The Gamble
Page 165

“Nellie, let Nina and Max have a quiet night.”
“I can do quiet,” Mom replied.
Steve stared at her, brows raised and even Mom knew she had no hope of making the case for being able to do quiet.
Then Mom looked at me and her face fell before she whispered, “I never see you.”
I sighed, leaned into her and took her hand. “Yes, but soon I’ll be a short plane ride and a two hour car ride away, not a continent and an ocean away.”
Mom’s face grew gentle, her eyes moved to Max, na**d gratitude filled them and she looked back to me.
“Right, tonight you and Max get a cozy night, tomorrow I get you.” She looked back at Max and asked, “Deal?”
“Deal,” Max replied in his gravelly voice.
I started to release her hand but she held on tight and gave my hand a rough shake. “And Nina, sweetie, you ever run away from Max again and get yourself beat up, you’ll answer to me. Is that understood?”
Apparently I hadn’t calmed Mom down about my face so in order to do that, I used my other hand to cup her cheek, leaned even closer and I promised on a whisper, “Understood.”
She smiled at me, released my hand, I dropped my other one, we finished our drinks without any further drama and Max took me up the mountain.
Which brought me to now, tidying up the prep dishes with Max, in his kitchen, a new drama, at least for me.
This was because, firstly, Max was helping me tidy up. Niles could, if pressed (repeatedly), fill a dishwasher but mostly he ignored the dishes until his cleaning lady did them once a week. If I cooked for Niles, I did the clean up because Niles’s efforts were halfhearted at best and, if I let him try, it annoyed me so to avoid being annoyed, I just cleaned up.
Max was a natural.
Okay, so he didn’t wipe down the counters, he was more a rinse and load man, but he also was capable of putting away food which was a clear plus.
This drama was, secondly, because it dawned on me that this was my future, making dinner and tidying up with Max.
Why something this simple seemed overwhelming in a weirdly spectacular way I had no idea, but it did.
It was so spectacular, I was standing, the sponge in my hand after wiping down the counter and staring unseeing at Max, deep in my thoughts when he called, “Babe?”
My body jolted and I focused on him.
“What?”
“You all right?”
Yes I was all right. I was so all right, I had the desire to fling the sponge aside and throw myself at him bodily and show him how all right I was.
I didn’t do this. I just moved to him then around him to get to the sink and rinsed the sponge, saying, “Yes, just tired.”
Max moved in behind me, curling an arm around my middle and using his other hand to shift the hair off my shoulder. Then I felt his lips at my neck and his hand slid up to my ribs.
“You haven’t been favorin’ this, Duchess, that mean it feels okay?”
His hand, I realized, was over the boot bruise, a location, I also realized, he’d clearly memorized for he’d honed in on it with pinpoint accuracy.
My stomach melted yet again and I nodded, admitting, “A twinge here and there, if I move too fast, but mostly yes, I’m okay.”
“Good,” he muttered against my skin and then moved away.
I sighed happily and squeezed out the sponge, putting it on the edge of the sink.
Max got out plates, I got out the nachos. I loaded up our plates and gunked the chips up with all the extras while Max got us both a beer.
Then we took them into the living room where Max had started a fire. Even though it was snug, we squeezed into the chair together. I put my beer on the table and Max wedged his between his thighs, his stocking feet resting on the ottoman, ankles crossed. I curled facing him with my feet in the seat of the chair, my calves pressed tight against his lounging hip and we ate with plates in hand close to our faces.
“Do you think Shauna and Robert killed Curtis and the PI?” I asked after swallowing a big, delectable bite of loaded corn chip.
“No,” Max answered and I stared at him.
“You don’t?”
He shook his head and shoved nachos in his mouth.
“Evidence is indicating it’s her,” I pointed out.
Max swallowed then unwedged his beer and took a pull.
Wedging it back, his eyes came to me. “Believed it the other day, what you said. Now, the drywall dust? That I don’t believe. Someone’s framin’ her.”
“Really?”
He lifted a chip heavy with meat, cheese and fixings and replied, “Really.” Then he stuffed it in his mouth and after chewing but before swallowing, he noted, “Your nachos are better than your fish pie.”
“You think?”
“Absolutely,” he swallowed and finished, “fuckin’ great.”
I smiled, pleased beyond reason that he liked my nachos. It felt like he’d told me he thought I could rule the world while carrying on a successful career as a supermodel.
“Thanks,” I muttered, suddenly feeling timid though still pleased and I looked at my plate and scooped up a chip.
“Duchess,” he called and my eyes went from my chip to him to see he was grinning at me. “Honey, you gotta know you can cook.”
“Um…” I mumbled and he shook his head.
Then he turned his attention back to his plate, murmured, “Cute,” and scooped up his own chip.
I decided, since he was being nice and I still wasn’t used to that, to change the subject.
“So, why does the drywall put you off the idea of Shauna doing the deed?” I asked and put my chip in my mouth.
“Woman isn’t stupid,” Max muttered after swallowing and while digging out another chip.
“You found out she was fooling around with Curt while she was with you,” I reminded him.
“She wanted me to, thought it’d make me jealous,” Max told me.
“Oh,” I whispered and picked up another chip.
“Shauna wouldn’t be sloppy. That’s sloppy. Clearin’ out her house and not cleanin’ away evidence?” Max shook his head, grabbed his beer and muttered, “Sloppy.” He took a drink, I twisted to get my beer and twisted back.
“So who did it?” I asked.
“Who knows? Someone who hated Curt, someone who hated Shauna and town’s full of them.”
This was true and one could almost feel sorry for the both of them.
But only almost.
I sipped beer then queried, “And Kami?”