Lou said, “Didn’t you hear me tell you to stop?”
“I did. I just hit the wrong pedal. I’ll do better this time, promise.” She went to the driver’s door, reached up and put her foot on the step.
Lou’s hands closed around her waist, picked her up off the step and set her back down on the driveway. She had to forcibly resist the urge to moan in pleasure, because she loved his hands on her. Anywhere, anytime. She really hadn’t tried hard enough with him, she thought. Flirting was flirting. But men could be awfully bad at picking up hints. Maybe she should have set him down and told him flat out. She visualized it in her mind. Her looking him in the eyes and saying, “Lou, I want you. I want you in my life and in my bed and in every other way that matters. What do you say?”
He probably wouldn’t say anything, she thought. He would probably go speechless with shock. No, she really hadn’t tried hard enough. And now it was pretty much too late—unless her hastily devised plan worked the way she intended.
She just blinked up at Lou, her eyes wide with innocence and questions.
He sighed, lowered his head. “You win, Maxie. I’ll drive.”
Ye-e-es!
“Don’t be silly, Lou. You don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah. I do.”
“But your fishing trip …”
“Will wait for another time.”
She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him. Lou put his hands on her waist after a moment, though instead of pulling her closer he seemed more interested in keeping her hips a safe distance from his. She didn’t resist, because she needed to take things slowly and carefully this time. This was a second chance—she couldn’t blow it.
Demurely, she said, “Thank you, Lou.”
“I’m not staying, Max.”
God, how did he manage to see right through her like that?
He took her arms from around his neck, held her wrists in his hands as if to keep some distance between them and looked her squarely in the eye. “I’ll drive the van up there, help you unload, and then I’m coming right back. Understood?”
“Well of course it is.” She nodded toward his car. “You can leave your car in the garage. I’ll drive you back whenever you’re ready. Better bring that weekend bag you have packed, though.”
He blinked at her as if she were speaking a foreign language. “Honey, I just told you, I’m not staying.”
“I know that. But hell, Lou, it’s an eight-hour drive. At the very least you’re gonna want a shower and a change of clothes before you head back.”
He watched her through narrow eyes. “I won’t need the bag,” he said. “I’m not staying.”
“All right, all right. Whatever you say.”
She walked up the driveway, hauling open the garage door. “Hey, if you’re driving, then we can use the tow bar and bring my car along, can’t we?” she called, as if she’d just had a brilliant idea.
He looked at her car. “There’s a tow bar?”
“Yeah, mounted underneath the van.”
He nodded, went back to the van, got in and moved it out of its precarious position, parking it safely along the shoulder of the road, on the opposite side of her driveway from where he’d parked his car. He left room behind the van for Maxie’s Bug. When he got out, he moved behind it to mess around with the tow bar.
Stormy came walking over to join Max in the garage. “He’s coming with us, isn’t he?” she asked.
Max smiled. “Well, he couldn’t very well let me drive, once he saw how likely I was to get killed on the way. Could he?”
“That was pretty risky, Max. Suppose Mr. Robbins had smashed into you?”
“He had plenty of room to stop. I’m not stupid.”
“No, no, you’re far from stupid,” Stormy said, shaking her head.
Max tossed her a set of keys. “Do me a favor and pull my car out of the garage and around behind the van, so Lou can hook it to the tow bar? “
“Sure.” Stormy got into Maxine’s car and pulled it carefully out of the garage, past her own and into the road. Then she pulled it along the shoulder, behind the van.
Max went out to where Lou’s car was parked and saw that the keys were still in the switch. She started it up and drove it into the now-empty spot in the garage. When she got out, she glanced into the back seat. There was a big satchel there, stuffed to bursting, along with a cooler of beer and plenty of fishing gear. She glanced outside.
Stormy and Lou were busy behind the van, hitching up Max’s car.
Licking her lips, Maxine reached into the back seat and snatched the satchel. She took it into the driveway and tucked it into Stormy’s car. “Quick and sly as a fox on a caffeine high,” she muttered. Then she went back to the garage to close it up. By the time she finished, Lou had her car ready to go. She waltzed out to the van and handed him his keys.
“Your Buick is in my garage, Lou. It’ll be safe and sound there until you get back.”
He looked at her suspiciously.
Stormy tapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t lose me. I’ll be right behind you guys, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Keep the cell phones turned on.”
“Will do,” Maxie said, wondering why Stormy seemed nervous about the trip. “Honey, are you worried about something?”
Stormy denied it a little too quickly. “I have the directions and everything, I’m just worried I’ll get lost. So don’t drive too fast.” She hurried to her car and started the engine. As far as Max could tell, she didn’t even notice the extra bag behind the passenger seat. Not that she would say anything if she did. Storm was on her side in this.
In everything. She was Max’s best friend—which was why Max knew her well enough to be worried about the drive. Storm was not herself, and hadn’t been, not since the coma.
Max reached for Lou, deciding to take advantage of another opportunity for physical contact. “Help me into this thing?” she asked, standing next to the passenger door.
He pursed his lips, but she didn’t care, because he put his hands on her again to do as she asked.
“I’m not staying, Maxie,” he said, one hand on the small of her back, the other bracing her forearm as she climbed into the truck.
“Quit saying that, Lou. I got it already.”
Lou walked around to the driver’s side and climbed in. Maxie fastened her seat belt, settled in for the long ride, and told herself she had the next eight hours to figure out how she was going to convince Lou to stay with her in Maine.
Failure was not an option she even bothered to consider.
2
Stormy drove along behind the yellow van and told herself everything was going to be fine. She visualized a bright future, she and Max with their own private investigations agency: SIS. Supernatural Investigations Services—because that would be their specialty. Max had assured her, though, that they wouldn’t turn down ordinary types of cases. The acronym “sis” was, Max said, as much in honor of her own newfound twin sister, Morgan, as it was in honor of her relationship with Stormy. The two were far more than best friends—always had been.
God,