WHY HAD SHE agreed to a walk? Now that they were alone, all she could think about was how he smelled like sweet masculinity. Before last night, she’d never smelled the cologne he was wearing, and she knew that if she ever smelled it on someone else, there was no way it would smell as delicious as he did at that moment.
Oh, dear God. Focus. He’s still the guy who hurt me.
And sent me a cake.
And waited for me in the dark.
His nervousness infiltrated the silence like another person between them.
“Was Savannah mad that you left last night?” Max asked.
“Not really. But she will be mad now. She called this morning, and I forgot to call her back. Do you mind if I just send her a quick text?”
Rather than finding fault that he hadn’t called her back, she admired his dedication to his family. “No, go ahead.”
He did, and as he texted her, his lips rose to a smile.
“You really love your family, don’t you?”
“Sure. Don’t you?” he asked as he put his phone in his pocket.
“Yeah, I guess. But I don’t have any siblings.” Why am I telling you about my family? Focus, Max.
“I can’t even imagine life without them. My mom died when I was eleven, after being sick for years, and afterward, I tried to step into her shoes and take care of them, but I never really pulled it off.”
Her resolve chipped away as she imagined him as a little boy, crushed by the death of his mother and trying to be strong for his brothers and sister.
He continued in a solemn voice. “I mean, I protected them, which was easy. I’m big, so people didn’t mess with them too much, but I couldn’t be Mom.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t even come close.”
They walked along the street that led to town. Goose bumps rose on Max’s arms, and she wished she’d grabbed her jacket from the car.
“I’m sure they appreciated all that you were able to do,” she offered.
“You know, that’s just it. After years of hoping and praying that she’d be okay, I was so broken by her death that I really didn’t do much. I think I let them down, and when it was time to go away to college, I was kind of relieved to get out from under all that guilt.”
His emotions were so raw, as if he’d just experienced leaving his family yesterday instead of years earlier. Max couldn’t stifle the urge to comfort him. He smiled as she wrapped her arm into his.
“I’ve never told anyone that before.”
“No?” He trusts me. I wish I could trust him.
He shook his head. “It feels good to tell you. I want to tell you.” He looked down at her and she was drawn into the sincere and hopeful way he looked at her.
She felt like metal, and he was the magnet, but as she felt his legs stop walking, it was too much. Her determination was fading, and she needed to hang on to it so that she didn’t make the same mistake twice. She drew her eyes back to the sidewalk and broke the connection. Her rapid pulse, however, didn’t take the hint.
“Everyone expected me to help Dad run the ranch, and as much as I wanted to help him, it would mean reliving those memories—the memories of what I couldn’t do—and that was too much for me.”
“I’m sure your family understands,” she said.
“No. I never told them. I still haven’t. I can’t. I’m too ashamed.”
There it was again, another crushing blow to her resolve. What man admitted to being ashamed of anything, much less something so intimate?
“I don’t think I ever did more than any other older sibling does. I let them crawl into my bed at night. I listened when they cried. I told them everything would be okay. You know, normal stuff.”
It was after midnight, and because of the festival, the restaurants and cafés were still open. Max paused, taking in the sparkling lights that glistened through the large windows along the sidewalk and the sound of music that filtered out of the restaurant doors, soaking in the romantic feel of the little town as she listened to Treat.
“I wish I had a brother to listen when I cried when I was younger. I would have done anything to have someone to confide in,” she admitted. “I still wish I did.”
“You have Kaylie,” he said, then winced.
“Yeah, I do.” She’d almost forgotten that he’d met Kaylie and the rest of the wedding party in Nassau.
“I have to confess, I called Blake to ask for advice about reaching you, and he gave me Kaylie’s number. He said that if anyone could reach you, it would be her. It was Kaylie’s idea to try to get you to come outside…for me.”
Kaylie? Chaz’s texts. Ugh, how embarrassing.
“You called her?” She didn’t know if she should be flattered that he’d go to such an extent or angry that he’d put his nose into her personal business.
“I did,” he said with a straight face.
When she smiled, he did as well.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to talk to you,” he said honestly.
“How long were you waiting outside the festival?”
“Since you wouldn’t see me when I brought the cake.”
“Oh, my God. You’ve been waiting since dinnertime?” Flattered. Definitely flattered.
“Kaylie called and said that Chaz couldn’t get you to leave early, so…”
Is there anything he won’t do? She had trouble deciding if that was good or bad.
Max’s stomach growled.
“Wanna grab a bite?” he asked. “I haven’t eaten all day, and you’re obviously hungry.”
Max was surprised to realize that she no longer felt sick to her stomach. “Yes, I’d like that.” Way to stand your ground.
They sat in the back of a little Italian restaurant. Max scanned the menu. Although she was hungry, she knew she wouldn’t be able to eat a whole meal while butterflies were tap dancing in her stomach, not to mention how late it was. When she’d tried to share a meal with…the guy she refused to think about…he’d called her cheap and gross. She’d never again asked another man to share.
“It’s late. Would you like to share a dish instead of getting two whole meals?”
She looked up at him incredulously. How could he possibly know?
“I’m sorry. Are you not a sharer? I forget that some people don’t like to eat off of other people’s plates.”
Damn him. Chalk that up to one more thing to like about him. “No. I love to share. I just…Most guys hate to share food. Why don’t you choose? I’m no good at making food decisions,” she admitted.
“Most women don’t like men to order for them, either.”
His smile held so much contentedness that Max almost reached for his hand. Instead, she put her hands in her lap. After what happened last night, she wasn’t taking any chances. She’d listen to his explanation, thank him for the meal, and then go home to bed. Alone. Really.
TREAT HAD NEVER felt as relaxed during a meal as he did with Max right then. They each had a glass of wine, and they laughed about the size of the cake he’d sent her.
“I have to admit, no one’s ever sent me an enormous chocolate cake before,” she said.
He knew she was being careful with what she said and how she said it. He couldn’t ignore the tension running across her shoulders each time their forks clinked on their shared plate, and she pulled back, as if she’d just realized that they were getting too close. But there was no denying that she was opening up to him, which meant her heart might be receptive, too.
He bided his time as long as he was able, in case she heard what he had to say and decided to bolt. He knew from last night that the possibility was as real as the food they’d just shared. He asked the waiter for two more glasses of wine, but not without first asking Max.
“Yes, thank you,” she’d answered with a tentative smile.
“May I?” he asked, moving the candle and the condiments from the center of the table so that the space between them was clear. The fewer obstacles, the better.
“I don�
�t want to spoil a wonderful evening, but I have been thinking about you all day. Hell, I’ve been thinking about you for six months, seven days, and I have no idea how many hours.” He watched her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Max, the last thing I want is for you to misread me.”
“I don’t think I misread you,” she said with a shake of her head.
“No, you didn’t. I wanted to be the guy you were with, and when I saw you in Nassau and knew you’d spent the night with that other guy, I realized I’d lost my chance. You saw an ugly, jealous, petty side of me that I don’t think has ever reared its ugly head.” He ran a hand through his thick hair, thinking of the condescending look he’d given her when he’d seen her wearing the same clothes she’d had on the night before, her cheeks flushed, her hair tousled. Just the thought of it made jealousy simmer within him again. “That’s not true. There was one time in college when my brother Dane slept with my girlfriend. I probably shared that look then, too.”
She didn’t respond.
“But I wasn’t your boyfriend,” he said, knowing he’d read her silence perfectly.
“Exactly.” She nodded.
Her walls were going up again, and he had to slip in before they reached the top. He feared he’d never have another chance.
“I had no claim to you, and I did the wrong thing. I let my pain guide me, and I never should have. I’ve regretted it ever since the very second I saw the hurt in your eyes. There’s no excuse. I was wrong. I didn’t know what to do with the magnitude of emotions that I was feeling. Max, I have never been in love before.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I’ve never been in love,” he corrected himself. “So I didn’t understand what I felt when I saw you.”
“You didn’t even know me,” she said in almost a whisper.
“No. I didn’t.”
“I could have been a nasty, awful, devious person.”
“Yes, you could have,” he admitted.
“I could have been a gold digger and convinced you to spend all sorts of money on me.”
He raised his brows and smiled. “I hadn’t thought of that, but yes, you could have.”
She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. “So how can you compare what you felt—lust, desire, whatever—with love?”
The look on her face pained him. Her eyes pleaded, Love me! while her contentious tone screamed, Liar!
Treat did the one thing he knew was right and the only thing he wanted to do. He told the truth. “I have spent my entire life afraid to fall in love. I assumed that, like with my mother, when you love someone too much, God takes them away. It sounds stupid when I say it aloud, and cognitively, I know that I worry because I was so young when I lost my mother and spent many years watching my father grieve for her. Hell, he’s still grieving for her. But, Max, even though I know it sounds irrational, it’s true, and now I’m trying to push this fear I’ve lived with for so long aside, and it’s scary and empowering all at the same time.”
He waited for her to respond. Every passing second was excruciating. Every passing minute confirmed her disbelief. He didn’t know what else to do but to continue.
“Whatever I felt when I saw you, it brought the belief right up to the surface again, and in my head I thought, Don’t get close to her. Something will happen to one of you.”
Max stared, her mouth slightly parted, her face a blank slate. The pleading and screaming was gone from her eyes.
“Max?”
She finished her wine.
She doesn’t believe me. I’ve lost any chance I had.
“Max, are you gonna say anything?”
The waiter came by with the check, and Treat was thankful for a distraction from the tension of his looming confession. He paid the waiter quickly while his mind ticked off seconds as if they were inches—each one drawing Max further away from him.
“Thank you for telling me.”
Chapter Eleven
MAX BANGED HER head on the steering wheel. Thanks for telling me? What the hell was I thinking? He’d poured out his heart to her and she’d thrown away his raw emotions like they’d meant nothing. Didn’t she believe him? She pondered the thought, replaying the evening in her mind. She’d seen his eyes change in the restaurant, heard the vulnerability in his voice. She hadn’t even meant to say Thank you for telling me. She didn’t know why she’d said it. All she remembered was trying to keep herself from admitting to him how hurt she’d been by…that guy. She didn’t want to have to try to explain how someone else had called her names and that she’d stayed with him anyway. Sure, she was much younger then and she should have gotten past it, but the hurt had cut her to the core, and that flash of a look from Treat had come with the same sharp edge.
She’d believed every word he said as he poured his heart out on the table for her to see. And then she’d broken him. She’d goddamn broken him. She saw it in the way he walked with his arms closer to his body, his pace quicker than on their way into town. She knew it from the silence that separated them like a barrier. And if she had to do it all over again, she might just do it again, because she was broken, too.
She pulled into the apartment complex and her cell phone vibrated with an incoming text. This time she picked it up quickly, hoping it was Treat.
So? Everything okay?
Kaylie. She debated not texting back as she walked toward the stairs, but the words that Chaz had parroted back to her floated into her mind. She stopped walking and texted, Nope. Couldn’t B worse. Going 2 bed. Alone.
She climbed the steps feeling twice as exhausted as she had ten minutes earlier. Her phone vibrated again. She stopped on the second floor to read the text.
Sorry. Want me 2 come over?
She smiled, wishing she hadn’t given away the chocolate cake. A sweets coma might just make her feel better. She texted, I’m okay. Thx tho.
A small gift bag hung from her apartment doorknob.
“I was coming to get that.”
Max jumped. “Jesus, Treat. You scared the shit out of me again.” She put her hand over her heart and leaned against the wall, trying to calm her racing heart.
“I’m truly sorry. I thought I could beat you here.” He reached for the bag.
“What’s in that?”
“Nothing. It was stupid,” he answered.
Standing close to him again brought a different kind of rush through her body. She reached for the bag, brushing his hand. He glanced down, as if longing for the touch, then released the bag to Max.
She peered inside and removed two envelopes. She looked up at him.
“I’m gonna go.” He held her gaze and reached out, gently touching her cheek in a way that sent a million naughty thoughts through her mind, chased by one overwhelming feeling that was bigger than anything she’d ever felt.
“Goodbye, Max.”
She watched him descend the stairs, and when his footsteps faded into the night, she opened the small envelope marked “1” and read the handwritten note.
Dearest Max,
If I chicken out tonight and do not tell you why I was such an ass in Nassau, just read the other note. If I do tell you, toss the bag away and kiss me.
Yours, Treat
She smiled. He had told her. Toss the bag away and kiss me. She looked at the empty stairwell, then quickly tore open the other envelope with trembling hands. Hurry! Hurry! Her heart pushed her to move faster.
Dearest Max,
I never believed in love at first sight until I met you, and it scared me so badly that I didn’t have a clue about what to do. I’m sorry, Max. I wanted to take care of you, but if I’ve failed you, I’ll leave you alone to heal.
Love, Treat.
She pressed the notes to her heart and opened the door. She thought about chasing after him, but she’d made a mistake once, and her heart wasn’t ready. She had to be sure this time. Her mind was dancing with happiness as she read and reread the note over and over during the next two hours as she lay on her bed thin
king of the evening and letting the words in his note sink in. Every hour that passed brought more surety. Treat had gone to great lengths, romantic lengths, to let her know how he felt, and she’d been cold. As her heart opened to him, she thought of how she’d apologize for the way she left things. Thank you for telling me. Sure, she hadn’t handled things well in the restaurant, but wouldn’t he understand? Any man who could reveal such personal turmoil would certainly understand being wounded by a past love.
Max fell asleep with the letters in her hands.
Chapter Twelve
SAYING GOODBYE TO his father would be the hardest part of the evening. Even harder than accepting that he would never set eyes on Max again.
“I’ve been waiting up for you, son,” his father said. “Figured you might need to talk.”
Treat told his father everything. Every sordid detail, from the way he’d made Max feel that night in Nassau to the intimacy they’d shared and the way they were torn apart by her memory of his hurtful actions. He told his father about the cake, the walk, and the feelings that had taken him off guard and left him floundering—and he told his father about the fear he’d secretly carried his whole life.
Hal Braden wasn’t a man who talked just to hear his own voice. He chose his words carefully and rarely doled out unsolicited advice to his children. So when he asked Treat to listen carefully, Treat did just that.
“Treat, I’ve been waiting for you to figure out what was holding your heart back all these years. For a while, I wasn’t sure if it was something I did when you were growing up. I did my best, but being both mother and father had its trying times. Then I worried that maybe you just hadn’t met the right woman yet. But when I looked into your eyes earlier today, I saw the fear in them. And I saw the love, too. I knew that what I’d worried about for so long was true. Son, your mama didn’t die because of our love for each other. Surely you know that.”
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