The Gamble

by Kristen Ashley

  He didn’t get off. He slanted his head and kissed me. I tried to turn my head away but both his hands framed my face and kept me stationary. This didn’t work so well for him, since I kept my mouth closed.

  Max lifted his head and demanded, “Stop bein’ pissed, Duchess, and open your mouth for me.”

  I glared at him. He grinned.

  Then all of a sudden the grin died and his eyes moved over my face as his thumb stroked my cheekbone.

  After he did this for awhile, he muttered his confession, “I was a dick.”

  I pulled in breath, shocked not only that he admitted it but that he understood he was being one.

  “Shit comes up with Curt, history, for me, for Bitsy,” Max went on and my body tensed under his for I knew some of the history and guessed the rest and wondered if now he was going to talk about it. “Normally, I can let it go. Today it was in my face and I didn’t handle it very well.”

  I waited for him to say more and for awhile he didn’t, he just kept looking into my eyes. Then he did.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve had someone I gave a shit enough about to share anything with and I’m out of practice.”

  This was something, a hint, and I waited for more. This time, I didn’t get it.

  Instead, his thumb drifted over my bottom lip while his eyes watched it then he dipped his head and touched his mouth to mine before lifting his head again.

  His hand cupping my jaw, he whispered, “I fucked up, baby.”

  I closed my eyes and turned my head away, disappointed, no, beyond disappointed.

  But at least he could admit when he was wrong. That was something.

  I opened my eyes, looked at him and gave in. “Don’t worry about it, Max. It’s been…” I searched for a word and settled on, “crazy.”

  He touched his lips to mine again before he pulled slightly away.

  “Promise me you won’t sit in another man’s lap.” His voice was gentle but serious and I nodded.

  “I think I got that.”

  “And don’t call anyone ‘darling’. That’s mine.”

  I swallowed, liking that he’d claimed that, and nodded again.

  His forehead came to mine and he whispered, “Love it when you call me that in your accent, honey.”

  My body relaxed under his and my hands went to his waist but I reminded him, “I don’t have an accent.”

  I watched from close as he grinned.

  “Now, Duchess, what exactly is a lawyer desk?”

  I couldn’t help it, I grinned back. “Can I tell you while I make us something for dinner?”

  Max lifted his head. “Yeah, dinner would be good. Then we’re gonna celebrate.”

  “No, then we’re going to finish my movie.”

  “Babe, that movie’s shit.”

  “I know but I was kind of into it.”

  He grinned again then his eyes dropped to my mouth. “I want a kiss first.”

  My body relaxed even more under him and I whispered, “Okay.”

  “I want your mouth open this time.”

  I felt a shiver on my skin (and elsewhere) as I repeated, “Okay.”

  “Give it to me, baby.”

  I lifted my head and put my mouth to his and repeated yet again, “Okay.”

  Then I opened my mouth and kissed him.

  * * * * *

  We were in the kitchen, the water was at the boil and I had the cookie sheet out as well as all the fixings for dinner.

  Max had asked me what I wanted to drink, I’d requested a glass of wine from the bottle he opened last night (the Chardonnay this time) and he’d poured it for me.

  Now he was standing hips against the sink, drinking beer and watching me. I opened the packet of hot dogs and he burst out laughing.

  My eyes went to him. “What?”

  His head dipped to the counter. “This duchess food?”

  “What?” I repeated and he walked up to me, putting his beer on the counter and picking up the tube of biscuits.

  “Mac and cheese and pigs in a blanket with white fuckin’ wine,” he stated through his smile. “Is this duchess food?”

  “No, it’s Nina’s Home in America Food. They don’t have macaroni and cheese in a box and biscuits in a tube in England and when I’m home I eat the food I like that I don’t get in England.” He kept smiling at me as he pulled the wrapper off the tube then rapped it on the edge of the counter so it gave a soft “poof” as it exploded open. “Max!” I cried. “You stole the fun part!”

  His hand snaked out, caught me behind my neck, yanked me to him so he could kiss the top of my head then he let me go muttering, “Sorry, honey,” and twisted the tube open.

  I pulled out some hot dogs thinking that my telling him I was moving to Colorado wasn’t exactly a special moment between us. I was also thinking that I had the Max I knew back after the Max I didn’t know and who kind of scared me was around for the afternoon and I didn’t want to go back to the other Max. I was also thinking I really wanted to know what was in Curtis Dodd’s letters and I was thinking it was Curtis Dodd’s letters that brought out the other Max.

  But I really wanted to know what was in those letters.

  “What was in Curtis’s letters?” I blurted then tensed.

  Max took a hot dog from me and started to wrap a biscuit around it.

  “Bitsy’s letter, a bunch of shit about Shauna, more shit about how he loved Bitsy and only Bitsy even though he was nailin’ Shauna and the fact that he’d received death threats,” Max answered, not sounding angry, not looking broody, just being Max.

  “And yours?” I prompted, wrapping a biscuit around a hot dog.

  “A bunch of shit about how I needed to take care of Bitsy and take care of the business for Bitsy and how Bitsy had death threats too and, seein’ as I was readin’ his damned letter, how I needed to take care of that and what he was doin’ about it with the PI and how I couldn’t tell Bitsy her life was under threat.” He put the biscuit-coated hot dog on the tray and reached for another one. “Oh, and more shit about how he loved only Bitsy when he was fuckin’ Shauna.”

  I tried to keep the tone light. “That’s a lot, was your letter ten pages long?”

  Max’s eyes came to me. “Curt had a natural talent with bein’ able to be a serious fuckin’ pain in the ass in twenty words or less, so no.”

  I smiled at him, put my hot dog down on the tray and started another one, asking, “So, he knew someone wanted to kill him.”

  “Apparently, yeah.”

  “Why didn’t he go to the police?”

  “Question for the ages, babe, why did Curt do most of the shit he did?”

  I had no answer for that.

  “Does Bitsy know she’s under threat?” I went on.

  “Mick and I talked, we thought she should know, we told her.”

  “Oh dear,” I muttered, thinking that probably wasn’t very fun at all.

  “Yeah, she didn’t know whether to be freaked or pissed.”

  I looked from my hot dog to Max. “Which did she settle on?”

  Max grinned at me and answered, “Pissed.”

  I stopped wrapping hot dogs with gooey biscuit dough and leaned into Max. “Is she really going to be safe?”

  Max stopped putting blankets on the pigs and held my eyes. “Yeah, she’d be here or we’d be there if I didn’t trust Mick. He’s got a man watchin’ her house. Burt, who drives her everywhere she needs to go when she isn’t with family or friends, has been told. Her folks and sister have been told. I talked to him and her brother-in-law is spendin’ the night tonight. They got a huge security system in that house, never use it, but Bitsy’s promised to keep it active when she’s in or out of the house.”

  I was beginning to realize why the moody Max was in attendance that afternoon as I turned back to the hot dogs. “That makes me feel a little better.”

  “I’ll feel better when they catch this fuck,” Max muttered.

  “Me too,” I agre
ed and then I caught sight of his hot dogs and informed him, “Max, you don’t put two biscuits on the hot dog, only one.”

  “One don’t cover it, Duchess,” Max informed me and I looked at him.

  “Yes, well, this is true, but I don’t have two hundred pounds of pure muscle to fuel. I have a behind that likes biscuits and asks them to stay awhile in the form of fat. Ergo, only one biscuit.”

  He grinned at me and proclaimed, “You got a great ass, babe.”

  “I’ve got a fat ass, Max.”

  Without warning, both his hands were on my ass and the front of my body was plastered to the front of his. Surprised at my new position and the swiftness I was in it, I put my hands on his chest and tilted my head back.

  He wasn’t grinning anymore when he repeated, “You’ve got a great ass, Nina.”

  “Max –”

  “You aren’t fat.”

  “Max –”

  “Your whole body is fuckin’ beautiful.”

  My heart skipped a beat and my stomach melted as did my body and it did this into him and I said again, “Max –”

  “Not a big fan of my woman running herself down, not even doin’ it as a joke. You got an unbelievably pretty face, fantastic fuckin’ eyes and a spectacular body.”

  “Max, I –”

  His hands squeezed my bottom and he interrupted me. “And I hear you say different again, Duchess, I’m not gonna like it.”

  I studied him and realized he was perfectly serious, about all of it, and I had no idea whatsoever how to respond to that.

  “Yeah?” he prompted when I seemed unable to form words because I was too busy being moved by all he’d said and the fact that he meant it.

  Then for some stupid, insane, irrational reason, five stupid, insane and irrational words came out of my mouth. “Why do you like me?”

  His hands slid from my behind to the small of my back as his head tilted to the side and he asked, “What?”

  “Why do you like me?” I threw out a hand and continued. “Why are you so sure about all of this?”

  His grin came back and he stated, “It ain’t because you know how I like my coffee.”

  My stomach melted to non-existence at him imparting the knowledge that he remembered what I said that morning and my hands slid up to his neck.

  “You take your coffee black, Max, that isn’t hard to remember,” I told him and my hands gave his neck a squeeze. “And it also isn’t answering my question.”

  “Think I just mentioned your pretty face, your beautiful eyes and your spectacular body,” he reminded me.

  “That’s it?”

  His eyes roamed the area of my head before they came to mine and he added, “You got great hair.”

  “Max.”

  He held my gaze for a long moment then his brows drew together and he asked, “You’re serious?”

  I leaned back a bit in his arms and answered, “Of course.”

  He watched me another moment then muttered in disbelief, “Fuck.”

  “Fuck what?”

  “You can’t be serious,” he told me.

  “I am,” I replied.

  “Babe,” he said.

  And that was it. I waited for more but apparently that really was it.

  “That’s it? Babe?”

  “Nina, for Christ’s sake.” Now he sounded impatient and I started to get scared.

  I drew back further but his arms got tighter.

  “Max, I asked you a question,” I prompted, the fear becoming full-fledged as the impatience hit his features.

  “Think you were there when you got in my face about rentin’ this house,” he told me.

  “Yes, but –”

  “And stomped on your high-heeled boots in your cute little tantrum when you walked out that first night and took me on again outside in a fuckin’ snowstorm.”

  My tantrum wasn’t cute. It wasn’t even a tantrum. I was angry.

  I let that slide and started, “Of course, but –”

  “And you’re a zombie in the mornin’ and it’s fuckin’ adorable.”

  The fear started sliding away and I started melting back into him.

  “Max –”

  “You were also there when you told me you loved my house. And when you told me beer was invented in Germany. And when you told Cotton how his pictures made you feel. And, if I remember, you were there when you looked at the bluff like you’d stepped into heaven. And when you went on about some television character’s lipstick. And you were also there when you took on Damon for Mindy. And when you practically threw Mindy in Jeff’s arms. And when you threw down with Kami and Shauna, both in one night. And you were definitely there when you saved Mindy’s life yesterday and you were also fuckin’ there when you did what you did for Mindy today.”

  I couldn’t believe he remembered all that. Heck, until then, I hadn’t remembered all that. Some of it but not all of it and some of it I was trying to forget because it hadn’t been all that fun.

  “Max –”

  “The people in this town are friendly enough with outsiders, Duchess, but only as much as they gotta be. They’re friendly with you because they like you and they like you because, like me, they see all that, that’s a fuckuva lot to like and they know that’s just scratchin’ the surface.”

  I couldn’t take anymore, I wanted to, but I couldn’t.

  “Stop talking now,” I whispered because if he didn’t I’d start crying.

  “You asked.”

  “Okay, I did, but you need to stop talking now.”

  “Baby –”

  I looked down at the cookie sheet. “And don’t be nice anymore, I prefer you annoying.”

  His body started shaking with laughter and he called, “Nina, darlin’, look at me.”

  I kept my face averted. “No, I need to put the pasta in the water.”

  “Honey –”

  I pushed against his shoulders. “Let me go, Max.”

  I felt his face in my neck. “You’re demonstrating another reason I like you right now when you act crazy and cute.”

  Only Holden Maxwell would think my neurotic crazy was cute.

  I kept pushing his shoulders and demanded, “Stop it, Max.”

  His hand slid up my spine, his fingers sifted in my hair and his lips went to my ear. “All that, and there’s a lot of it, Duchess, I can hold in my arms. You wanna know why I’m so sure, that’s why.”

  I choked back my tears and this made a girlie noise so I shoved my face in his chest.

  He held my face there with his hand in my hair and he held me close with his arm around my waist. I held back the tears and I did this by deep breathing loudly.

  Once I succeeded, Max kissed the top of my head again and offered, “I’ll put the macaroni on.”

  Then he let me go and I turned back to the biscuits and hot dogs instead of downing the entire glass of wine which was what I wanted to do or, better, move back into Max’s arms.

  * * * * *

  We’d sat at the stools to eat the macaroni and cheese and pigs in a blanket.

  We took our slices of cake up to the loft and ate them in bed while watching the horror movie.

  The dirty plates were on the nightstand, I had my wineglass in my hand. The pillows were piled up and I was in the curve of Max’s body as well as his arm.

  I was thinking that horror movies were a bit less scary watching them curled into Max, though not that less scary.

  We were coming onto the climax and I was thinking we were in the homestretch. The heroine had to survive, of course, or how could there be a sequel? She was the only one left of the original crew, someone had to survive.

  Though it wasn’t looking good for her.

  She ran into the deserted, broken down cabin which was a mistake, seeing as the psychopath used to live there before he hacked his whole family up with an axe and that was his favorite haunt.

  She turned a corner into a room and there he was, him and his axe and he was ready to str
ike.

  So he did.

  At the same time, Max’s phone rang.

  I jumped half a foot up from the bed and emitted a little terrified scream, nearly sloshing my wine on the bed.

  Max started laughing.

  Then he hit the pause on the remote and leaned into me, grabbing the phone from his nightstand and beeping it on.

  Up on my elbow, I took a calming sip of wine and twisted my head to look at him as he said into the phone, “Yeah?” My eyes caught his and he said, “Yeah, sure, she’s here.” Then he offered the phone to me.

  I felt my eyebrows go up.

  “Me?” I asked.

  “Arlene,” he answered.

  “What?” I asked.

  He shook the phone at me. I sat up and took it.

  “Hello?” I said into it when I put it to my ear.

  “Where are you?” Arlene queried.

  “Um… watching a movie with Max.”

  “Watching a movie with Max?” Arlene asked as if I said I was strapping in to take a joyride with Evel Knievel.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “You’re supposed to be at The Dog with me getting wasted.”

  Oh dear. I forgot about that.

  “Oh, Arlene, I’m so sorry, I… the day kinda got away from me.”

  “Yeah, I heard, two blond English guys are at the hotel bein’ snooty and actin’ like their shit don’t stink. Two blond English guys, word on the street says you, your Ma and Max faced off with this mornin’. That makes Damon, Kami, Shauna and two snooty, blond English guys. Girl, what is it with you?”

  “Um…” I answered for there was no answer to give, I didn’t know what it was with me.

  “You fight with two English guys then throw a fit on the sidewalk outside The Mark in the mornin’, come night, you get blotto at The Dog.”

  Wow, the people in Gnaw Bone didn’t mess around with gossip.

  “Is that a rule?” I asked.

  “Yeah, it’s a rule,” Arlene answered.

  “I thought it would be better to give myself a facial and relax in front of a movie,” I told her.

  “You thought wrong,” she replied then demanded, “Give the phone to Max.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Phone… to… Max,” she repeated.

  “Okay,” I agreed, happy to give the unhappy Arlene to Max, I held the phone to him and said, “She wants to talk to you.”