Lovers at Heart (The Bradens, Book One: Love in Bloom Series)

Chapter Eighteen, Lovers at Heart

Chapter Eighteen

NO. NO, NO, NO. There was absolutely no way that she’d just seen Treat mid-kiss with some blond woman. No way. Life could not be that cruel. Max took another look out the window, and the confidence she’d bolstered over the last twelve hours took a nosedive.

I’m an idiot. A moron. A fool. She sank down into her seat and tried her best to hold back the sobs that were blooming in her chest. She pressed the sleeve of her sweatshirt to her eyes. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. He isn’t mine to cry over.

“Are you okay?” the older man sitting next to her asked in a sympathetic voice.

Max nodded, hoping he wouldn’t notice her trembling chin.

“Are you sure? Because you look mighty upset.”

Why was he being nice to her? She wasn’t asking for help, and when she looked into his old gray eyes, she felt like crying even more.

“I am a little upset,” she admitted.

“I thought you might be. You’re too pretty of a gal to let anything make you so upset. Wanna talk about it?”

Max smiled. “No, thank you. It’s a little embarrassing.”

The old man scratched his head. “Alrighty then. Did you enjoy the festival?”

“Yes, it was nice,” she answered as the shuttle ambled along the busy road.

“Are you from around here?” he asked. “Wait. Don’t answer that. Just say this for me. Park the car in the Harvard yard and party hearty.” Every “ar” came out as “ah.”

Max laughed. “I know this one.” She feigned a New England accent. “Pahk the cah in the Hahvahd yahd and pahty hahty.”

“So, you are from around here,” he teased.

“Colorado, actually. Well, that’s where I live now.”

He told her the history of the festival and about how it had changed through the years, but Max was too lost in her own sorrow to hear any of the details. She listened instead to the calming cadence of his voice. By the time the shuttle stopped at White Crest Beach, Max’s tears were no longer falling. She shook the nice old man’s hand and thanked him for making her feel better.

“If you just got in today, you probably don’t have any dinner plans,” he said. “You’re welcome to have dinner with me and the missus, if you’d like. I’m sure Vicky would enjoy having company. And I promise you, no oysters.”

Max thought about her options. With the crowds she’d spent the day maneuvering through, she was sure she’d never get a dinner reservation, and she hadn’t passed a single fast food restaurant as she drove up the highway. She wasn’t hungry anyway, after the all the oysters she’d eaten, and she still needed to find a place to stay.

“There she is now,” he said as a woman pulled up in an old pickup truck.

“Chris, are you bothering that young lady?”

“No, he’s been really sweet,” Max said. The woman wore her long gray hair pulled back in a ponytail much like Max’s, and her wide smile brightened her friendly blue eyes.

“She just got into town today, and I was inviting her to have dinner with us,” he answered.

“Why, sure! I have plenty of salmon and chicken, corn on the cob, and I know we have enough Jell-O for desert,” the woman said. “By the way, I’m Vicky Smith, Chris’s better half. His manners could use a good overhaul.”

“I don’t know,” Max said. The responsible side of her wondered if she was getting herself into an unsafe situation. They seemed nice enough, but...Just then a car pulled up with another older couple in it.

“Hey, Vicky. Y’all coming to the bonfire tonight?” a man asked out the window.

“Oh yeah, we’ll be there,” Vicky answered. “Hey, Marge.” She waved to a woman walking by. “You coming to the bonfire?”

“I’ll be there!” The woman continued on her way.

Max watched the interactions, and unless she had entered some alternate Stephen King universe where the entire town was involved in hacking up tourists, she found them very kind and welcoming. Why shouldn’t she go spend some time with them? After all, it didn’t look like she’d be able to rent a room anyway, but even if she could, what would she do in a hotel room by herself? Listen to her heart break a little more every time she thought of Treat?

MAX HELPED Vicky with the dishes while Chris gathered blankets and chairs for the bonfire. Max had been hungrier than she’d thought she was, and the meal was delicious. She was glad she’d accepted their generous invitation. But now that the conversation had stalled, thoughts of Treat came rushing back, and sadness wrapped itself around her heavy heart.

“Did you come out just for the festival this weekend?” Vicky asked as she scrubbed a plate, and then handed it to Max to dry. She reminded Max of her own grandmother, who had died ten years earlier. She had the same generous spirit and made the same type of quippy remarks to Chris as her grandmother had made to her grandfather.

“No.” I came searching for a man I didn’t really think was here, but he is, with another woman.

“Work?” Vicky pressed.

“No, not work.” Max dried another dish and placed it on the counter.

“Love?”

Max didn’t respond.

Vicky set down the dish she was scrubbing. “I’m gonna tell you what my mama told me many years ago. She said, ‘Men are like weeds. Some will strangle you until you can’t breathe, and some will strangle you once, see you can’t breathe, and till your soil for the rest of their lives to make sure you’re never strangled again.’ Then she would wink at me and say, ‘If he strangles you again, get your ass right back here. If he tills your soil, make me some grandbabies.’ And that was that. I’ve never looked back. You just need to find your tiller, Max.”

“Is she telling stories again?” Chris came into the kitchen with his coat on.

“Are you ready? Truck packed?” Vicky asked, drying her hands on a dish towel.

“All set. You gals ready?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Vicky answered.

“Max, did you bring a coat? It gets cold, even with the bonfire. Chris, grab one of my coats.”

“Are we going near where my car is parked?”

“Yup.”

“I have one in my car. I’ll be fine,” Max said, suddenly glad that she was tagging along. The weight of her stupid notion of fate stepping in had already begun to lighten with the distraction of dinner. Now, if she could only get the image of Treat and that woman out of her head, maybe she could move her feet to follow them toward the truck.