Around two, she pulled the last tray of peanut butter cookies from the oven and placed them on a cooling rack, when a sharp knock sounded on the kitchen door.
A blast of cold air came through when she opened it to find Max on the steps, hands stuffed in his front pockets. “The battery was shot. I put another one in and fixed the window washer. And you were a quart low on oil. You’re good to go now.”
Before she worked through his brief statement, he turned toward his house.
“Wait!” She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off some of the chill. She moved to the top step and pulled the door shut behind her.
Max stopped but said nothing.
“What do you mean you put another one in?”
“I thought I was pretty clear.”
“I can’t—I don’t…”
He sighed and stepped toward her. “Look, I work at the auto parts store. I get stuff at a discount. It’s no big deal.”
“It is to me!” She shivered from the cold and growing anger at his presumptuousness. “I can’t pay for it. Take it back.”
“And how will you get to work and your daughter to school?”
“I’ll—I’ll think of something. Take it back.”
“No.” He headed toward his house.
“What do you mean no?”
He ran long, slender fingers through non-existent hair. “Look. You’re making a big deal out of this. I don’t want anything, anything from you. Got that? Call it a neighborly act or whatever. I ain’t taking it back.” He looked at her a moment, tight features relaxing a miniscule amount. “Your teeth are chattering. Go inside where it’s warm.”
“Do you like peanut butter cookies?”
The warmth inside the kitchen blindsided Max and it wasn’t just heat from the stove or the mouth-watering aroma of fresh-baked cookies. Everything shouted home to him, or at least what he thought home would be like, though he had no personal experience with it. Growing up in a broken foster care system, home was an unfamiliar concept.
He pulled his thoughts away from that dark corner. Ancient history. He survived. Just like he survived the ambush. Over and done. End of story. Move forward.
A sudden cramp in his leg reminded him he’d skipped the daily stretches, and he swallowed a groan.
“Please, sit down. I’ll get you some coffee.”
His hostess motioned to the table, and he sat in the chair she had used earlier this morning. He stretched his leg out to loosen the cramp. If she noticed his discomfort, she didn’t comment, which suited him fine.
She placed a mug of coffee in front of him, along with a plate of cookies. One whiff of those peanut buttery morsels, and his stomach growled loud enough to be heard, which brought an embarrassed flush to his cheeks.
Once again, if she noticed, she didn’t comment.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any cream for the coffee since I drink mine black. I do have some milk, though. And sugar.”
“Black is fine. Thanks.” Suddenly nervous about what to say or do next, he sat there with his hands on either side of the cup.
The chance I wanted is right here, and I’m a tongue-tied imbecile. Just fricking great.
“I hope the coffee is all right. It might be a little strong.”
He took the hint. The rich, aromatic brew assailed his nostrils. “If it tastes as good as it smells, I’m sure it will be fine.” More than fine. It was perfect. “Great coffee, ma’am.”
Her cheeks took on a rosy hue, and her face brightened with a smile that lit up the room. “Thank you.”
Not for the first time, he noticed her delicate beauty and extraordinary eyes. A rich, hazel color lit from within with a golden glow, they darted around the kitchen, not focusing on any one thing.
Those auburn curls were trussed up with this weird hair clip do-dad. An insane urge to remove it engulfed him. He reached for a cookie instead.
“About the battery—”
“I love peanut butter cookies.” He downed one whole and chased it with coffee.
“How much—”
“They’re my favorite.” He picked up another. “Especially ones like this with peanut chunks inside.”
“I need to—”
“Everyone raves about chocolate chip.” He studied the morsel in his hand. “But I bet it’s because they never tasted a peanut butter cookie like this.”
Her shoulders sagged, and her head drooped a little. “How can I ever repay your kindness?”
Uncomfortable with such sincere gratitude, he finished off the last of the treats on his plate. “Cookies are fine with me.”
