Blossom Street Brides (Blossom Street #10)(21)

“I still can’t believe you rode all those hours to be here,” Bethanne said, as she stepped into the kitchen and turned off the security alarm.

“I can’t, either.” He waited until they were inside the house before he brought his wife into his arms and kissed her with both hunger and need. She came warm and willing into his embrace, and his doubts fled. Bethanne loved him. She’d chosen to marry him.

When the kiss ended, they simply looked at each other.

With her arms looped around his neck, she leaned her head back. “Have you had dinner?”

“No.” In his eagerness to reach his wife, Max had barely stopped for anything more than fuel and water. At some point midway through Oregon, Rooster convinced him to pause long enough to eat a sandwich, which he’d done, but that had been hours earlier.

“Me, neither.”

“Do you want to go out?” Max felt obliged to ask.

“No. Let me check what I’ve got here.”

Max wasn’t eager to head out to a restaurant, either, and was grateful Bethanne felt the same way. As it was, he was half dead on his feet. He followed his wife into the main part of the kitchen. He sat down at the counter while she rummaged through the refrigerator.

“It’s either a chicken taco salad—”

“Anything.” He wasn’t picky. Cocking his head, he enjoyed the view of Bethanne bending over while she sorted through the refrigerator drawers. She had a mighty fine-looking derriere.

“I could make us veggie burgers.”

“No, thanks.” He was a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy. “I prefer real meat.”

“Really.” She turned around and braced her hands on her hips. “You ate a veggie burger the last time you were here.”

“That was a veggie burger?” Max remembered it distinctly. He’d complimented Bethanne on it. She’d cut up thick slices of tomato and thin slices of onion, added pickled jalapeños along with melted cheese and fried bacon. They’d planned to eat out on the deck, but it’d started to drizzle so they’d stayed in the kitchen. Afterward they’d watched a movie and she’d sat in his lap. All too soon he lost interest in the movie as they got involved in each other. Taking him by the hand, Bethanne had led him up the stairs to the bedroom.

“As I recall, you didn’t complain about the veggie burger then.”

“You distracted me.”

“It seems to me I could easily distract you again,” she teased.

“Without hardly trying,” Max assured her, chuckling softly.

“Veggie burger or chicken taco salad?”

“Veggie burger,” he decided. “Do you want me to slice the tomatoes and onions?”

“Please.” Bethanne brought what she needed out of the refrigerator and set it on the countertop while Max got out the cutting board and knife.

He didn’t want to start off their time together on a negative note, but this thing with Grant burned in his chest like a hot coal fresh from the fire.

Hoping to casually bring up the subject, he asked, “Have you talked to Grant today?”

“No. What makes you ask?”

The slight edge in her voice didn’t escape his notice. “No particular reason.”

Bracing her hands against the edge of the kitchen counter, she stared him down. “I don’t want you to waste energy on being jealous over Grant when there’s no reason.”

“I’m not jealous; I’m concerned.”

“You don’t need to be. I’ve got this.”

The last thing Max wanted was for them to continue the argument that had brought him to Seattle in the first place. “Then I’ll leave the matter in your capable hands.”

Max saw the tension leave her shoulders.

“Thank you.”

Bethanne rewarded him with a probing kiss that he felt all the way to the bottom of his feet. “I’m thinking,” he said, still breathless, his eyes closed, “that we might want to delay dinner.”

“We have plenty of time for what you’re thinking, big boy. You’re starving, and so am I.”

Max chuckled, and, drawing in a stabilizing breath, he continued with the task at hand.

“Where’s Rooster staying?” she asked, as she placed bacon in the frying pan.

“In a hotel somewhere in the downtown area.”

“He’s a good friend.”

Rooster had repeatedly proved his loyalty and friendship. “I know of none better.”

She paused and looked to Max. “Why do you think he’s never married?”

Max hadn’t really given the matter much thought. “Can’t really say. His parents are both gone, and he looked after them while in his late twenties and early thirties. The truth is, I think he’s a bit shy.”

“Rooster?”

“Looking at him, you’d never guess that, would you? I suspect he just hasn’t found the right woman; when he does, he’ll make his move.”

Bethanne sighed, and now that the onions and tomatoes were sliced, Max moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “What was the sigh about?” he asked, kissing the side of her neck.

“I’m a romantic.”

“So I’ve noticed.”