve been chasing after this incredible woman and haven’t had time.”

“I used to cut Grant’s hair. I could cut yours.”

Max glanced up. “You cut your husband’s hair?”

“Don’t sound so shocked.”

Max’s eyes narrowed slightly. “From everything I’ve heard about Grant, he seems more like the type to pay for an expensive cut.”

“I’m sure he is now. In the early years we were short of cash and looked for ways to save money. I discovered I had a knack for cutting hair. He actually preferred me to do it because I knew exactly how he liked it.”

“You’re a woman of many talents.”

“So I’ve been told. I’m serious, Max, I’d be happy to give you a trim.”

“You have scissors?”

“Not with me but I found a pair in the kitchen that would work nicely.”

“Then, by all means, have at it.”

It’d been several years since she’d cut anyone’s hair but she was confident in her skills. While Max wetted down his hair in the laundry room sink, Bethanne got a towel from the hall cupboard. Then she dragged a kitchen stool onto the deck.

Max returned a few minutes later. She took one look at him, at his hesitancy, and smiled. “You don’t have a thing to worry about, so stop frowning.”

“I was just asking myself how well I really know you.”

“And how did you answer the question?” She patted the stool cushion, indicating he should sit.

“I decided I could trust you.”

“Good decision.”

She used the comb he supplied and started by cutting the small hairs that grew above the ears. Blowing the bits of hair away, she felt the tension leave his shoulders.

“I’m glad you’ve relaxed,” she said.

“Actually, I’ve been dreaming about you blowing in my ear.”

“I will as long as you whisper sweet nothings in mine.”

He laughed.

Bethanne chatted as she worked. The more she engaged him in conversation, the more at ease he became. Standing in front of him she examined her work and was pleased with the result so far. As she stepped back, he took her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed her palm. Goose bumps shivered up and down her arms.