Page 77 of Smooth Sailing
Emmaline appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath. “I’m sorry,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “He heard voices and insisted on saying hello.”
Her gaze swept the room, landing on Max. A flicker of recognition passed over her features, followed quickly by a carefully composed smile. It was clear she remembered him from high school and equally clear, she hadn’t expected to see him here. And why did she almost look guilty?
Paloma turned to Max, with the toddler settled comfortably on her hip. “This is my nephew, Maxwell, and you know my sister, Emmaline.”
Max smiled, offering his hand to the little boy. “Nice to meet you, buddy. I’m Max too.”
Still clinging to Paloma, the little boy turned to look at Max. His dark brown eyes, wide with curiosity, traveled over Max’s face, taking in every detail. “But, I’m Max,” he said.
“That's right. You’re both Max!” Paloma laughed, bouncing the toddler gently. “Isn’t that fun?”
“Little Maxwell's brow furrowed as he processed this new information, his small fingers playing with the collar of Paloma’s shirt. Then his face brightened. “Two Max!” he declared triumphantly, holding up two fingers.
“Smart kid,” Max said, grinning. He was still holding out his hand, and this time the toddler reached for it, tiny fingers wrapping around two of Max’s larger ones in an adorable approximation of a handshake.
Paloma’s mom clapped her hands together, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Well,why don’t we move this to the dining room? The pizza smells delicious, and the roast is now overcooked and slightly eaten.” She glanced at Emmaline, whose cheeks pinkened.
“Sorry. I was hungry and have to leave in half an hour. I’d made plans to meet up with an old friend after Max’s bedtime.”
“Oh, who?” asked Paloma.
Emmaline pulled in her bottom lip, then let it out. “Kim.”
Paloma smiled as if that were the best news ever. The corner of Felix’s mouth twitched, and he looked away, saying, “That’s great! Have fun.”
“Well, you can visit with your brother and sister before you leave,” their mom motioned to a large dining room with a formal Cherrywood table.
“I’ll meet you there,” Emmaline reached for her son, who was dozing on Paloma’s shoulder. His eyelids fluttered, fighting a losing battle against sleep. “I’ll put him down and join you in a minute.”
She disappeared down the hallway with the sleeping toddler, and the rest of the family went to the dining room. Max leaned into Paloma and asked, “What’s with Kim?”
“Old code,” she whispered, her breath warm against his ear. “It means she’s up to something our parents wouldn’t approve of.” He returned her conspiratorial smile, feeling momentarily like he was part of the secret.
He chuckled, recalling his teenage antics with his brother. “That takes me back. Drake and I had our codes too. We thought we were so slick.” His voice lowered, curiosity piqued. “Any idea who the mystery person might be? Or is that strictly need-to-know basis among siblings?”
Stepping inside the dining room, she said, “Not sure. But I’ll find out.”
Felix leaned between them. “And you’ll let me know?”
“Please, you’re the nosiest one out of all of us. You’ll get it out of her well before me.”
“No lie there,” Abigale said before kissing Felix on the cheek.
He grinned and pulled out a chair for her. “You know me, love.”
Clifton took the seat at the head of the table. Sophia went to the kitchen and returned with a roast that, in Max’s opinion, looked great for warming in the oven well past its time.
“Max, sit here,” Paloma said, patting the chair beside her.
He sat, his hand resting on the table, inches from hers. His fingers twitched to take hers, but the space could have been miles for all that was between them.
Until her pinky grazed his knuckle. The touch was featherlight but electric, sending a current up his arm. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, catching the hint of a smile playing at her mouth.
He turned his hand ever so slightly, palm up, an invitation. Her fingertips traced the lines of his palm, the gesture hidden from view by the table’s edge. The rest of the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the whisper of her touch against his skin.
“So, Max, indoor gardens,” Clifton said, setting down his napkin. “That’s an interesting evolution from commercial landscaping. What drew you away from traditional exterior work?”
