I found my envelope clutch which was a soft, fawn suede, understated and not gold, pulled out my fawn-colored pashmina that had a hint of sheen but wasn’t overboard, spritzed with perfume, grabbed my wineglass and headed downstairs.
“Max?” I called when I hit the bottom and looked around to see he wasn’t in the kitchen or living room.
Maybe he got tired of waiting and he’d gone without me though I doubted this was the case and decided he was probably doing something Max-ish. Chopping wood. Building a barn. Saving a child in distress or climbing a tree to rescue a cat. Stuff like that.
I dropped the clutch and pashmina by my purse on the dining table, walked to the sink, cleaned the glass, set it in the dish drainer and walked back to my purse.
I’d put on my lip gloss and was filling my clutch with what I needed from my purse when I heard Max walk in from the back of the house.
I turned my head to see he was wearing his black leather jacket and he’d changed his jeans to a pair that was less faded but still faded. He had on a heavy black belt, black boots and a midnight blue shirt that had wine and dark gray stripes in it. His thick, dark hair was swept back from his face and how he got it to do that so perfectly (since I’d looked and found no products in his bathroom) was a mystery.
He looked good enough to eat.
I felt my breasts swell as I watched his eyes hit me and for some reason, when they did, he suddenly stopped.
“Ready,” I called with faux breeziness in an attempt to hide my response to his amazingness and I looked back to the clutch.
I was flipping it closed when I heard his boots on the wood floors and then I felt him get close.
My head came up as his arms circled me from behind, high at my ribs, his hand flattening at the side of my left breast. Then I felt him bury his face in my neck.
I froze.
“All right, Duchess,” he growled against my neck, “I won’t bitch about waitin’ for you to get ready if this is what I get.”
The nipples in my swollen breasts got hard as his compliment struck deep.
“Max,” I whispered.
“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he muttered, his nose brushing my ear and that coupled with his sweet talk sent a shiver along my skin.
My eyes caught on something sparkly and focused on our reflection in the window. Max, his face still in my neck, his big body in his dark clothes surrounding me; me, my light hair, my glittery top, snug and safe in his arms.
I liked what I saw so much, without thinking, my arms crossed and my hands covered his.
“We’re going to be late,” I said quietly, not able to tear my eyes from our reflection, not able to stop his words from making me warm, not able to call up all the reasons why he was so good, so wonderful, but he was no good for me. I could just call up all the reasons why he was so good and wonderful and got stuck on that.
His thumb moved to stroke the side of my breast and I melted back into him.
“Max, steak. I’m hungry,” I lied. I could eat, definitely, there was rarely a time when I couldn’t, but I would rather stay standing there in Max’s arms maybe for the rest of my life.
His head came up but his arms gave me a squeeze and he kissed my temple before letting me go.
“Steak, yeah,” he muttered with obvious lack of enthusiasm, he grabbed my hand, I grabbed my bag and scarf and he pulled me to the closet.
“Am I too fancy?” I asked, settling my scarf around my neck with difficulty as I also was holding my clutch in that hand as he opened the door, dropped my other hand, reached in and grabbed my coat.
He closed the door and his eyes hit me. I stopped breathing under the heat of his stare. Then he gave me a one word answer.
“No.”
He shook out my coat and held it up and I realized he was holding it for me to slide my arms into. I turned my back and did so, he settled it on my shoulders then his arms came around, his fingers curling around the edges of my coat and he brought it closer around me. I’d had men help me with my coat but not like that. As with everything Max, he did it far, far better.
He let my coat go, grabbed my hand and pulled me to the door.
We were standing outside while he locked it when he muttered, “Keep that top close.”
“Sorry?” I asked his profile and he turned to me, moving fast, all of a sudden he reached a hand out to curl around the back of my head and he yanked me forward so I had to put up both hands to break my fall. I did and they hit the hard wall of his chest.
“That top,” he said when he dipped his face close and I realized his voice sounded funny. It was intense but it was also hoarse like when we were fooling around and I understood why when he again spoke. “Tonight, when I fuck you, I want you naked. Later, I want you ridin’ my cock wearin’ nothin’ but that fuckin’ top.”
My knees buckled and my fingers curled, the nails of the hand not clutching my bag grazing his chest as they did so and I just stared at him unable to function mainly because I was lost in his eyes at the same time I was focused on what my body was feeling and I liked both of these things so much there was no room for anything else.
“Babe, you don’t move away, Mindy and Brody are gonna eat alone.”
“Okay,” I whispered but didn’t move.
We both stood there staring at each other unmoving in the cold night air on his porch.
His mouth twitched and he murmured his prompt, “Duchess.”
I jumped and pulled away, mumbling, “Right.”
He slung his arm around my shoulders and walked me to the passenger side of the Cherokee beeping the locks as he went. He opened my door and waited for me to pull myself in before he closed my door again.
I was buckling up and Max was rounding the hood when I realized he’d helped me with my coat and he’d opened my door.
I was in trouble. Wonder Max was getting even more wonderful, something I didn’t think was possible but there it was, all around me.
Drat.
Max got in, buckled in, started the truck and backed out. We were out of the lane and on our way and I was trying to pull myself together, remember all the reasons why Max equaled future disaster for me. I’d thought it through at lunch and I remembered I’d been pretty convinced. However, an amazing orgasm and Max’s brand of flattery seemed to have built an invisible wall against my mind travelling down that path.
Max’s hand found mine and his fingers laced through it, tugging it toward him and again resting the back of it against his hard thigh.
“Brody seems nice,” I said into the silence, suddenly wanting it filled so I wasn’t stuck in my head.
“He is,” Max replied and shared no further.
“How long have you two been friends?”
“Long’s I can remember,” Max answered. “He lived next to us while I was growin’ up. His Mom and Dad got divorced, his Dad moved away, remarried. His Mom remarried too, had Mindy and his Mom and stepdad still live next to my Mom.”
“Oh.”
He let my fingers go but, strangely, turned my hand and pressed the palm into his thigh, curling my fingers around its muscled contour. I pulled in a silent breath at this intimate gesture as he downshifted to take the turn, gained speed then his hand came back to mine and his fingers laced through.
I understood it then. This was Max’s way of telling me he didn’t want me to pull my hand away when he had to let me go.
Yes, I was right, Max was becoming more wonderful and I was in trouble.
I swallowed and out of nowhere thoughts assailed me. His sister telling me he was a player. His unfathomable relationship with Shauna. His talented hand between my legs. His inability or perhaps unwillingness to share important facts about his life.
And this last leading me to remember the photograph of him and Anna on their wedding day.
All of this reminding me that Max had once been married and bringing to mind the fact that, for what I deduced was a good while, he had not.
However, it was my
guess and Kami’s insinuation that he had been busy.
None of which he’d shared with me but all of which he’d demanded I share with him.
“There were pictures in Bitsy’s house,” I blurted as he stopped at the intersection to the main road, his hand flattened mine on his thigh again and he looked to the left and right, waiting for his opportunity to turn.
“Yeah?” he asked distractedly and I slid my hand way.
He stopped looking left and right, his head twisted to me and his hand shot out and grabbed mine, bringing it back and pressing it against his thigh.
His voice was soft when he explained, “I like your touch, honey.”
I left my hand where it was because I liked his explanation probably better than he liked my touch. I did this even though my protective instinct was waking up and it was likely I did it not only because I liked his explanation but I also liked touching him.
His attention went back to the road, he found his opening, turned right and after he’d gained our cruising speed, his fingers laced in mine again.
“There were pictures of you,” I went back to my topic and Max’s hand squeezed mine.
“Not surprised,” Max replied off-handedly. “Bitsy likes photos and I’ve known her a long time.”
“How long?”
“Since school.”
“She a friend that long?”
“Yeah.”
“There was a picture of you and Curtis Dodd,” I told him. “It looked like you were friends.”
I thought he’d understand where I was leading with this and maybe share. But he didn’t or at least he didn’t share the important bits.
“Yeah, we were friends, long time ago. Brody, Curt and me hung out together in high school. We all played ball.”
“Ball?”
“Football.”
“Oh.”
He said no more and I waited, giving him his opening and he didn’t take it.
“What happened?” I asked softly, thinking I knew and bracing for impact.
“Lotsa shit,” Max answered and kept talking, “after school, Curt and me were in business together, construction, small jobs. He wanted to take it in a different direction, the one he took and he wanted me with him. He was determined and eventually got in my face. I didn’t like it, not him gettin’ in my face or what he planned to do and I knew the town wouldn’t either. I tried to talk him out of it. He didn’t listen.”
He stopped speaking and I waited again for him to share further.
He didn’t.
“But you stayed close to Bitsy,” I remarked.
“Yeah,” he replied and he started to move his thumb, using it to stroke the back of my hand.
That felt nice in a way that interfered with my ability to put together the words to tell him I’d seen his wedding photo when Max changed the subject.
“Got an idea.”
“An idea?”
“Yeah.”
“What idea?”
“Next week, I’ll introduce you to George.”
“George?”
“Attorney in town, only one we got. Last time I talked to him he was talkin’ about expanding, findin’ a partner. All the new folks around, work’s pilin’ up.”
My heart started beating faster and I said softly, “Max –”
But Max kept talking, proving that while my mind was on future disaster, Max’s mind was on other things entirely. “Best season to rent the house is winter. The A-Frame is in demand, I jack up the rent and, still, it’s booked solid, back-to-back. Construction dies down in winter too, jobs less easy to find. You and me can go to your brother’s house after Thanksgivin’, come back February, March. That enough for you?”
He was planning our future.
And it sounded like a good plan, a thoughtful plan, a generous plan. Max giving me what I needed, time in Charlie’s house, time to spend in England, my other home. It was, if we could swing it financially, the perfect compromise.
Even so, I informed him quietly, “Max, we’ve known each other a week.”
His hand squeezed mine and he asked, “And?”
I looked at him and repeated incredulously, “And?”
“Yeah,” he replied, not taking his eyes from the road, “and?”
“We barely know each other,” I explained unnecessarily.
“Met your Dad, heard your history with all those dicks and your Mom likes me,” he said and this was, of course, all true. “Also seen you pissed, sick, sweet, you love my house and it’s fair to say we got chemistry.”
“Yes, but –”
“No ‘but’, just ‘yes’.”
“Yes, but, that’s insane.”
He glanced at me and asked, sounding like he was getting annoyed, “Why the fuck’s it insane?”
“Max, we’ve known each other a week,” I repeated.
“You like the town?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s pretty.”
“You like Mindy, Arlene, Cotton, Becca, Bitsy?”
“Of course.”
“They like you too.”
That, I had to admit, felt nice since I liked them all a whole lot.
However, for sanity’s sake, I kept fighting my corner and explained, “Max, you don’t make decisions like this on the fly.”
His hand tightened in mine and it was so tight it almost hurt.
“So… what? You’re sayin’ you sit, you wait, you let life slide by while you decide to make the decision you were gonna make in the first damned place and hope to God some shit doesn’t happen, like you get in a car accident, lose your legs or worse, your fuckin’ life.”
I felt my chest freeze at what I read in his words so I could do nothing but breathe, “Max –”
He maybe didn’t hear me for he kept speaking. “Say you just lose your legs then you got the rest of your life to think about all those months you wasted, not livin’ it.”
That I knew too well.
Still, I whispered, “Max –”
But he knew I knew it and his voice dipped softer, he was still irate but he was attempting to be gentle. “I figure, what you went through with your brother, Duchess, you get it.”
“I just got out of a relationship,” I explained, latching onto another defense, no matter how lame.
“You didn’t just get out of that relationship, Nina, you been out of it for awhile, you just recognized you were.”
God, it was so annoying how bloody smart he was.
I yanked at my hand to no avail so I let it relax but twisted my head to look out the window and suggested sharply, “Let’s not talk about this.”
“Why? Because you know I’m right?”
I twisted my head back to him and used my words as an accusation, a loud one, a loud one that bounced around the cab. “You’re moving too fast!”
“Found somethin’ I want, don’t tend to fuck around when that happens, Duchess. Ever.”
Although his words made my belly feel kind of squishy in a good way, my mind reminded me he was annoying.
“Perhaps, Macho Mountain Man Max, you’ll give me a second to breathe and get my head sorted before I decide to turn my life on a dime. Or would that be asking too much?” I queried sarcastically.
“You don’t wanna breathe, babe, you wanna find time to repair your shield to hold me back. Since I’m guessin’ I got in more than your pants today the answer is, yeah, that’s askin’ too much.”
I yanked at my hand, again to no avail, gave up and snapped, “God, you’re so annoying.”
“You fight with Niles?” Max asked suddenly.
“No.”
“Never?”
“No! And stop asking about Niles,” I demanded.
He ignored my demand and kept questioning. “Didn’t care enough to fight, didn’t match you in fire or was so lazy, he just put up with your shit?”
My head shook back and forth, short, angry shakes.
Then I repeated, “My shit?”
“Yeah, babe, your shit
.”
I crossed my one free arm on my chest, it wasn’t much but I suspected it made somewhat of a statement, and declared, “I’m not talking about this.”
“That’s what I thought,” Max said, not sounding annoyed anymore but amused. “All of ‘em, didn’t care, no fire and lazy as hell.”
I looked out the passenger side window unable to retort since he was correct, on all counts.
“Poor Nina,” Max muttered, lifting my hand in his and I felt his lips against my knuckles before he dropped it back to his thigh and he finished, still muttering, “you must have been bored outta your fuckin’ brain.”
I turned to look at him and announced, “Regardless of the fact that Brody has been your friend since childhood and you undoubtedly wish for me to make a good impression, I’m giving you fair warning that I am, as of now, officially no longer speaking to you.”
This made him burst out laughing. I turned my head away and commenced fuming.
His hand gave mine another squeeze and he said, “Have at it, Duchess, Brody got you the minute you put your arms around Mindy this afternoon. You could probably set fire to the Cherokee in The Rooster’s parking lot and Brody’d still like you.”
“Don’t give me any ideas,” I muttered.
“Thought you weren’t speakin’ to me.”
I clamped my mouth shut, tried once more to yank my hand from his, failed, gave up and continued fuming while Max chuckled thinking all this was hilarious.
So.
Annoying.
* * * * *
The Rooster was an enormous, beautiful building set high on the side of a mountain, a twisting, windy road leading to it. It’s inside lights ablaze, it had so many windows you could see through it.
I had, during the journey, managed to stay true to my vow and didn’t speak to Max. For his part, he proved a new way he could be annoying for this didn’t appear to bother him in the slightest. In fact, after five minutes of silence, he let my hand go and turned on his MP3 player, filling the cab with seventies rock music. Good seventies rock music and I noted irately that Max even had good taste in music something else I decided to find annoying.
I had, of course, taken this opportunity to pull my hand away.
The Gamble Page 27
