An Accidental Mom (9 page)

“Ditto,” he said.

“Ditto? What’s ‘ditto,’ Dad?”

“It means ‘I feel the same way.’”

He hadn’t lowered his voice, hadn’t even attempted to keep her from hearing him, Lily noticed.

For the moment, she forgot the promise she’d made to herself. Dismissed the possibility that Max was just being “nice.” Why not enjoy the possibility that he had feelings for her that went beyond the boundaries of friendship—just for the moment, of course.

“Is Missy allowed in the house?”

“Sure,” Lily said over her shoulder.

“My friend in Chicago had a dog but it wasn’t allowed inside. Which was weird, ’cause he had a big ol’ green lizard with pointy things on his back, and his mom let him keep
that
in his bedroom!”

What would they talk about?

Something told her that with Nate around, topics of conversation wouldn’t be a problem.

Max’s quiet, masculine laughter floated on the chilly November breeze as Lily bit her lower lip to keep from saying
Thank you, Lord!
out loud.

T
he kitchen was warm with the scents and sounds of festive Thanksgiving preparation. On the stove, lids danced atop steaming pots, while on the counter, loaves of home-baked bread, rolls and biscuits, blanketed with blue-striped towels, sat in orderly rows. The timer
ding
ed, and Lily put down the potato peeler to grab an oven mitt.

Max had intended to join her here, and offer to help if he could. But in the minute or so since he’d rounded the corner, he’d stood, mesmerized. It surprised him to see Lily alone in the room, handling each womanly chore with deft precision; he’d expected to find all three of the London girls in there with her, laughing and talking as they put the finishing touches on the Thanksgiving banquet. Surprised, but relieved, because this way, he could watch her unnoticed.

She’d piled her long, thick hair atop her head with a green plastic band that matched her shirt. Wisps of
hair that had escaped the upsweep curled in the hollow at the back of her neck; a few more formed bouncy ringlets beside her ears. He’d give anything to press a gentle kiss to those lovely lobes.

After painting the turkey with a thick coat of melted butter, she covered it with a tent made of aluminum foil and closed the oven door. The bracelet he’d given her caught a beam of light, forcing his attention to her slender wrist. Max wouldn’t mind placing a soft kiss there, either.

Suddenly, she began humming a tune he hadn’t heard since boyhood. Smiling, he pocketed his hands and leaned on the door frame. He’d forgotten what a beautiful voice she had. Crossing one booted ankle in front of the other, he listened, captivated by her voice, her movements. She was a vision, a dream come to life.

“’Over the river and through the woods,’” she sang. Then, without looking up, she said, “You remember the words, Max, feel free to sing along.”

Chuckling, he shook his head. “How long have you known I was here?”

When she met his eyes, his heart thumped and his stomach lurched. She was ravishing, what with her heat-pinked cheeks and big green eyes. And that smile… She could charm the leaves from the trees with that smile, Max thought.

“Not long,” she said.

Something told him she’d seen him the instant he’d appeared in the doorway, and she’d only said “not long” to spare him any embarrassment. Even as a kid, Lily had gone out of her way to make others feel
good, even if it meant taking it on the chin herself. And he’d always loved her for that.

Loved? No, Max admitted. Nothing past tense about it.

He took a few steps closer. “Anything I can do to help?”

She cocked her head, gave it a moment’s thought. “As a matter of fact, there is.”

“Your wish is my command,” he said. He bowed, more to keep her from reading his emotions than to emulate a gentleman. Because there was no getting around it: Max didn’t think he could deny her anything, ever.
Just part of the problem,
he admitted. Years ago, love for Lily had made him feel guilty, because even at eighteen, he’d known how inappropriate his feelings for her were because of their age difference. He’d been too young, too immature back then to understand what motivated his reaction to her. But he understood it now. Her father had been right when he’d said her heart was as big as her head. Even as a callow youth, Max had sensed that she was good—that she’d be good for
him.

“You can go into the dining room, see how Cammi and Violet and Ivy are doing. They swore they could fit all twenty-six of us at the table, and I’m dying to find out how they did it…if they did it!”

Much as he wanted to do what she’d asked, Max couldn’t leave the kitchen. It felt good in here, cozy and comfortable. “Why don’t we just wait ’til it’s time to put stuff on the table. Let it be a surprise.”

“I’ve never been too keen on surprises.” She held
up the paring knife, used it as a pointer and grinned. “You can peel potatoes, instead, if you’d rather.”

Laughing, Max held up his hands and ducked out the door, saying, “I’ll be back in a second.”

“Thank you!” he heard her say as he stepped into the dining room.

Immediately, he could see that her sisters had been busy. The already-long dining room table where he’d shared many a Sunday dinner as a boy had been lengthened even more by the addition of two card tables at each end. Their thin brown-painted legs looked weak and flimsy by comparison to the sturdy light oak that supported the main table. China, crystal and silver glinted in the light of the ornate chandelier overhead. Mismatched chairs, mixed among those that matched the table, lent a casual warmth to the elegance.

Lily was whipping potatoes when he returned to the kitchen. “Couldn’t find them,” he reported, stepping up beside her. “But the job’s done and it looks great. Only thing missing is food.”

She spooned a dollop of sour cream into the mashed spuds. “Mmm, perfect,” she said over the
whir
of the electric mixer. “Would you do me one more favor—ask the girls to come help me put the food on the buffet?”

“You bet.”

“Thanks, Max.”

He tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear, allowed his crooked finger to graze her lightly freckled cheek. Max leaned close and kissed it, lingering for an in
stant because she smelled like flowers and line-dried sheets and sweet butter.

Lily stiffened slightly at first, and just when he thought she’d tell him to back off, she faced him and, closing her eyes, invited him to kiss her again—for real this time.

It was an offer he couldn’t refuse.

The moment pulsed and crackled, like the energy that surged through the cord, powering the mixer. She must have felt it, too, for she sighed and leaned closer, lifting the appliance from the deep pot as she did.

Egg-size blobs of mashed potatoes spun loose from the beaters and landed
splat,
on Max’s shoulder, on her cheek, on his forehead, on the back of her hand. Lips still pressed to his, she began to giggle. “Maybe we should share some of this with the rest of them.”

“No way,” he said, a forefinger to her full lower lip. “This is mine. All mine.”

Her smile vanished like smoke as she blinked up at him. What was going on in that pretty head of hers? he wondered. One thing was certain, the magic of the moment had disappeared. “Well, guess I’ll round up the relatives and herd them into the dining room.”

One delicate brow rose slightly as the hint of a grin lifted the corners of her lovely lips. “I’ll turn you loose, then,” she said, though one hand still held the mixer, the other the pot handle.

She had it all—a big heart, looks, brains, too many talents to list, and a sense of humor, too. “If I have the sense God gave a goose, I wouldn’t let you get away this time.”

He saw her swallow, heard her quick intake of air
as she looked left, right…anywhere but into his eyes. “Well,” she started, “I, um…”

Difficult as it was to let her go, Max pocketed his hands and headed for the door. “How long ’til soup’s on?” he said from the hall.

She cleared her throat. Touched fingertips to her lips. “Five minutes.” She looked away, then met his eyes to add, “Ten at most.”

Nodding, he walked away smiling to himself. His kiss had rattled her. Because she hadn’t expected it? Because she had enjoyed it every bit as much as he had? A frown replaced the smile at his last thought: Because she’d finally figured out he wasn’t right for her?

His heart had pounded during that kiss, but not half as hard as it hammered at
that
possibility. He walked into the family room, saw his son frolicking with Missy as the adults discussed the weather, politics, who’d win today’s football game.

“London girls,” he said, standing at attention and saluting, “report for kitchen duty.”

When the laughter ended, Cammi, Violet and Ivy hurried to the kitchen. “You’re such a nut!” Cammi said as she passed him.

“Y’gotta love a guy with a sense of humor,” Ivy chimed in.

His practiced smile hid the truth. He’d spent the past six years pretending to look happy. Obviously, since no one ever gave a hint they suspected his joviality was an act, he’d gotten pretty good at it.

What would it take, he asked himself as the ladies filed by, to make him happy…
truly
happy?

Lily stuck her head out the kitchen door and smiled, waving her sisters into the room. “I thought you’d abandoned ship!” she teased. “Everything’s ready—just needs to be put on the buffet.”

“You’re terrific, Lil,” Ivy said.

“But really, you should have let us help more,” Vi agreed. “I don’t know why you insisted on doing it all yourself.”

“I know why,” Cammi singsonged. “To show a certain…”

Her voice trailed off as she ducked into the kitchen, preventing Max from hearing the end of Cammi’s sentence. But it didn’t take a genius to figure out who Lily was trying to impress. So, had he misread her reaction when he’d cracked the “I wouldn’t let you get away” remark?

He hoped so. Because he knew exactly what would make him happy, now and until he breathed his last.

Being with Lily, that’s what.

“Dinner was great, Lily,” Georgia said. “If I’d known you could cook like that, Andy’s job would have been in jeopardy!”

Lily blushed and rolled her eyes. “Please. You never would have agreed to let me put paper doilies under the pies and cakes…too fancy for your truck driver clientele.”

Laughing, Georgia said, “You make a good point.” She turned to Robert and said, “Now?”

Grinning like a schoolboy, the doctor got to his feet, clinked the handle of his butter knife on his wa
ter goblet. “Excuse me. Ahem. May I have your attention, please?”

One by one, they stopped talking to look his way.

“I have an announcement to make. Or rather,” he said, one hand on Georgia’s shoulder, “
we
have an announcement.”

Max leaned toward Lily. “Here it comes,” he whispered, “the moment we’ve all been waiting for.”

“Robert asked me to marry him,” his mother said, fanning her face with her napkin, “and I said yes.”

The instant of silence was broken when Lily applauded. “Congratulations, you two!” she said, hurrying to their side of the table. She gave each of them a hug, a kiss on the cheek. “What wonderful, wonderful news!”

“I agree,” Max said, joining them. “It’s about time,
Dad
,” he added, jacking Robert’s arm up and down like a pump handle.

“Does that mean you’re my grandpa?” Nate asked.

Robert said, “Yep, it sure does.”

Lily and Max returned to their seats as Lamont stood. “Time for the traditional London family thank-you list.” He looked from Robert to Max, from Georgia to Nadine’s son and his family. “For those of you who’ve never joined us for Thanksgiving dinner, we have this ritual. Nobody gets dessert ’til they’ve shared one thing they’re thankful for.” He faced Lily. “Sweetie, why don’t you show ’em how it’s done.”

She sat back, hands folded primly in her lap, and said, “I’m thankful that every one of you is part of my life.” She faced Lamont. “Your turn, Dad.”

When it was Cammi’s turn, she grabbed Reid’s
hand. “I’m grateful to have the husband of my dreams to wake up to every morning.”

Nate said, “I’m thankful for having Lily’s blood in me, ’cause maybe it’ll make me into a good vettin-air-yun when I grow up.”

So much for “save the best for last,” Max thought, because now it was his turn. He’d never been much good at public speaking, and this came close enough. It made him nervous, made his voice waver, his hands shake and his ears hot—and an icy sensation snaked down his back. “Truth is, I have a lot to be thankful for,” he said. But if he had to single out one thing, as everyone else had, what would it be?

I rediscovered Lily,
he thought.

“How utterly romantic!” Ivy gushed.

“That’s one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard,” Vi agreed.

Ivy and Vi had been confusing him since high school. Now, their identical faces lit up as if they were still teenagers! Until the twins spoke up, Max hadn’t realized he’d said aloud what he’d been thinking. How was he going to dig himself out of
this
one!

His mouth was suddenly bone dry, his palms damp. He reached for his water glass and missed, spilling it across the tabletop and into Lily’s lap. “Aw, man. I’m such a clod,” he said, attempting to blot it with his napkin.

But she leaned forward at the same moment he had, and his chin connected with her eye.

Instantly, Lily’s hand covered the spot. “Self-defense,” he said, groaning inwardly. “Not that I blame you.” He slid his chair closer to hers, put an
arm around her. “I’m sorry, Lily. Man. I’m batting a thousand, aren’t I. You okay? Lemme see.”

“I have a hard head,” she said, smiling good-naturedly. “I’m fine.”

But she wasn’t. A tiny trickle of blood had already started creeping toward her cheek. “You’re not fine. You’re bleeding!” He grabbed his napkin, dipped it into her glass and tried to daub the tiny cut. Nate chose that moment to get a closer look and bumped Max’s elbow, causing him to poke Lily in the eye, instead.

“Good grief, Max,” his mother said, “stop helping her before you
really
hurt her!”

“He didn’t mean it, Georgia,” Nadine said. “Men sometimes get clumsy around girls they’re sweet on.” She pointed at a bruise on her forearm. “Got his one when Lamont tried to help me out of the car the other day.” She showed them a scratch on the opposite elbow. “And this is from when he boosted me into the saddle when we went riding the other day.”

A smattering of laughter punctuated her story. “You know what they say—‘love hurts,’” Lamont said, chuckling.

Their banter did little to ease Max’s guilt. He sat back, shoulders sagging, as Lily excused herself.

“I’ll just be a minute, guys. Help yourselves to dessert, why don’t you!”

Max rose halfway, intending to pull out her chair. At the last second, he decided against it, for fear he’d trip her with one of its legs. Not until she was safely out of the room did he get up. The others were busy
pointing to which dessert they’d like to cut into first; he hoped no one would notice he’d left the table.