by Lara Lacombe
Get it together, she told herself. He hasn’t really touched you.
Not yet, anyway, said a traitorous voice in her head.
She turned back to Max, thanking him for taking her coat.
“My pleasure,” he said. He picked up the bottle of wine and gestured for her to move forward. “I’ll get this opened so it can breathe.”
Molly followed him a few steps but paused when she caught sight of the dog on the couch. “He looks comfortable.”
The dog cocked an ear, his eyes still closed. Apparently deciding she wasn’t worth the effort, he relaxed again with a soft doggy sigh.
Max glanced back, holding the wine bottle and opener. He looked at the dog, an indulgent smile on his face. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told him to stay off the furniture.”
“So you’re saying he’s a good listener.”
Max laughed. The sound was deep and joyful and it rolled into her chest and warmed her from the inside out. He returned to the kitchen and she followed, suddenly wanting to give him a reason to laugh again.
It smelled wonderful, the aromas of something hot and Italian heavy in the air. Her stomach growled loudly; she pressed a hand over it and glanced up to see if Max had noticed.
He had.
“I’m hungry, too,” he said with a smile. “Let’s talk while we eat.”
Molly offered to help, but Max shooed her away. “You’re my guest,” he said.
She appreciated his manners, especially as it gave her an opportunity to watch him move around the kitchen. He wore jeans and a dark green button-down shirt that enhanced his eyes. The sleeves were rolled up, a casual look that she found sexy. His forearms were dusted with fine red-gold hairs; the lamplight in the dining area made his skin look gilded.
In a matter of minutes, he had the table set and the food in place. He poured her a glass of wine, gesturing for her to sit across from him.
Molly hid a smile as he plated the food. The lasagna looked amazing, and also quite familiar. Che Bello was the best Italian place in Roaring Springs—apparently, it hadn’t taken Max long to find it.
But would he take credit for the food? Molly decided to test him, curious to see how he would react. Would he tell her the truth? Or would he pretend to have cooked everything himself, soaking up praise for a job he hadn’t done?
Either way, his reaction would tell her something about who he was as a man.
Let’s see if you’re as good a guy as Blaine says, she thought wryly.
“This is delicious,” she remarked, careful to keep any hint of suspicion out of her voice.
He smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Where did you learn to cook like this?”
Max took a sip of wine. “Oh, it’s just something I picked up along the way.”
Molly considered his response as she took another bite. Technically, he was telling the truth. She decided to push a little harder.
“Let me guess—you have an Italian grandmother who taught you everything she knows?”
“Ah, not exactly.” He shifted a bit in his seat, the tips of his ears turning pink.
His embarrassment made her feel a little better about their encounter this afternoon. He’d been so cool and collected the whole time, as if it was no big deal she’d walked in on him in a towel. It was kind of nice to have the shoe on the other foot.
“You know,” she said, deciding to put him out of his misery, “there’s a place in town that makes lasagna almost as good as yours. It’s called Che Bello. Maybe you saw it on the drive in?”
Max choked a bit on his wine, his eyes flying up to meet her gaze. He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, a sheepish smile forming on his lips.
“You got me,” he said. “But in my defense, I never said I actually made it.”
Molly laughed softly. “No, you didn’t.”
He studied her from across the table, his eyes bright with curiosity. “You’re not like most women, are you?”
The question surprised her, and she took a sip of wine to stall. “I’m not sure,” she finally said. “In what way?”
He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “A lot of the women I know wouldn’t have teased me about the food. And they definitely wouldn’t have been bothered by catching me just out of the shower.”
“Oh, no?”
He shook his head. “Most of them would have seen it as an invitation.”
She tsked at him. “You poor thing. I’m sure you have to beat the ladies off with a stick.” It was a scenario she didn’t care to imagine, and frankly she found this line of conversation tiring. If Max was going to spend the evening emphasizing his conquests, she was going to fake a headache and leave soon. She didn’t get a lot of time off, and she wasn’t interested in spending it with a man who wanted to talk about his various friends-with-benefits arrangements.
He laughed, another full-throated rumble that wrapped around her like a blanket. “Oh, hardly,” he said. “I haven’t dated anyone in over a year. But I spend a lot of time trying to raise money for my foundation, and I meet a lot of unhappily married women.” He shook his head. “Some of them have offered large donations in exchange for a bit of adventure.”
Molly’s annoyance faded in the face of his candid explanation. “That must make things awkward.” It had to be difficult, trying to let the wives down easy so their husbands would donate to his charity.
“Yeah. It’s a tough needle to thread sometimes.” He took another bite of lasagna, then nodded at her. “But enough about me. I want to know more about you.”
“There’s not much to tell,” she said, scooping more food onto her fork. Molly had never felt comfortable talking about herself, a fact that wasn’t about to change now. Still, she appreciated his interest and wanted to keep the conversation flowing. “I grew up in the area, started working at The Lodge during my summer breaks as a teenager. I went to college in Denver, then came back here.”
“How long have you known Blaine?”
“Oh, for a while,” she said with a smile. “Seeing as how he’s my cousin.”
“Ah, so you joined the family business.”
She shrugged. “In a manner of speaking, yes.”
Max took another sip of wine. “Well, for what it’s worth, between you and Blaine it’s clear you got the looks.”
It was an obvious attempt at flattery, but it made Molly’s stomach flutter nonetheless. “Better not tell him,” she said. “You’ll break his heart.”
Max shot her a conspiratorial grin. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
Molly took another drink, surprised to see the bottom of her glass. She had a pleasant buzz going, despite the fact that Max hadn’t poured her a large glass.
He reached for the bottle, brows lifted in question. Molly shook her head. “Not right now.”
“Already feeling the effects?” he teased.
She nodded. “What can I say? I’m a cheap date.”
“I’ll keep that in mind for the next time,” he murmured.
Molly felt her face flush. “Tell me about your charity.” Blaine had mentioned it once or twice, but she was curious to know more.
Max dabbed at his mouth with a napkin. “It’s called K-9 Cadets. Basically, we work to pair military veterans with service dogs.”
“Oh, wow.” That sounded impressive. “How does that work?”
“It starts when a veteran contacts us. We meet with them to determine what kind of support they need, then we begin the process of matching them with a dog.”
“How do you find the dogs? I don’t imagine you can pick them up at the local shelter.”
“You’d be surprised,” Max commented. “We do scan the shelters regularly to identify animals that look promising. If we find one, we’ll adopt the dog and start training.”
It s
ounded fascinating, and so far removed from Molly’s daily activities. “You train the dogs, too?”
He shook his head. “We partner with several organizations who go through the nuts and bolts of training. But we’re involved with it, and we look at how the animal behaves during training to help pair them with a veteran.”
“What do the dogs do?” Molly’s experience with canines was limited to her friends’ pets. She was more of a cat person, though she liked dogs as a rule.
“That depends,” Max said. “For veterans who have physical limitations, we pair them with a dog who has been trained to assist in daily tasks. Other veterans need emotional support, so in those cases, we pair them with an animal whose training reflects that.”
Molly reached for the wine bottle, fascinated. “Was Furbert your first match?”
“In a manner of speaking.” He told her how the dog had found him during a patrol in the desert. Molly glanced at the couch while he spoke. It was hard to imagine the happy, healthy-looking dog as a bony puppy. But she recalled the intelligence in his eyes when he’d met her a few hours ago, and could easily picture him warning Max and his men about the bomb.
Tears pricked her eyes as he described the way Furbert had comforted the mourning soldiers.
“That’s when I knew,” Max said. “Every veteran deserves that kind of support. So I made it my mission to help them.”
Molly sniffed. “That’s very noble.”
“I don’t know about that.” He passed her a napkin, and she swiped her eyes dry. “Don’t go thinking I’m a hero,” he said. “I came back whole. Not everyone does.”
“True, but you were willing to sacrifice yourself. Not everyone signs up for that risk. That’s pretty heroic if you ask me.”
Max looked down, took a sip of his wine. It was clear he wasn’t comfortable with her praise. But Molly knew it was the truth.
Something cold nudged her elbow. She looked down to find Furbert sitting by her chair, staring up at her.
She smiled down at him. “I’m okay, buddy.” She glanced at Max, saw him watching them with a smile. “Can I pet him?”
“Sure, but just know that once you do, you’ve made a friend for life.”
She stroked his head, tentatively at first, then with gradually increasing pressure. Furbert’s fur was soft, his ears like warm velvet. He sighed with pleasure and rested his head in her lap as she ran her hand along his head and down his back. There was something deeply soothing about petting a dog, especially one who apparently enjoyed it so much. The stress of her day melted away as she scratched Furbert’s ears, and for the first time, she understood why her friends thought their dogs were worth the effort it took to take care of them.
“Would you like to move to the den?”
“That sounds nice.” Molly picked up her glass and followed Max to the sofa with Furbert trotting at her heels.
Max sat on one end of the couch and she sat on the other. Furbert took the middle cushion, resting his head in Molly’s lap and wagging his tail in Max’s. “He’s so sweet,” she said.
“He really is,” Max agreed. “He’s very sensitive to moods, and if he thinks someone is upset, he doesn’t hesitate to try to comfort them.”
“I’m glad you found him.” It broke her heart to think of him wandering alone out in the desert, trying to survive under the unforgiving sun.
“I think it was the other way around,” Max said with a smile. “But I agree with your sentiment.”
They fell into an easy conversation, talking about everything and nothing. Max was so easy to talk to, Molly found herself confessing her irrational fear of birds. She bit her lip, expecting him to laugh at her the way most people did. But he merely looked at her with kind eyes.
“That must be hard,” he said. “Especially living here, with all the wildlife.”
“It’s rough sometimes,” she admitted. “I’m not paralyzed by fear to the point I can’t go outside. But there are definitely some tough moments.”
“I’m afraid of spiders,” he said.
Molly eyed him, trying to decide if he was being serious or just hoping to make her feel better.
Apparently, her expression gave away her thoughts. “It’s true,” he insisted. “I hate them.”
“They’re not my favorite, either,” she said.
“Too many eyes, too many legs.” He shuddered. “They creep me out. The small ones I can handle, but you should have seen some of the spiders that live in the desert.”
Molly wrinkled her nose. “No, thank you.”
He laughed. “There was one time we were out on patrol, and we stopped for a short break. I sat on a big rock and started dumping the sand out of my boots. My buddies started laughing, but they wouldn’t tell me why. My friend Joseph waited until I had my boots back on, then pointed behind me. I turned around and found a camel spider sitting in my shadow.” He shook his head at the memory. “I jumped straight up into the air with a scream that nearly ruptured my team’s eardrums.”
“Oh, man.” Molly laughed. “If I had a bird that close to me, I’d die of a heart attack.”
“I nearly did,” he said. “Logically, I know they’re not dangerous to humans. He was just trying to get some relief from the sun. But in the moment, all I could think about was getting far, far away.”
“Was Furbert with you then?”
“I’d left him on base. And I’m not ashamed to admit I gave him a big hug when I got back.”
The dog’s tail thumped against the cushion, as if he knew they were talking about him.
“It’s a good thing you had him,” Molly said, stroking his fur.
“No kidding,” Max replied. “Especially since I wasn’t getting any sympathy from the rest of the guys on my team.”
Molly laughed and glanced out the window. Night had fallen while they’d talked, turning the pine trees from green to black. Soft lights illuminated the path from the cabin’s back door to a hiking trail, and in their yellow glow, she saw fat snowflakes dropping silently to the ground. It would be cold outside, a marked contrast to the cozy warmth of the cabin.
She glanced back to the sofa. Furbert’s head was a welcome weight in her lap. The wine, the food and the dog had left her feeling content in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time. The evening had evolved in an unexpected direction, thanks mostly to the man sitting nearby.
Molly had found Max attractive from the start, but he was even more appealing to her now. She hadn’t thought they would be so compatible; in truth, she had expected him to be focused so completely on his job he wouldn’t want to talk about much else.
Nothing had been further from the truth.
This is what dating is supposed to feel like, she told herself. It had been so long since she’d made an effort to connect with a man, she’d almost forgotten how nice it could be.
Too bad she’d rediscovered this feeling with a guest who would be leaving soon.
Molly met his eyes. She needed to leave now, before she got too comfortable here. This had been a pleasant evening, but it was not going to lead to anything more. Max and his dog would return to their normal lives, and she would remain here.
“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?”
Molly blinked at his question, which eerily echoed her own thoughts. Max sounded equal parts disappointed and understanding, matching her mood perfectly.
“It is getting late,” she said. Reluctantly, she shifted on the seat, disturbing Furbert. He lifted his head, clearly confused as to why she would choose to interrupt their comfortable arrangement. “Sorry, buddy,” she said to him.
The dog emitted a long-suffering sigh and jumped to the floor. Max stood, holding out his hand. Molly slid her hand into his, palm against palm.
She stood, the sudden change in position making her head spin. Or maybe that was her proximity to Max
? He hadn’t stepped back to give her room, so now only inches separated them.
He smelled even better than she remembered. This close, she could see the flutter of his pulse in his neck. She leaned forward a bit, smiling to herself as she watched the beat speed up in response to her movement.
She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes. “Thank you for dinner,” she said softly. “I had a nice time.”
“So did I,” he replied. His voice was quiet, hardly more than a low rumble that made her think of thunder from a distant storm.
Molly knew she should turn around and walk out the door. But her feet felt rooted in place, unable or perhaps unwilling to move.
“Let me get your coat,” Max offered. Except he didn’t move, either. They stood there next to the couch, locked in each other’s gravitational pull. Who would be the first to break away?
The air between them crackled with awareness. Alcohol and anticipation were a potent combination in Molly’s system, making her feel simultaneously languid and hyperalert to any subtle changes in Max’s body.
Slowly, cautiously, he dipped his head. Molly recognized the invitation, and rose up on her toes. They met in the middle, lips brushing hesitantly before fully committing to the kiss.
Max’s mouth was hot and tasted of wine. Molly placed her hands on his shoulders, needing to anchor herself in place so she could fully embrace the sensations running through her. Sparks of desire zinged through her limbs and settled into her core, making her feel as though she were holding a live wire.
He trailed the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip. Molly opened her mouth with a moan, her body practically melting against his. He was warm and solid and he wrapped his arms around her, filling her senses with his taste, his scent, his touch.
She tightened her grip on Max’s shoulders, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt. It wasn’t enough. She needed more—more contact, more access. More of him.
Molly slid her hands down the flat expanse of his chest. She knew from their initial meeting he was leanly muscled, and she felt the solid strength of him under her fingertips. But before she could settle into an exploration of his body, he distracted her by skimming one hand down the side of her torso. Goose bumps sprang up in the wake of his touch, despite the fact that he hadn’t actually made contact with her skin.
