Max rolled his eyes. “That’s the peanut butter talking, but yeah, we could do with a grocery run. It can wait, though. There’s no point now until after Christmas.”
Jed ignored the barb. “Whatever. Just no fucking Walmart, okay?”
“Okay, okay.” Max held up his hands in surrender. Jed’s discomfort in the supersized store hadn’t gone unnoticed. He was a cool dude—smooth and inscrutable—but he’d been unnerved in the superstore, like he’d never seen anything like it. Perhaps he hadn’t. A few days back, he’d told Max that before he was injured, he hadn’t set foot on American soil in years. Did they have Walmarts in the Middle East? Max honestly had no idea. “What are you doing? Is this your translating stuff?”
“Yeah.” Jed put his half-finished plate to one side. “It’s pretty dull, and I’m a little rusty with Sudanese dialects, but it’ll keep me out of trouble for a while.”
Max nodded. Jed had explained the many variants of Arabic spoken around the world before. Most of it went over Max’s head, but he remembered that the Congolese French Makemba spoke had been heavily influenced by local, tribal languages. Fascinated, he pointed to one of the books open on the coffee table. “Can you actually read that?”
“Most of it. It’s an Arabic textbook on childbirth.”
“What?”
Amused, Jed pulled the book closer. “I’m translating a prenatal care document. Did you know only 10 percent of Sudanese women have access to medical facilities when they’re pregnant?”
“Um, no?”
“Well, it’s true.” Jed pointed to a small pile of American healthcare leaflets. “So the aid agencies have to educate local people like this.”
Max felt his eyebrow rise as the subtle fervency lacing Jed’s words struck home. “You really care about this, huh?”
Jed’s grunt was noncommittal, but Max caught the faint spark in his eyes. He let it drop, reaching for Jed’s half-full tea mug and unfinished plate. “Are you done?”
“Hmm?”
“Your dinner.” Max rolled his eyes.So much for his ninja senses…“Are you finished?”
Distracted, Jed shook his head. “I’ll have some more in a bit.”
Max took that as his dismissal and retreated to the kitchen to clean up.
Later, he ventured back into the living room and flipped the TV on. Jed didn’t even look up, but he did adjust his position on the floor to lean against the couch while Max stretched out behind him. Combined with the heat of the fire, the warmth of Jed’s body was nice,toonice. When the urge to lean forward and press his lips to the back of Jed’s neck became too much, he gave up and went to bed.
Chapter Thirteen
CHRISTMASDAYdawned cold and crisp. Jed watched the sunrise down by the water, with Flo by his side. It was the first time Max had entrusted her into his care overnight, though part of him suspected it was the other way around. She hadn’t left him since Max had departed for the Cooper house the night before. Even a tentative three-mile run around the lake hadn’t put her off.
Jed sat back on the frosted wooden jetty and tilted his face to the sky. His body was sore from his first cautious solo run outside, and he needed to get inside and warm before he seized up, but for a moment, he allowed himself to indulge in the exercise-induced endorphins. He’d missed them. It had been far too long.
His mind wandered to Max. Jed let it happen willingly. Though he found comfort in his newfound solitude, the cabin was lonely without Max—without his incessant fidgeting, clutter and awful punk music. Jed hated the Clash—a British SAS crew he’d once shared a hangar with had playedLondon Callingall day every day for a month—but he got a kick out of watching Max dance around his workshop. It seemed to fit with his soft London accent, the accent that sent shivers down Jed’s spine. In moments like those, it was all too easy to forget the instinct he had that something wasn’t right.
Jed shivered now at the thought of it. He’d put the mysterious passport to the back of his mind, and he was determined for it to stay there. His gut, albeit faulty, told him Max was good to the bone, and that was enough for him. It had to be. There could be nothing else.
Beside him, Flo cocked her head to one side and whined. She’d had enough and wanted to go inside. Jed did as he was told and drifted back to the cabin.
His cell phone rang as he was dressing after his shower. He picked it up, surprised to see Max’s name flash on the screen. Max had never called him before. “Hello?”
“Merry Christmas. Haven’t starved to death without me, have you?”
“Very funny,” Jed said dryly. Max had left the fridge stocked with enough food for a week, rather than the twelve hours he’d left Jed alone for. He seemed to have forgotten Jed was perfectly capable of cooking for himself. “Me and Flo had a pasta party last night, if you must know.”
“A party, eh? I should leave you unsupervised more often, bring out your wild side.” There was a beat of silence, an inscrutable pause that stretched a touch too long and reminded Jed of the sadness in Max’s eyes when he’d told him he couldn’t sleep over at the Cooper house on Christmas Eve without killing his brother.
“No killing at Christmas, Jed,” Max had said. “Stay home with Flo. I’ll tell the kids you’re helping Santa.”
“Uh, anyway,” Max went on. “I need you to do me a favor. In my room, I left Tess’s presents in the box under the bed. Can you bring them for me?”
Jed agreed, but Max’s thanks were drowned out by the squeals of two excited children who were bound to have been awake almost as early as Jed and Flo. Jed bade him good-bye, dropped his phone on the bed, and ventured into Max’s room to search out the forgotten gifts.