Revved to the Maxx

by Melanie Moreland

  Checking my new space, I decided, as far as rooms went, it was fine. I unpacked my clothes, used the few hooks in the wall to hang my skirts, and slid my suitcase under the bed. I texted Kelly to let her know I was okay, knowing if she didn’t hear from me, she’d get worried, then I took a shower, grimacing when I was done as I realized there were no towels. I used the shirt I’d worn that day and made a mental note to find some in the morning. The sheets were scratchy and old, but they would do until I discovered where all the linens were in the house.

  I sat in the bed, surveying the room. With a small reconfiguration, it would work better. I would do that later today, but I wanted to get a start on the office in the garage. I got dressed, wearing a pair of jeans and a long shirt, unsure what to expect today but knowing I had a lot of work ahead of me. I bundled my hair into a bun to keep it out of my eyes, found my glasses, and headed to the office.

  I stood in the chaos, unsure where to start. Files were everywhere. Piles of paper. Parts, notes, discarded coffee cups. I wasn’t even certain there was a desk under the mounds of stuff. I blew out a long breath and decided to simply start.

  Half an hour later, I had scrubbed the coffeemaker, had a pot brewing, and tidied up the little kitchen area. The only things in the old refrigerator were some bottles of water, beer, and creamers for coffee. I was grateful to find they were still usable. I checked the storeroom and discovered a few new banker boxes which I carried to the office. I peeked in the ones on the shelf, noticing how tidy the paperwork inside was. Everything seemed to be in order up until the last year or so, and then it stopped. It was all there, but not in any order. I pursed my lips as I wondered what had occurred then that caused the sudden shift.

  Back in the office, a cup of coffee in hand, I sat in front of the desk and decided swift action was best. I unfolded three boxes, and carefully piled everything off the desk and into the boxes, sorting as I went. As I went through the files, I noticed there was a system of sorts. One file contained a multitude of pieces of paper with jobs done, prices scribbled, and names. On the front of the file, written in a bold script, was the word INVOICE. I lifted my eyebrows in shock at the vast amount of money outstanding to Maxx. That would be my number one priority. “Yowsers,” I muttered, keeping that file on the desk.

  It took me an hour to clear away the top of the desk, adding more papers to the invoice pile, finding unopened mail, bills to be paid, and a lot of junk. Once the desk was clear, I cleaned it, organized the top, and sat back, sipping my third cup of coffee. I glanced at the clock, noting it was almost seven thirty, and wondered if Maxx would want breakfast. We hadn’t discussed that last night—the fact was that we hadn’t talked at all. I pulled a piece of paper toward me and made yet another list.

  The sound of the side door opening and the alarm switching off made my shoulders stiffen. I shook my head, preparing myself to face Maxx. Would he be friendlier today? I was determined to start the day off right and show him what I was capable of. I fixed a smile to my face and waited for him to walk in.

  I wasn’t prepared for him, though. Freshly showered, his hair still damp, and smelling so good I wanted to lick him, he strode in. His T-shirt was stretched tight across his muscular chest, his biceps bulging in the short sleeves. The jeans he wore hugged his thighs, and I could only imagine how good they looked from the back. I had to swallow to clear my dry throat and force a neutral expression on my face.

  “Morning, boss.”

  He stopped in the doorway, clutching the frame. For a moment, he stared, his eyes narrowed, his frown deepening, then without a word, he spun on his heel and went back the way he came, leaving me staring at the door.

  Holy moly, he was rude. He could at least say good morning. I scrubbed my face in vexation, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing me upset. I returned to the task at hand, not bothering to look up when he walked back in ten minutes later.

  “Charly.”

  I cursed the way he made my name sound like a caress without even trying. It rolled off his tongue like an endearment, even though I was certain he wasn’t trying to do so.

  I glanced up, attempting to appear casual.

  “Oh, you can speak.”

  He had the grace to look abashed. “Sorry. I realized I forgot my cell in the house.”

  I rolled my eyes, not believing him for a moment.

  “You don’t have to work Sundays.”

  “I’d rather get a head start.”

  “What have you done to the office?”

  “I’m organizing it.” I lifted a file as proof.

  “It was organized,” he huffed. “I knew where everything was.”

  “Gosh dang it,” I muttered. “Already, Maxx? You’re going to chap my ass already? You said you needed help. I am trying to help.”

  “There were parts there I need. How will I find them?”

  “I took every part and placed it on the workbench. Every screw, every wire, every little mechanical piece that you left on the desk is out there.” I indicated the boxes. “All the paperwork is in these boxes. I will go through each box and organize it. Then I will invoice all these jobs and get some capital flowing in.” I waved my hand at the old computer sitting on the desk. “That needs updating.”

  “It works,” he protested, crossing his arms.

  “It’s ancient. Does it still run on Windows98?”

  “I have no idea,” he admitted. “I’m not one for technology of that sort.”

  “I do and I am. A nice laptop would work well. And a new printer. You want a decent website, I need the tools to do so.” I pushed a piece of hair over my ear. “I’ll use mine until we get one. Until then, I need the password for this one.”

  “Cycle.”

  “Original.”

  “Stop busting my chops.”

  “Stop being a dick.”

  We were locked in a battle of glares. I gave in and shook my head. “Coffee is made. Do you want breakfast?”

  “No.”

  “Fine. I’m going to work in here this morning unless you want something else done?”

  “No.”

  He was obviously going to be difficult no matter what I said or did.

  “I assume tomorrow you have appointments? Do I answer the phone? How do you want them booked?”

  He blinked, for the first time looking unsure. “However they come.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. “Why don’t you look after this, and I’ll look after the front. I sort of have my own system.”

  I looked around the office. “I’ll say. Holy moly, what a mess.”

  I swore his lips quirked. Then he schooled his features. “Do your job, Charly.”

  “Trying.”

  He turned, and I called out, “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “No breakfast, but I assume you want lunch and dinner?”

  “Yes. I have a job I’m working on. So just a sandwich at some point. Dinner…” His voice trailed off, and a real, honest smile lit his face. “Whatever that was you made last night, I approve.”

  “You liked it?” I asked, suddenly feeling shy.

  “I polished it off. All of it.”

  “Oh. Okay. I’m glad you liked it.”

  “I did.”

  For a moment, something warm and real passed between us. I caught a glimpse of the man from Friday night, and it made my heart jump in my chest.

  “Thank you for the lock.”

  He lifted a shoulder, then paused, as if wanting to say something.

  “Yes?” I asked

  “Nothing. I have work to do. Since I’m paying you, I suggest you get back to yours.”

  I sniffed. “Been at it since six, so you know. And as you pointed out, it is my day off.”

  “Nice to see some initiative,” he shot back, heading to the coffeemaker. “Stop brownnosing the boss.” He poured a cup of coffee and took a long sip. “Just because you’re working today, don’t be late tomorrow. I will drag you out of bed and kick your
ass to get you to work.”

  “I’d like to kick your ass,” I muttered.

  He appeared by my elbow. “What was that?”

  “I said I have gas,” I deadpanned. “You might want to leave the room.”

  He blinked, stepped back, then walked away.

  But I heard him laughing, and I hugged myself. Another small victory.

  Midafternoon, I stood and stretched. The desk was now organized and tidy. Tomorrow, I planned on tackling the huge pile of outstanding payments. That would take me a while, but it needed to be done.

  I walked through the garage, Maxx busy under the hood of a car. I couldn’t help staring at his ass as I walked. Bent over, his jeans pulled tight, it was spectacular. Sculpted, round, and I recalled, firm. Not looking where I was going, I tripped over a piece of equipment, ending up on the hard cement floor, muttering in pain and exasperation.

  “Holy moly, crap on a cracker…” I cursed, holding my hand.

  Maxx pulled himself up, hurrying over. “What happened?” Concern colored his voice. “Are you hurt?”

  Up close, under the bright lights, his dark eyes had flecks of gold and green, and they were mesmerizing, rendering me unable to speak.

  He grabbed my shoulders, shaking me a little. “Charly!”

  I blinked and flushed, realizing how silly I must look. “I’m fine.”

  He tugged on my hand. “Let me see.”

  I uncurled my fist, and he cursed. The skin was torn and bleeding, having taken the brunt of my weight as I fell. He stood, taking me with him. I yelped in shock, pushing on his shoulder.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I need to bandage your hand.”

  “I can walk.”

  “Apparently not well. How the hell did you trip over a creeper? It was right there!”

  My cheeks became hotter. “Um, I was distracted.” I wiggled a little. “Let me down.”

  “No.”

  He headed down the hall and into the small bathroom off the office. He held my hand under the water, ignoring my gasp of pain as the water hit the torn flesh.

  “We need to make sure it’s clean.”

  He opened the small cupboard and took out a first aid box.

  “I can do that.”

  He shook his head, looking around. “Where’s a towel?”

  “I don’t think there is one. You didn’t give me one either. Good thing I had my own soap. Otherwise, the shower would have been a total wash.” I waggled my eyebrows, trying to get him to lighten up. He looked far too serious.

  He ignored my humor. “I forgot. Sorry.”

  Before I could recover from his apology, he whipped his shirt over his head, standing in front of me bare-chested. He wrapped my hand in the shirt, still warm from his body, then rummaged in the first aid box. I tried not to gape. I had seen him naked in the motel room, but the lights were low. That view hadn’t done him justice. He was sculpted and firm, his muscles rippling as he moved. He had a six-pack, maybe even an eight-pack. I couldn’t count, my head was so muddled. He crouched in front of me, saying something, and I blinked.

  “What?”

  “I said, this is going to sting.” Then he dabbed at the torn skin with alcohol, and I yelped.

  He blew on my hand, and my breath caught. It was highly erotic watching his mouth work to cool my skin. His closeness was having the opposite effect on the rest of me. My body felt heavy and warm. The desire to drape my arms over his shoulders and have him lift and carry me to the small bed down the hall was prevalent. He bent his head as he added some ointment, then covered the skin with a large bandage.

  “We’ll check it tomorrow,” he said, looking up and freezing.

  Our eyes locked in a heated, silent exchange. His hands tightened on mine, gripping them with an intensity that was thrilling. His pupils dilated, his breathing picking up to match mine. Memories of the night we shared came alive, swirling around us. I licked my lips, and his gaze flicked to my mouth, then back to my eyes.

  We drifted closer, like magnets unable to stop the pull. His mouth was almost touching mine, and I whispered his name.

  “Maxx.”

  He released my hands and stood so fast, I almost toppled over. He stepped back, his eyes wild.

  “I have to go and do some errands. Try to be more careful in the garage, Charly.”

  Then he turned and almost ran, as if the hounds of hell were pursuing him.

  I drew in a shuddering breath, hearing the sound of the garage door closing and his truck starting.

  I dropped my head into my hands, wincing at the pain.

  What just happened?

  Chapter 10

  MAXX

  I pulled out of the driveway so fast, my tires kicked up a cloud of dust and pebbles, shooting them all over the road.

  I didn’t care. I had to get out. Get away from her.

  A short distance away, I steered to the side of the road and hung my head.

  Twice.

  That was twice in one day I couldn’t stop my reaction to her.

  When I walked in the office this morning, the sight of her sitting at my desk, her legs folded under her as she worked, caught me off guard. I thought I was prepared to see her. I wasn’t.

  Her hair was piled high with tendrils escaping in little corkscrew curls around her face. Her shirt hung off her shoulder, exposing the creamy flesh I remembered kissing. Tasting. And the kicker? The sexy, come-fuck-me librarian glasses perched on her nose. My cock hardened instantly.

  I wanted to drag her off the chair, pull those glasses off her face, and take her. Right there on the desk. I had to turn around and leave before I did. Give myself a chance to collect my thoughts and brace myself to go back and pretend nothing was amiss. Treat her the way I had the day before—with barely concealed annoyance.

  Except, I was finding it hard to do so for some reason. She had been working hard, for how long, I wasn’t sure. But she was obviously determined to make the best of the job I hired her for. I hassled her a little, but this morning, my barbs were off and my comebacks weak.

  Then when she fell, the sense of needing to look after her shocked me. Cleaning her hand, being that close to her was a mistake. The heat between us was undeniable. The urge to kiss her, yank her to my chest, and lose myself to her was intense. To carry her over to the little bed in the back and spend the rest of the day inside her, palpable and strong.

  I had to physically remove myself. I hadn’t even put a shirt on. I grabbed a spare one from the back seat and yanked it over my head, then banged my hand on the steering wheel in frustration.

  How the hell was this going to work?

  I hung my head again in resignation. I was being a fool. It wasn’t going to work. One of us was going to break, and when we did, the entire fragile bomb we were dancing around was going to explode.

  Somehow, something told me it would make the last explosion that rocked my world look like nothing.

  A truck came up behind me, stopping. The passenger side window rolled down, and Mary tilted her head, studying me.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  I sighed. There was no point lying. She’d figure it out. “Hiding.”

  “From?”

  “My new assistant.”

  I had sent Mary a message, telling her I had hired someone. She’d been away, so it was the first time I had seen her since she convinced me to place the ad. She had given me an earful about the contents of my ad, much the same way Red had, and was shocked anyone had replied.

  “The kid just got here. More trouble than he’s worth already?” She chuckled. “Give him a chance.”

  I met her gaze. “He’s not a kid, and he’s not a he.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “This I gotta hear. Follow me home, Maxx.” Her tone left no room for argument.

  I sighed and put the truck in gear.

  Mary puttered around her homey kitchen, making coffee, relaxed and at ease. I sat stewing—and fidgeting.

  �
��Should I put a splash of brandy in that coffee? Calm you down some?”

  “I’m fine,” I growled.

  “Brandy, it is.”

  A mug thumped down in front of me. Mary sat down across the table. “Now, spill.”

  “The kid isn’t really a kid.”

  “How old is, ah, your new assistant?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “Twenty-five isn’t usually considered a child, Maxx,” she stated mildly.

  I sipped the coffee. “Everyone seems like a kid to me these days.”

  She laughed. “Wait until you get to be my age. Keep going.”

  “So, Charly is short for Charlynn. He is a she.”

  “Oh. So, your Girl Friday turned out to be exactly that. A girl. You never checked?”

  “Her resume said C.L. Hooper. Her username was Charly. I never even thought.”

  “A natural assumption, I suppose,” Mary murmured, her tone telling me she thought I was full of bullshit.

  “When I found out, I almost left her at the bus stop. But she begged me for a trial.”

  “I assume she needs the job.”

  “Yeah.” I ran a hand through my hair. “Anyway, she’s a pain in the ass.”

  “Oh, pot meet kettle sort of thing?”

  I glared at her. “She’s a redheaded, back-talking little snippet. She keeps forgetting I’m the boss.”

  Mary’s lips quirked. “I see. And she’s doing a lousy job in the twenty-four hours she’s been here?”

  I leaned back in the chair, looking at the ceiling. “No. Hell, she did the grocery shopping, organized the kitchen, and I found her neck-deep in paperwork this morning.”

  “Wow. What a slacker. You should fire her.”

  I chuckled at her dry comment.

  “So, you’re angry that she’s a woman?”

  I scrubbed my face. “Not really. I had thought I would be hiring one, so him being a her isn’t a bad thing.”