“Hey babe,” Max called, shrugging off his canvas jacket and heading my way.
“Hi,” I replied and turned back to the veggies, stirring unnecessarily.
I heard the whispering sound of his jacket being hooked on a chair, I felt him get close, my hair was swept off my shoulder then I felt his lips at my neck.
This time that shiver went from my neck back down spine.
“Smells good,” he murmured when his head came up.
“Fish pie.”
“Mm.”
God, he could “mm” great in that gravelly way of his.
“Sorry I been gone so long,” he went on.
I picked up the cream and poured it into the veggies while asking, “Mindy’s apartment sorted?”
“Couldn’t find Damon. Did find out that the landlord has storage units at the complex, I got his shit out, put it in a unit and the landlord changed the locks on Mindy’s place.”
I didn’t like the idea of Mindy staying by herself, even with changed locks, so I turned to him and noted, “That doesn’t sound exactly sorted.”
“Yeah, but Mindy’s stayin’ at Becca’s for awhile, least until we know Damon’s permanently out of the picture and after I stopped by Bitsy’s I went to the Station, talked to Mick and Jeff and they’ll be keepin’ an eye on things. Not to mention, Becca’s talked with the totality of her neighbors and told them to keep an eye out for Damon and raise the alarm the minute he’s spotted.”
“That sounds more sorted,” I muttered, he smiled and I turned back to the skillet, swirling the cream with the veg.
Then I felt his fingertips trailing across the skin of my exposed back, sweeping my hair along with it.
The shiver came back, this time with goose bumps. I turned back to him.
Before I could speak, his eyes went from my shoulders to mine and he whispered, “Like this sweater, honey.”
Shyness hit me, sudden and nearly paralyzing. “Um…” I forced out, “thanks.”
He grinned then moved away asking, “You wanna beer?”
I turned back to the food and told myself to get it together but I told Max, “I’m going to have wine.”
“I’ll get it.”
I stirred the cream one more time, saw it begin to bubble and then turned off the stove, moving the skillet off the burner and I added in the rest of the ingredients for the sauce. Stirring it, I went to the casserole dish.
“You got three bottles of wine, which one you want?” he asked, his head in the fridge.
“The Pinot Grigio.”
“Gotcha,” he said and I heard the noise of a bottle sliding off a refrigerator shelf.
“How’s Bitsy?” I asked, still stirring, waiting for all the cheese to melt.
“Pissed, scared, in shock,” he answered, I heard him moving around then I heard kitchen noises then I saw a wineglass hit the counter beside the dish and Max was at my side with a bottle and bottle opener.
“Is she going to be okay?”
“Will be, it’ll take awhile. She isn’t cooperating, won’t talk to the police.”
I looked at him, surprised. “She won’t?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“She’s pissed, scared, in shock,” he repeated and I guessed if my husband was murdered by a contract killer while I was on holiday in Arizona and he was in bed with the town ice queen, I might not feel cooperative either.
“Is that why they need you?”
He looked at me and pulled the cork out of the wine. “Yeah.”
“I don’t understand,” I told him, because I didn’t.
“We’re close,” he said then said no more and I decided not to ask about Max being close to Bitsy, the wife of the dead man who sounded like his arch enemy.
It was strange, very strange, but I was presently dealing with another strange and not unpleasant feeling of moving around Max’s kitchen with Max like we’d done it every night for the last ten years. I didn’t have it in me to interrogate him about his relationship with the unknown Bitsy.
Instead I enquired, “Is she going to talk to the police now?”
“I’m takin’ her in tomorrow.”
I nodded then poured the sauce over the salmon and prawns before informing him, “Your sister came by.”
“Yeah, I hear, Mindy called. Said you tag teamed her but you dealt the death blow.”
I went to the sink and dropped the skillet in it saying, “I wouldn’t describe it like that.”
“How would you describe it?”
“Well, firstly, it wasn’t that dramatic.”
“Kami is all about drama, so I’m guessin’ you’re downplayin’ the situation.” Max finished pouring my wine, seemingly relaxed about the Kami situation, and set the bottle on the counter as I moved to stand in the front of the casserole dish and pulled the towel off the potatoes. He slid the wine close to me and headed to the fridge asking, “She act as big a bitch as Mindy said?”
I pulled in breath and scooped potatoes on the top of the sauced-up fish, uncertain how to answer.
I decided on, “She wasn’t um… exactly pleasant.”
Max sighed and I heard the top come off a beer. “She gets in moods.”
He could say that again.
“She brought you papers,” I told him.
“You look at them?” he asked and my eyes shot to his face.
“Of course not.”
He grinned and, coming close to me, he leaned a hip on the counter. “Why not?”
My head shook once, it was quick and it was short, then I repeated, “Why not?”
“Yeah, why not? I would. Anyway, you’re a lawyer, might be good to have you look ‘em over,” he stated before he took a drink of his beer.
“Are you thinking of taking the job?” I asked, again surprised.
“No fuckin’ way,” he answered instantly.
“Then why do you need a lawyer to look at them?”
“Just wanna know which way they’re thinkin’ of screwin’ me.”
“Kami said they sweetened the pot.”
“Yeah, I’m sure they did. Don’t mean there ain’t fine print.”
I went back to scooping potatoes. “It doesn’t sound like these are nice people.”
“They aren’t.”
“Then why would your sister want you to work for them?”
“I’m around more often, means she’ll have help lookin’ after Mom.”
I finished putting the potatoes on top; Max noticed and took the bowl from me, turned and headed toward the sink.
“Is your Mom all right?”
“Yeah,” he said, rinsing the bowl and skillet. “Just alone and doesn’t like it.” He turned off the tap and headed back to me. “Today, took care of Mindy’s shit, talked to Bitsy, hit the Station and then went to visit Mom. That’s why I’m late. She wanted to talk and then she wanted me to look at her kitchen sink. Spent part of the afternoon listenin’ to her bitch, another part in the hardware store, another part on my back on the kitchen floor under her sink.”
I looked down to the potatoes, smushing them around and coating the creamy fish, thinking of him taking care of Mindy, Bitsy, his Mom and what that meant about him then mumbling, “It’s good you look after your Mom.”
“It’s good, but isn’t fun.”
I looked at him and said softly, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said softly back then his hand came up and his finger touched my earring. I’d put my new ones in when I put away my shopping, impatient to see the way they looked then I liked the way they looked so I left them in.
“You got ‘em.”
“Yeah.”
He grinned then walked around me.
I grabbed the dish and put it in the pre-heated oven, closed the door, tinkered with the timer and set it. He came back when I went to the other counter, picked up my wine and took a sip.
After I swallowed, Max took my glass, set it on the counter and grabbed my right hand.