“Um… yes,” I replied.

His eyes dropped to my shirt and I caught them darkening before he turned his head away and went up the stairs.

“Nina, sweetie, this house, that view, that man. My God!” Mom cried.

“Nellie, darlin’, this place is open plan. Max can hear you,” Steve informed her.

“So? We’re all family now. He’ll have to get used to me,” Mom decreed madly and marched toward the kitchen. “I’ll make coffee, rustle up breakfast. Neenee Bean, you go wash your face and moisturize.”

I was still swaying from the force of Mom’s “we’re all family now” statement so my protesting words were weak. “Mom, I’ll get coffee and maybe we should meet in town for breakfast or something and you can tell me then what you’re doing here.”

“Oh, tosh!” Mom was in the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards. “That’ll take too long, we’ll have breakfast here,” she declared then went on. “I’ll make pancakes. No! My famous scrambled eggs. Max strikes me as an egg man.”

I decided speaking was giving my mother fodder to embarrass me further so I grinned at Steve, ducked under his arm and rushed to the stairs, saying, “I’ll be back down in a second.”

I hit the loft as Max came out of the bathroom wearing a dark blue Henley thermal and jeans and I stopped dead.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered loudly.

Max got close and tilted his head down to me. “Yeah? Why?”

“My mother’s… she’s… well, my mother.” I was still whispering.

“Heard the knock, honey, expected to see your Dad at the door. Damn better sight seein’ your Mom smilin’ and wavin’ and jumpin’ up and down.”

I closed my eyes as the vision of Mom doing that, and she would do it, filled my head.

I felt Max’s hands on my neck and he called, “Duchess.”

I opened my eyes and repeated, “Sorry.”

He used my neck to pull me closer. “Only thing you got to be sorry for is passin’ out on me last night. Though, baby,” I watched up close as his eyes got warm, “you passin’ out naked but leavin’ on those fuckin’ sexy shoes and now wearin’ my shirt makes up for it.”

“What?” I was lost in his eyes. I couldn’t process words especially since his words were mostly scary.

“Not all of it, but it helps.”

“What?” I repeated, still coping with the shocks of my morning and, of course, Max’s warm eyes.

He got even closer and whispered, “Gonna fuck you in that shirt too.”

I processed that.

“And those shoes,” he went on as if deep in his thoughts, “though, not at the same time.”

My knees buckled and my hands shot up to grab Max’s waist in order to stay standing. I found if I hooked my thumbs in his belt loops at the sides this worked really well and I realized why he’d used that on me though, obviously, his was different.

“You got any sisters?” Max asked for some reason and I shook my head. “Brothers other than Charlie?” he went on and I kept shaking my head. “Cousins?”

“Some of those,” I whispered.

He grinned. “So is that who we can expect tomorrow?”

My cousins were as nutty as my mother and if she made calls to my aunts, who were also loons, this could be a possibility. Therefore instead of answering, I fell forward and pressed my face into his Henley.

“See I got mostly Nina Zombie,” Max said, his lips at my hair. “Get yourself sorted out, darlin’. I’ll go down and see that your mother doesn’t move into the barn.”

My head shot back and I whispered, “Oh God, Max, don’t tell her you have a barn. Seriously, she’ll consider it. She’ll have contractors here tomorrow to talk about a conversion.”

He was still grinning when he kissed me, pulled away and stated, “My lips are sealed.”

Then he let me go and walked to the stairs.

I ran to the bathroom and rushed through my morning ritual and didn’t bother dressing because I didn’t want to leave Max alone with my mother that long. And anyway, Max’s shirt provided far more coverage than my nightie or even one of his t-shirts and it was Mom and Steve. Mom and Steve lived in Arizona now so Steve had been seeing me in pajamas and bathing suits ever since he was promoted to “companion” status.

I ran down the stairs, rolling the sleeves up and heard Mom banging away and talking at the same time.

“…then she got in a debate, with the quizmaster, on television and took him to task for his superior, sexist attitude.”

Oh my God. Mom was sharing the Dreaded High School Brain Team Story.

“Mom,” I cut in.

“Quiet, sweetie, I’m telling Max the Brain Team Story.”

I hit the kitchen seeing Max was at his usual place against the sink, Steve was at a stool and Mom was at the counter surrounded by what looked like everything in Max’s cupboards.

I had no time to ask about Mom’s apparent surprise kitchen inventory, I had to stop the Brain Team Story.

“I know, Mom, and I wish you wouldn’t.”

She stopped and looked at me with raised brows. “I’ll never know why you’re embarrassed by that story.”

“How many reasons do you want?” I asked.

“Three!” Mom shot back.

I lifted my hand and counted them down. “One, I did it on local television and everyone saw. Two, I was kicked off the Brain Team and suspended from school. And three, I was on the Brain Team at all.”

“Men like smart girls,” she retorted.

“Yes, that’s what you told me when I didn’t have a date to the senior prom.”

She leaned forward and returned, “You didn’t have a date to the senior prom because that silly Flannery boy broke up with you for that terrible Sipowicz girl.” Mom turned to Max and added, “She had too much hair, always flouncing it around, and she was loose.”

Mom spoke the truth. Perry Sipowicz had a lot of hair she was always flouncing around and she definitely was loose.

“Anyway,” Mom turned back to the counter and started moving stuff around what appeared to be randomly, “I was proud of my Neenee Bean for sticking up to that awful television person. He thought he was God’s gift and everyone could see he was wearing a hairpiece. And he was being sexist. He wouldn’t let Nina answer any of the questions and she was the only girl on either school’s team. So I was glad she told him off.” She turned back to Max and finished, “It was then I knew she’d make a brilliant attorney. She got into every school she applied to.”

“Mom,” I said, moving toward the coffeepot, “enough.”

“You did,” Mom muttered, looked at Max and repeated, “She did.”

I looked at Max and rolled my eyes. Max smiled.

I asked the room, “Who wants coffee?”

“Me!” Mom cried as if I wasn’t standing right next to her which I was.

I looked over my shoulder at Steve, pulling down mugs from the cupboard. “Steve?”

“A cup would hit the spot, Nina.”

I looked at Max as I went to the fridge for milk. “Max?”

“Yeah, baby.”

Mom leaned into me when I made it back to the counter by her side and she whispered loudly even though if she whispered softly Max could still hear her as he was maybe two feet away. “I like that, the ‘baby’ thing. He’s yummy.”

“Stop calling Max yummy in front of Steve.”

“Oh, Steve doesn’t mind,” Mom dismissed with a wave of her hand.

“Okay, then stop calling Max yummy in front of Max.”

Mom leaned back to look behind me at Max and informed him, “Nina can be a bit uptight.”

Max burst out laughing.

I cried, “Mother!”

Mom turned wide eyes to me. “You can!”

I looked to the ceiling and called, “God? Can I have a time machine? Please. I just want to go back thirty-five years, crawl out of my pram, get lost in the wilds and be raised by stray dogs.”

Mom leaned back and said to Max, “She can also be dramatic.” She turned back to whatever she was doing at the counter and murmured, “Though, it’s good, she’s always had an excellent imagination.”

I handed Max his mug and took Steve’s coffee to him, saying, “Mom, Max likes me, okay? You don’t have to convince him seeing as I’m standing in his kitchen in his shirt.”

“All right,” Mom snapped and looked back at Max. “She can get testy too.”

I closed my eyes and dropped my head back. I stood there in supplication for half a second before an arm hooked at my waist and my back was up against Max’s front.

“Grab your coffee, Duchess and let your Mom be,” Max ordered in my ear.

I leaned forward and grabbed my coffee, muttering, “Whatever.” Then I looked at Mom and found I couldn’t let her be so I asked, “What are you doing, anyway?”

“I’m in the mood to concoct something,” Mom answered and my entire body got tense.

“Mom –” I started and Steve was with me for he said in a low, warning tone, “Nellie, not sure that’s a good idea.”

“My concoctions are the best,” Mom declared in Steve’s direction.

“Your concoctions are hit and miss. Mostly miss,” I told her.

Mom whirled on me, aghast. “You loved my blueberry, rhubarb soufflé.”

“Mom, I lied. It tasted a lot like vomit.”

Max’s body started shaking against mine but I was forced to ignore it when Mom emitted an outraged gasp.

“It did not taste like vomit!”

“Please, just let me make toast.”

Mom, if it could be believed, was even more aghast and she cried, “What will Max think, he gets toast?”

“It’s his house, Mom, you’re the guest,” I reminded her.

“I’m the Mom in any circumstances and children don’t get toast. Ever.”