Revved to the Maxx

by Melanie Moreland

  “What?”

  “I thought you might go into Lomand and have, like, a girls’ night or something.”

  I rolled my eyes. “With what girls, Maxx?” I shook my head. “Not much into the bar scene.” I met his gaze. “Last week was unusual for me.”

  He stroked his chin, not saying anything.

  “Besides, I’ve seen enough of the locals this morning. I don’t want to risk running into them again.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Wes Donner saw me in the store.”

  Maxx’s gaze turned frosty, his shoulders stiffening. I felt my breathing pick up at the angry look on his face. “What did he do?” he spat.

  I repeated our brief conversation, and Maxx’s lips quirked. “He wouldn’t like that.”

  “No, he didn’t.” I lifted my chin. “I’m not letting him bother me.”

  “Good girl.”

  “Is he always an ass?”

  Maxx lifted a shoulder. “He’s rich, spoiled, and likes to get his way. His dad owns a bunch of stuff in town, so he tends to get away with shit. He and his brother, Chase. They aren’t dangerous, but annoying. Entitled. Spoiled kids masquerading as adults. They think they can get away with anything.” He barked out a laugh. “They did when they were younger but not as much anymore. Still, avoid them if you can.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  His amusement was real this time. “I know you can.”

  He turned and walked away with a wave. “Enjoy your time off, Charly.”

  I felt a strange sadness as he disappeared. I was looking forward to spending time with Mary, but a small part of me had hoped Maxx would ask me to stay and spend my time with him.

  Silly, but true.

  Chapter 14

  CHARLY

  I loaded the wide basket on the bike with the fruit and my knapsack and rode to Mary’s, enjoying the scenic route. I was grateful when I got there, my legs unused to the workout. She had lemonade waiting, and we sat on the porch, relaxing.

  “How are things with you and Maxx?”

  I pursed my lips. “Tense most of the time.” I met her gaze. “And strictly employee and employer.”

  She nodded in understanding.

  “May I ask a question?”

  “You can ask it. Can’t guarantee I’ll answer.”

  That was fair. I knew she protected Maxx.

  “Does an Indian motorcycle figure into the equation of the Tramp and the bad friend?” I asked.

  Her expression became dark. “Very much so, but—”

  I interrupted her. “I know, it’s Maxx’s story to tell.”

  “Why would you ask?”

  I told her about the emblem. Maxx’s reaction to it. The way he’d shouted. I did leave off the part that we were naked when it happened, but I was honest and said Maxx informed me we would never be anything but coworkers.

  She took a sip of her lemonade, her voice pained when she spoke. “They really did a number on him, Charly. Have patience.”

  I smiled sadly even as I shook my head. “I’m not pushing anything, Mary. I want this job—I need this job too much to risk it.”

  “But you have feelings for him.”

  I stared at the open fields across from her house, the breeze kicking up dust over the pasture. “I am drawn to him. I was the night we met, and it hasn’t changed. I like him.” I chuckled. “Even when he’s all growly and gruff.”

  “Or maybe especially when he’s all growly and gruff?” she teased.

  “Maybe.”

  “He’s always been that way. He was a broody teenager, and he became a taciturn young man. Serious and stern. But he was always kind and helpful. And to the people who knew him best, he was loving and caring. Funny.” She shook her head. “The anger and dismissiveness started after…well, after everything happened last year.”

  I understood. Whatever happened hurt him deeply. Add in the fact that he was still reeling from losing his parents not long before that, and it wasn’t a shock he had changed. I had seen glimpses of the funny, caring man she described. I only hoped he would slowly rediscover that side of himself.

  Mary stood. “Enough about the boy who is no doubt brooding at his house or tinkering in the garage to pass the time. At least I know he isn’t writing any more ads.”

  I grunted as I stood as well. “I hope not.”

  She linked her arm with mine. “Let’s attack that garden.”

  We spent the rest of the weekend in the garden, sitting on the porch sipping wine after dinner, and playing cards. Baking an endless number of pies.

  I took the bike apart, spray-painted it a bright yellow, and scrubbed and polished the chrome. I let it dry overnight, and then I put it back together. Mary had laughed over my color choice, but agreed it was better than the faded white—and much preferable to the shocking pink I had almost chosen.

  Later Sunday afternoon, I loaded my basket with pies to go into the freezer at Maxx’s. Mary had a larger chest freezer where we put the other dozen we had made, so I could come by and take them as needed. Using small pie plates, I had made her a bunch of individual ones to enjoy whenever she wanted one. She was thrilled, having admitted pies were something she couldn’t really make. She had held up her hands. “Too strong. My pastry is like cement every time.”

  I waved goodbye and cycled myself back to the garage. The breeze was cooler today, blowing in my face, which made the ride back a little harder. By the time I arrived, I was winded and thinking I needed to avail myself of Maxx’s treadmill to strengthen my legs.

  Maxx was out front with Rufus, throwing the ball as I came up the driveway. His motorcycle was parked next to his truck, both of them gleaming in the sun, obviously freshly washed and waxed. The Camry was parked off to the side, also having benefited from some detailing work. The creamy white glowed in the sun. I stopped beside the truck, noticing something looked different. I had to bite back my smile when I realized there were now running boards on the truck. He would never admit it, but Maxx added those so I could get in the truck easier.

  He came around the truck, eyeing the bike. “What the hell did you do to it?” he asked. “Yellow?”

  I shrugged. “It was this or pink.”

  “I would have painted it in the shop. And a better color.”

  “I didn’t need you to paint it, Maxx. I like the color—it’s pretty. I’m perfectly capable of handling a can of spray paint,” I stated dryly. “I polished the chrome too.”

  He grunted, and I couldn’t help but tease him.

  “Besides, it looks as if you were plenty busy. Nice running boards.”

  “I’ve had them for a while. First chance I got to install them is all. Don’t read anything into it.”

  I ignored the growly tone. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  He got down on his haunches, inspecting my handiwork. I had taken my time and been careful. I used a rust-inhibiting paint, even smoothing down the rough spots before I covered them. He stood. “Nice job.”

  “Thanks.” I lifted two containers from the basket, handing one to him. “These are frozen, so I need them to go in the freezer right away.”

  “What are they?”

  “Pies.”

  His eyes lit up. “Yeah?” Then he frowned. “Why are they frozen?”

  “So I could pile them in the basket and bring them home.” I held up the other container. “This one is still warm. You can have it after dinner.”

  His face broke into a wide smile, transforming his features. Stern and unflappable was attractive on him. Excited and happy was incredible. His eyes crinkled, his teeth flashed, and his face became intoxicatingly handsome. Dimples appeared by his mouth. His countenance changed entirely. He was devastatingly sexy.

  He shoved the first container back at me, taking the still warm pie plate from my hands. “Nope. I am having a piece right now.”

  He turned and began walking toward the house, calling over his shoulder, “I hope you bought ic
e cream yesterday, Charly.”

  Still enthralled over his sudden openness, I followed slowly, trying to recover my senses. I thought growly was hot on him. If pie did that to him, I’d be baking every day. Holy moly.

  “It was on your list, Maxx, so yes, there is ice cream. I can read, you know.”

  He must have heard me because his laughter floated through the air. I shook my head. This was not good. If he was going to be sexy all the time, I didn’t have a hope in hell of resisting him.

  I walked to the utility room, putting the pies in the freezer. I wanted to add some premade meals for nights I didn’t feel like cooking or on the days I was off, but it was a pretty small freezer and I had already filled it with frozen vegetables and fruit. I wandered into the kitchen, stopping at the sight of Maxx leaning against the counter, shoving pie and ice cream into his mouth.

  “You know,” he mused. “If the internet had a smell factor and you’d flashed one of these pies, I would have hired you just for that, regardless of the fact that—” he grinned widely, his eyes crinkling in that sexy way again “—you chap my ass constantly.”

  It was all I could do not to launch myself at him. He was so appealing right now. Tall, rugged, teasing, and at ease. Eating pie. Throwing my favorite expression at me.

  I rolled my eyes. “Jeez, were you raised in a barn? You wanna chew that pie, Maxx? I spent a lot of effort making it—at least slow down and taste it.”

  He shoveled another mouthful in. “I am tasting it. It’s the best thing I ever ate.” Then he held out his fork. “Taste it.”

  My feet carried me closer, hardly able to believe what he was offering. As I got near, he slipped his fork into my mouth, the tartness of the warm rhubarb and strawberries exploding, highlighted by the cold sweetness of the ice cream.

  I closed my eyes and licked my lips. “Damn, that is good,” I admitted. I opened my eyes to see Maxx staring at me. His dark gaze was intense, focused on my mouth. Our eyes locked as he lifted the fork and drew it between his lips, his tongue sliding over the tines in a long, sensual lick.

  “Yeah,” he uttered. “It really is.”

  My breath came out in a long shudder. I waited for the explosion. Either him yelling at me, or lunging, maybe taking me right there on the counter. Despite his angry words the other day, I knew he wanted me. The evidence of it was in his stare. The bulge in his jeans. The dark, frank look in his eyes.

  But nothing happened. He dropped his gaze and finished the pie in two fast mouthfuls. Then he cut another slice, added more ice cream, and walked away. “Help yourself, Charly. You get one piece. The rest is mine for later.”

  “It’s all yours, Maxx,” I mumbled, my knees feeling weak.

  I heard his chuckle as he walked outside. I also heard what sounded like him saying, “I wish, Red. I wish.”

  But I was certain I was mistaken.

  I made a concerted effort to stay away from Maxx again. I spent the week acting like the perfect employee. I did my job, made sure he had his meals, and spent the evenings in my room, often taking a bike ride and enjoying the scenery. I found it incredibly difficult to try to remain aloof. Watching Maxx without him noticing became an art form for me. I could peer at him as he talked to customers. Paced while on the phone. Ogle his fine ass as he bent over the hood of a car. Groan with barely suppressed lust as he slid underneath the hood on a creeper, his torso disappearing. I wondered how he would react if he felt my hands on his thighs, stroking him, unzipping those jeans and taking him in my mouth, all the while not being able to see me.

  I almost fell off my chair imagining the snarls and cursing that would happen under the car. And what he would do to me when he rolled out. More than once, I had to squeeze my thighs together to ease the ache between them.

  My little room was the only place I could totally relax. I longed for a bath but hadn’t yet asked Maxx if I could use the tub in the house, worried that would be overstepping. I felt lonely at times, yet fairly content.

  Saturday, I did the shopping again, happy not to have run into Wes. Mary and I went for supper later at Zeke’s, enjoying a good burger and some fine cocktails. She always had interesting stories to tell me, some including Maxx and his parents. When we were walking out of the restaurant, Wes Donner and his brother were getting out of their truck. He leered at me, saying something to his brother that amused him and made him eye me up. I ignored them. Mary shot them a look that shut them up.

  “I wish I had that talent.” I smirked.

  “Years of practice,” she replied with a wink. “Those boys are trouble. I never know who is worse—Wes or Chase. They’re both overgrown children who need a good spanking.”

  I snickered at the image. If anyone could do that, it would be Mary.

  “You be on your guard for them. Especially Wes since you embarrassed him. He doesn’t like that.”

  Maxx had said the same thing.

  “I am,” I assured her.

  “Good.”

  Then she changed the subject.

  Sunday, I helped her plant some vegetables, and I baked Maxx another lemon pie. Mary got one too.

  That night, I fell into bed and slept soundly, exhausted from the long week of avoiding Maxx, while fighting the desperate longing for not avoiding him. I wasn’t sure how long I could keep up this charade. He seemed to be handling it just fine. He was polite and courteous but went out of his way to avoid me. He thanked me for his meals, always complimented them, and I knew he’d already taken another pie from the freezer. He was a great boss, but the bottom line was, I liked him better as growly, unpredictable Maxx.

  On Monday, I carried a sandwich into the garage, setting it on the workbench. It had been a hectic morning, and I’d barely had time to talk to Maxx at all. At one point he’d received a call that he’d walked outside to take, and when he came back, his glower was deeper than usual. I knew better than to ask him about it, though. Instead, I stayed busy.

  Maxx was talking to a customer as I went by. He was busy with his hands as he worked on a nice-looking Yamaha. But he glanced up, and I offered him a smile. “Your lunch, boss man, whenever you’re hungry.”

  He nodded, his attention on the man he was talking to. The man chuckled. “Wow—she’s good. You get lunch?”

  Maxx made a low noise, and the customer stepped forward, his hand outstretched. “Cam.”

  I shook his hand. “Charly.”

  “Pleasure.” He indicated Maxx. “You’re far cuter than this lug. You smile too.”

  I had to laugh. “It’s part of the service now.”

  “What else is included?” Cam teased.

  “I want those numbers this afternoon, Charly,” Maxx snapped. “Stop flirting and get to work.”

  Cam threw back his head in amusement. “I hope you get paid well for putting up with the attitude.”

  “I think Maxx considers that one of the perks.”

  Cam chuckled and looked at Maxx. “I like this one.”

  Maxx snorted. Like a real blow the air through your nose and huff at the same time sort of snort. He glared at Cam. “Hands off my staff. I have a firm no mixing business with pleasure policy. Charly can’t date my customers.”

  I managed to hide my surprise at his words. He had never mentioned anything of the sort. And I highly doubted Cam was looking for a date. His tone was teasing and friendly but not personal. He didn’t look remotely interested in me. His next words confirmed that.

  Cam frowned. “My wife will be happy to hear that, Maxx. Relax. I was just being nice.” He eyed him. “You might want to try it.”

  “I’m plenty nice.”

  I had to turn and walk away to stop my laughter. Cam spoke again. “Back to the event. You have to go, Maxx.”

  “I can’t. I’m booked solid.”

  “Can’t you put it off?”

  “No. I can’t just close the garage, Cam.”

  “It’s an amazing opportunity.”

  My steps faltered. What opportunity?
/>   “I guess it’s one I will simply have to say no to.”

  Cam huffed and called my name. “Charly!”

  “Um, yes?”

  “Can you reschedule your boss here so he can be gone for a while?”

  I met Maxx’s expression. It was filled with warning, intense and dark. Telling me not to speak.

  I decided to push back a little. I was tired of being quiet. “I can check.”

  Cam smirked and crossed his arms. “Great.”

  Maxx stepped forward, gripping my arm. “The office,” he snapped.

  I tried not to feel the thrill of his touch or the way his voice made me shiver. In the office, he spun me around. “Stay out of this, Charly.”

  “Stay out of what? Looking at your schedule so you can go somewhere?”

  He crossed his arms, narrowing his gaze. I could feel the anger rolling off him, and I found great delight in it. He had been far too polite and lackluster the past few days. That wasn’t Maxx. Growly, snappy, and terse—that was him.

  I mimicked his stance. “It might do you some good to get away for a while.”

  “I’m not interested in your opinion.”

  I shrugged and sat down. “Fine. Act like a martyr.”

  “I’m not acting like a martyr. I’m acting like a sensible business owner.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I can’t just leave the garage. I have commitments.”

  I crossed my arms and glared at him. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself, Maxx?”

  Dark eyes glared back at me, lethal and threatening. His glower was furious, the knuckles on his hands white as they fisted at his sides.

  “Where exactly would you be going?”

  He dropped his head, shaking it in resignation. “I was offered a chance to be part of a convention in the States. Los Angeles. They had a last-minute cancellation, and my name came up. I would be talking about motorcycle restoration.” He paused. “All expenses paid. I would give a series of talks and demonstrations. They supply everything.”

  “Maxx, that’s amazing!”

  “I was pleased to be asked,” he said, the words all the more telling from the undercurrent in his voice. He wanted to go.