Love Inspired August 2014 – Bundle 1 of 2 (29 page)

She nodded, the lump in her throat too big to let words past. She knew he’d been bitter.
JJ had told her some of it, and Max had managed to get himself into the papers and
the media for a variety of less-than-healthy behaviors in the early months after his
accident. It was what had kept her from calling Max to help with Simon in the first
place. She realized, looking at him now, that she’d projected a lot of her dad onto
Max because of how they’d both reacted to a tragedy. The men in her life until now
had left her with scars and numbness in places Max couldn’t see. She’d vowed to only
let people into her life who fought against bitterness, not those who succumbed to
it. She wasn’t completely sure yet which of those Max Jones was.

“Where are your mom and dad now?”

She picked a small stone up from the path beside her feet and fiddled with it. “They
split up my sophomore year in college. Dad couldn’t put the battle-ax down and Mom
couldn’t heal both him and me at the same time. I spent the summer of my freshman
year home from college at Grannie Annie’s because they were fighting so much by then.”

“What happened to the guy who hit the store?”

Oh, that was the million-dollar question, the thing that had turned Dad into the person
he became—and in some ways had turned her into the person she became. “Not enough,
really. He had rich, powerful parents who hired supersmart lawyers. They managed to
pull in a question of mechanical failure despite the guy’s blood-alcohol level. Eventually,
he pleaded into a deal that got him out in no time. I think that’s what got to Dad
most of all.” Heather dared a look up into Max’s face. All the smart aleck was gone.
Just the intensity of his eyes was left, warm where they had been defensive. She touched
her left leg. “I got the life sentence and he got off easy. Hard to swallow, if you
know what I mean.”

“I’m sorry.” It was almost a whisper, and Max looked down at his hands for a moment.
“I’m sorry, and that isn’t useless, is it?”

Something unfurled in Heather’s defenses. A tiny piece of her—one that had started
blooming larger at the Ping-Pong match—dared to believe that maybe Max wasn’t here
by mistake. Maybe Max was exactly who Simon needed.

And maybe more than just Simon.

Chapter Eight

“Y
ou were really good in there.” Alex grinned as he and Max got into the elevator after
an important work presentation Wednesday morning.

“Thanks.” Max pushed the button for the ground floor. “They weren’t too hard a crowd
to win over.”

“Maybe so, and you know persuasion is a specialty of mine, but I don’t think we’d
have gotten that much buy-in to the concept if you weren’t in the room. I’m still
just the guy with the good idea, but you’re the guy who proves it works.” Alex leaned
back against the elevator wall. “I’m glad you’re on board. Just saying.” After a second
he added, “Do you miss the boat biz?”

Max’s boat and cottage rental business in Gordon Falls had barely been getting by
when he was injured. Now JJ mostly ran it—and ran it well—when she wasn’t at the volunteer
fire department. “I can still dip my toes back in the water when I need to. And I’ve
got the
Sea Legs,
which is more fun than my desk any day. Besides, the business is doing better under
your wife’s management than it ever did under mine. She’s an outstanding employee.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “I thought JJ was a full partner now.”

She was. “I just get a kick out of calling her an employee. She’s not anymore, but,
you know, I just can’t seem to remember that.” Max tapped his head. “Blocked neural
pathways or something.”

“Uh-huh.” Alex checked his watch. “I’ve got another meeting at two, but you want to
grab some lunch? There was a café in the lobby and presentations always make me hungry.”

Max noticed a familiar look in Alex’s eyes. The one that signaled “a conversation.”
Trouble was, Max hadn’t quite figured out if the look meant a brother-in-law conversation
or an employee conversation. “Sure, I could eat. If I can get in there okay.”

“I scoped it out on the way in,” Alex admitted, which told Max this meal wasn’t as
spontaneous as it had sounded. “You’ll be fine.” Most places in larger cities and
towns, that was true—the world was becoming a more accessible place every day. But
Gordon Falls and other historic small towns still held their share of challenges.
The Gordon Falls Community Church hadn’t had a decent wheelchair ramp until last year.

“So,” Alex said carefully once they’d settled in with a pair of hefty sandwiches,
“JJ is worried about you.”

Max snickered. “JJ’s always worried about me.”

“Let me rephrase that.” Alex pinched the bridge of his nose. “JJ is worried about
you and Heather Browning.”

“I’ve already been given the full speech, Alex.” Max rolled his eyes. “I don’t need
it from you, too.”

“Hey.” Alex put up his hands. “I’m actually on your side here. But you know JJ. Friendships
are hard for her, and she is worried you’ll mess things up with Heather. You can’t
blame her, given your previous track record.”

“I haven’t dated anyone since the accident. I’ve been a very good little injured boy.”
His words had a little more edge than was perhaps necessary, but this was a sore spot.
“If I wanted to be mothered, I’d have moved back to Ohio.” Max ripped open his bag
of chips. “Go arrange for JJ to meet Luke Sullivan. The guy’s a predator on wheels.
Gave me a really
inspirational
speech about the leverage of pity when scoring with the ladies. You can tell JJ she
has nothing to worry about from me.”

The look of surprise on Alex’s face was satisfying. People held Sullivan up as a beacon
of inspiration. Max had half a mind to let a few things slip to the media about what
a boor the guy really was, only he didn’t have the heart to shoot any bad press toward
Paralympic sports.

“Charming. Remind me to take him off my list of potential spokespersons. Just proves
there can a jerk factor in any business, hmm?” Alex took a bite, but he was still
forming a conversation—Max could see the next question percolating behind his boss’s
eyes. “So you want to tell me what exactly
is
going on between you and Heather? I saw you walking out of the church service with
her, and that was a pretty wide grin you were wearing for a guy who just got dragged
into a funeral.”

Max still hadn’t decided how much he wanted to get into this with Alex. “I get a kick
out of helping her help Simon. You ought to understand how that feels.”

“Oh, I do. I get that. But Simon wasn’t out on the riverbank for half an hour with
you. And Simon hasn’t prompted you to ditch dinner with us—well, not yet anyway. I’m
glad you showed that night, but it would have helped if you hadn’t outlawed any conversation
regarding Heather at dinner. JJ thinks you’re hiding something from her. You know
how she gets.” Alex pointed at Max with the straw of his soda. “
Are
you hiding a relationship with Heather?”

Max put his sandwich down hard enough to tumble the bread off one side. “I do not
have a relationship with Heather Browning.”

Alex was fully engaged now, in that communication mode that made him an unstoppable
force. “Do you
want
a relationship with Heather Browning?”

Just because he needed to stall, Max said, “Is that really any of your business if
I do?”

“Not at all. But I’m going to ask anyway. She’s not really what I’d pick as your type.”

“I like her.” He felt safe admitting that—JJ had probably already guessed that much.
“Only the timing is way off.”

“Sort of.” Given the terrible timing of Alex and JJ’s meeting, the argument didn’t
hold much weight with Alex. “Maybe not, if she’s really special.”

“To tell you the truth, I’d be better if I liked her a little less, because I’m not
quite sure how to...do this whole thing...on wheels, that is. In case you haven’t
noticed, I come with a whole lot of extra baggage now.”

“Everybody’s got baggage. Yours is just easier to see.”

Alex’s words brought the image of Heather’s scarred leg to mind. She was still among
the walking wounded, only no one saw her pain or recognized her fear. “I can barely
cope with all the stuff involved in my condition. How am I supposed to ask someone
else to take it on?”

“What if she’s strong enough to take it on?” Alex sat back in his chair. “Look at
how she champions Simon Williams’s cause. I think if anyone could make it work, it’d
be someone like her.”

He couldn’t help but think of Sullivan’s words,
They only think they can.
“I don’t want to get far into this and find out it won’t work. I’d like to think
I’m done with breaking ladies’ hearts.” That was only half-true; a tiny newfound part
of him was worried it was
his
heart that would end up broken. He’d been dumped for being a jerk so many times it
had almost become a painless game. The thought of someone—especially someone like
Heather—breaking it off with him not because he was a jerk, but because of his broken
body? That was too harsh to risk. Sullivan was right about one thing: Heather would
try so hard to make it work that it would go all the way to the bitter end before
she’d admit she wasn’t up to the challenge.

“You know,” Alex suggested, emphasizing his point with a pickle spear, “you could
try something totally un-Max here.”

“What would that be?”

“Go slow.”

“Ha. Funny.”

“This may be exactly what you need. Have you ever thought about that? You can’t slam
through the gears on this one. You have to take it one little bit at a time. That’s
completely new territory for you. In a lot of ways.”

Max couldn’t decide if having Alex in favor of this relationship—and it wasn’t a relationship
yet—was a good thing or a bad thing. Alex was staring at him with narrow, assessing
eyes, as if he were some kind of puzzle to solve, some new project to tackle. The
scrutiny was a little unnerving.

“You really like her, don’t you?”

Max decided he couldn’t fight Alex, JJ, Brian Williams and gravity all at the same
time. “Yeah,” he admitted. “There’s something about her. She sticks with me even when
I don’t want her to, you know?”

Alex gave him a wily smile. “Yeah, I do know how that feels. When do you see her next?”

Max tried to keep the anticipation from his voice. “Tonight, but it’s school business.”

“That’s good. Go slow. But keep me posted.”

* * *

Well,
Heather thought as she pulled up to the address Max had given her,
at least I know why he said to bring gloves and a sweater.
The parking lot of the County Ice Arena was full for a Wednesday night in September,
but she had no trouble picking out a certain boxy black car in one of the handicapped
parking spaces.

“Are we watching hockey?” she asked Max as he met her at the door.

He dismissed her question with a wave, rolling into the building. “Nah. Girls don’t
like hockey.”

“I know many
women
who enjoy a good hockey game.” She couldn’t tell if he persisted with using
girl
because he forgot she didn’t like it or because he remembered her irritation.

“But you’re not one of them, are you?” His eyes held a bit of mischief.

“Actually, no. Which brings me back to my original question. What are we doing here?”

“That’s not your original question.” Max held up a correcting finger as he swerved
his chair around a corner past the skate rental booth. “Your original question was
are we watching hockey. No, we are not watching hockey. We are
playing
hockey.”

Heather stopped walking.

Max noticed and swiveled around. “Kiddie-sitting-down hockey, actually. Okay, well,
the technical name is sled hockey, but c’mon, a five-year-old could do this. You’ll
be fine. And then you can give Brian Williams a firsthand account of how Simon will
survive intact when he joins us next time.”

Heather didn’t see how hockey, a sport famous for erupting in tooth-shattering fistfights,
would pass the Brian Williams safety standards. Still, she followed Max around to
the far corner of the rink, where a section had been cordoned off with a pair of goals
and some devices that did indeed look like sleds. A pair of miniature hockey sticks—not
more than a foot high—sat in each of the sleds. “You’re serious.”

Max wheeled past a rink employee, giving the man a high five as he rolled by. “Thanks,
Henry.”

“Anytime, Max.” Henry looked up and gave Heather an enthusiastic but toothless smile.
“Hiya, sweetie.”

“Hello there.” Heather tried to make her wave casual, but it ended up feeling more
like a hyperactive flailing than any kind of greeting.

Henry put his hands on his hips. “You ain’t never done this before, have you? Look
at you—you’re a tiny thing, aren’t ya?” He chuckled. “This ought to be fun to watch.”

“Cut it out, Henry. This is professional. Ms. Browning is from the high school and
we’re looking at recreational options for a student.”

Heather’s eyebrows shot up at the formal choice of vocabulary. While his words were
professional, Max’s expression was decidedly personal.

“Uh-huh.” Henry’s skepticism was hard to miss. “That’s right.” He grinned again and
pointed at Heather. “You watch out for him, now. He’s a tricky one.”

“I’ve caught on to that,” Heather replied. “Exactly how does this work?”

Max zipped up the fleece jacket he wore—she hadn’t noticed until now that it bore
the emblem of Chicago’s NHL team, the Blackhawks—and pulled a pair of gloves from
the pockets. “Pretty much the way it looks. Only getting into the sled might be a
touch easier for you than it is for me.” With no more explanation than that, Max rolled
his chair out onto a ramped section of carpeting laid out next to the two sleds. With
the same athletic prowess she’d seen at their first meeting, he maneuvered himself
out of the chair and into the long, low sled, lifting his legs into place. “There
are usually special gloves and helmets, but we’re not going to get that complicated
today. I’ll show them to you, though, so you can report back to Mr. Williams on the
abundance of safety equipment. Come on—get in.” He motioned to the second sled as
he began strapping his legs in place.

Max was right; it was pretty obvious how the whole setup worked. Given what a terrible
skater she was in the standing position, this felt slightly less perilous—if one ignored
the Max element of any activity. She buckled the strap that went over her lap and
pulled on her gloves. “Like this?”

“You know—” Max grinned “—I never thought I’d use the word
cute
in a hockey setting. Watch the other end of the sticks. They’ve got little teeth
on them.”

“Why?”

“So you can do this.” With a trick worthy of a rock-and-roll drummer, he twirled the
sticks in the air and then sunk them into the ice so that the teeth gripped. Then
he pushed off and went sliding down the rink toward the goal at the other end.

Heather took a breath, set her sticks on either side of her and pushed. It wasn’t
as hard as she thought to send her sled across the ice, and she found it much more
fun to be daring without the constant fear of falling. They played politely at first,
gently skidding the soft, light puck back and forth. As her comfort and ability increased,
the game dissolved into a fun frenzy of yelling and cheering, egging each other on
to spectacular shots and daring defenses. Each goal scored—and she managed to score
her fair share—took the game to a new exuberance...until she tipped over after attempting
to cut off Max’s shot at the goal.

“Watch your hands,” Max said, a bit out of breath as he pulled up next to her, facing
the opposite direction. “Give me one arm and I’ll help you up.”

The rescue brought him precariously close, their shoulders touching as he gripped
her upper body to upright the sled. Once up, they were facing each other at very close
range. Heather looked up and got an unsettlingly close look at his eyes. They were
an intriguing hazel—not quite brown, but neither gray nor green, either. They fit
his personality—expressive, unclassifiable and a bit dark around the edges. She’d
always thought of him as physically strong, but today Heather
felt
that strength. He lifted her as if she were a feather.