The McCallans

by Hadley Quinn

  Max sighed, gulped down the final ounces of his lukewarm tea, and applied his fingers to the keyboard again. He typed furiously, losing track of time and concern for anything else. Then he read what was left of Tate’s journal: how he met Kellie, and how there comes a moment in life where everything just clicks into place.

  It felt a bit intrusive reading these personal thoughts—how much Tate loved Kellie and how they had both enriched each others’ lives for the better, knowing that they complimented one another and just…fit. He confessed how devoted to her he was, and how completely connected they were; how he would fight to the death just to keep her happy and safe.

  Max set the papers aside and returned to the script, typing away again until a sound broke his cadence and slowed him down somewhat. He used the pause to read over his words—

  “Man, you are in a zone,” a voice cut into the silence.

  Max spun around in the computer chair, his heart jumping into his throat from being startled. Anna was standing in the doorway of the bedroom, seeming surprised that she’d scared him.

  Then she cringed. “I’m sorry, you paused like you heard me, so…”

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  She raised her eyebrows in a sassy manner and he instantly felt bad for being so abrupt. But you don’t just sneak up on someone like that; he wasn’t used to people invading his personal space so easily. He always had another person or two in between wherever he was.

  “Sorry, uh, you just… I didn’t hear you come in,” he said, rubbing the stiffness from the back of his neck.

  She pursed her lips together, seeming to study him for a second. Her eyebrows were creased together and she frowned, seeming concerned. “I knocked four different times. Then I came around to the back because I saw a light on back here. The sliding door was unlocked… Sorry, but I was worried. I thought for sure you would have heard me.”

  He silently cleared his throat, somewhat embarrassed, just as her eyes traveled to his laptop again.

  “What are you working on?” she asked.

  Max quickly pressed save and then shut his computer. “Nothing important.” Standing, he took a second to channel calmer emotions, pulling himself into a role he’d be able to navigate easier. “If you were hoping to catch me naked in the shower…you’re out of luck.”

  She smirked at him. “Am I now,” she stated, folding her arms across her chest.

  He slid Tate’s journal pages back into the folder they came in and stuck them in a drawer. He moved his laptop to the side, clearing a spot on the desk. Patting it, he said, “Well yes, but you might be just in time for desk sex.”

  He heard her snort under her breath, which was amusing. But he didn’t let it affect his performance. He merely cocked an eyebrow at her, keeping a steady, arrogant gaze on her. He knew he made her uncomfortable, as were most people around him, and he used it to his advantage.

  However, she surprised him by casually walking across the room to stop in front of him. “You really think you’re skilled enough to take me on the desk?” she asked.

  He maintained eye contact with her, meeting the witty challenge she was presenting him with. “Piece of cake,” he answered without missing a beat.

  “And I’ll actually get pleasure from it?” she asked with a short laugh. “Choose your words wisely, McCallan. I wouldn’t want you to risk making promises you can’t keep.”

  Good. God. What the hell? She wasn’t backing down, that’s for damn sure. It became a staring contest; who could maintain the upper hand the longest. Honestly, her eyes held power over him and that was uncomfortable. It wasn’t something he’d let her know, though.

  “If you doubt it’s possible, then I’m sincerely sorry you’ve never experienced it,” he answered, taking a step closer to her.

  Her lips parted just slightly as her eyes traveled upward to track his movement, never breaking eye contact. “That’s a bold assumption.”

  He leaned forward, finally severing their ocular connection, but only so he could place his lips against her neck and whisper, “Is it?”

  He could tell her body stiffened, but while he waited for a response, her scent occupied the pause, filling him with an urgency he really didn’t want to feel at that moment. That wasn’t supposed to be part of this little undertaking to keep her off balance.

  Moving past her for the door, he summoned his detached inner self and said, “Your stomach is growling, let’s go eat.”

  He heard her scoff behind him as he left the room, which was fine. She’d learn one way or another that you can’t top the king of performance.

  ***

  “Well this was…unexpected.” Anna seemed uneasy, sitting across from Max at a table for two at a fancy resort restaurant up on the hill.

  “How come?” he asked as he cut another piece of his steak. “I heard they have the best food here and my brother was right. This beats my favorite steakhouse in L.A.” He knew what she meant, though. They were both dressed in jeans, Anna with a sweatshirt and Max in a Henley. They definitely weren’t dressed to be sitting in a classy restaurant.

  “I would have at least put mascara on,” she replied sarcastically.

  Max looked up, a smile forming on his lips. She gave him a sassy look before taking a bite of her potato.

  “I would have worn my Vacheron Tour de L’ile,” he shrugged.

  She put her fork down and offered a dubious stare. “And what the hell is a Vash…whatever you just said.”

  “It’s a watch.”

  “A watch? And that’s equivalent to me wearing mascara to seem dressed up?”

  With a smile, he took another bite. After swallowing, Max shook his head and replied, “I doubt it.”

  “Oh, that sounds snobby and pretentious.”

  “It is. Very snobby and pretentious.”

  She forked a piece of broccoli. “I’ll take my ten dollar mascara over your ten thousand dollar watch any day.”

  He purposely snorted to imply she was way off.

  “Twenty?” she asked.

  Max took a sip of his water. “Try a million.”

  Anna coughed in disbelief. “What the hell do you do with a million dollar watch?” she hissed across the table.

  You auction it off for twice its value to fund better nursing homes, he thought to himself. But of course he didn’t tell her that. He’d rather she think he was a selfish asshole. “You wear it,” he answered. “There’s this thing called a band and you wrap it around your wrist—”

  “Shut up,” she waved her fork at him. “You can keep your useless, ostentatious possessions. Give me good health and simple pleasures, and I have a happy heart. I’m so glad I know nothing about Hollywood fashion.”

  He was glad she didn’t, either. But it also made him wonder how much longer he could fend off this sexual tension he was feeling. Whatever it was about her, she had him hooked and he didn’t like it.

  He ignored the urge to look at her right now and instead, continued to eat. It was true he wanted a good steak to eat and didn’t care where he got it, but the idea of being in public had his stress level through the roof. It was easy to use his influence to grant him a private table strictly for VIP guests at this resort. The manager had been extremely accommodating, kissed his ass just right, and made sure everything was to Max’s specifications.

  It was the lesser of the two evils, the other being just a regular sit-down guest who would eventually be recognized by fifty other restaurant patrons and approached by a few of them at some point. Having the privacy this way was the least risky.

  All he’d wanted was a fucking steak and this was what he had to put up with to make it happen. It was exhausting, sometimes downright irritating, and he still had to go through the grandiose of his exit, seeming just thrilled and excited to have pictures taken with staff as a courtesy.

  He genuinely liked people—that was never the problem—but it was the level of interaction he needed to get through that was always the game he di
dn’t like to play. And now that he’d been spotted and acknowledged by the public, his location up north would no longer be private.

  He could feel Anna studying him now and then as they finished their meal. He had to admit, she was straight up gorgeous. She was a natural beauty, just how he liked his women. She didn’t have to wear designer clothing or a made up face because she was perfect just the way she was. Snobby and pretentious wasn’t his type; that was his father’s type. Dating women in that prestigious circle had always been rule number one for his dad.

  He also rebuked himself for already forgetting the promise he’d made himself. After reading more of Tate’s journals, Max longed for the opportunity to be honest with someone for a change. But he couldn’t do it. He went into auto mode, acting like the spoiled brat he was raised to be. And his father’s influence, whether he was ready to rid himself of that or not, was still so far ingrained in him it was hard to relax and let his guard down with someone. Maybe Anna wasn’t a complete stranger anymore, but he continued to struggle with what he wanted in life in contrast to what he was trained to represent.

  Max didn’t say much as he paid his tab, left a generous tip for the private wait staff, and performed his customary photo op before they left. He made sure he mentioned he was “just passing through” so it would get passed on to the media if it went that far. He didn’t need for people to know he was staying in the area.

  His inclination to apologize to Anna for the inconvenience was kept to himself as they left. She could either deal with it or leave him the hell alone. And then he felt like shit for making himself think those things; things he’d learned from his dad over the past twenty-seven years.

  That battle of constantly sorting his words and actions with people was extremely tiresome.

  Chapter Eleven

  Anna remained quiet during the ride back from the restaurant. Max was driving his friend’s Jeep, and even though she enjoyed the classic rock on the radio, she didn’t like his otherwise somber mood. The guy was a schizophrenic mess. In the time she’d spent with him, she’d probably witnessed six different personalities exude from him.

  He dropped her off at the house she was staying at, and before she had barely thanked him for dinner, he was already heading back to Quentin’s like he couldn’t get rid of her fast enough. His spoiled, wealthy ass made it seem like she wasn’t good enough to be around him.

  It pissed her off, and quite frankly, made her even more upset that he could get under her skin. It was obvious he didn’t give a shit about her and considered himself above her. Why else would he bring up a million dollar watch? If not to sound rich, he at least wanted her to know he was on an entirely different level than she was.

  “Ugh, what a dick,” she groaned to herself as she stripped off her clothes to change into sweats. But as she curled up on the couch with a blanket, ready to watch a movie, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  It was his eyes. Sometimes she could look into them and other times she forced herself not to. He had beautiful eyes, vibrant sapphire blue, but on occasion he was saying one thing only it seemed like he was thinking another. And even though he acted like an ass, that too-good-for-other-people attitude he displayed so well often seemed…calculated. She’d caught on to his personality early on—he liked to confuse her, mix things up so she couldn’t get a closer look at who he really was—but he sure as hell did a good job at it. He made her feel like she was a simple girl—plain with no exceptional qualities—and the toughest truth to accept was that he was damn good at making her feel that way. She’d never cared what people thought of her. Being confident was something that came natural.

  And now one guy comes along and fucks it all up.

  Sighing, Anna pressed the remote to start the movie. This house was huge and even had a two-story movie theatre downstairs, but the thought of sitting in a forty-seat private home theatre on her own was daunting as well as depressing. She mainly stuck to the guest wing she was staying in, which had its own bedroom, bathroom, and little living room with a kitchenette. It also had a side door that led to the hot tub out back, so really, what more was needed? Her apartment in Ventura wasn’t much bigger than one-sixteenth of this monstrous house.

  Her phone buzzed with a text. Assuming it was her mom, she swiped the screen to read it, pausing at the unfamiliar number staring back at her. Then she read the message below it.

  If you sell my number I’ll have no choice but to frame you for murder. Other than that…ready for dessert?

  Realizing it was Max, she couldn’t help but smile. However, his cold indifference at dinner was still rubbing her the wrong way. Maybe it was because she’d turned down his offer for dessert at the restaurant? He didn’t do much except shrug and ask for the check when she declined, but after that, she felt like his mood turned even more detached. Possibly she’d hurt his feelings, but he didn’t appear to be the type to care if she chose dessert or not. It seemed more like he asked out of obligation, not because he wanted to spend more time with her.

  And now she had no idea how to respond. Was he tossing innuendos at her? Or was he really talking about food?

  Anna: What if I say no?

  She waited for a response, feeling nervous about how he’d react. It wasn’t like her to care, but since she sat there staring at the screen until he replied, she knew she did care.

  Max: Then you’ll have to tell me to my face since I’m on my way over

  Her heart started to thud heavier in her chest, and for some reason, she was glancing around the room in a panic—searching for another response, or her feelings, or an explanation for what was going on right now.

  Anna: Come around to the side door then. It’s unlocked.

  It wasn’t, but she hopped up to flip the deadbolt open. Sure enough, she saw him coming across the front of the house for the second driveway on her end and she quickly made a beeline for the couch again, throwing the blanket over her lap like it was going to make her feel more secure.

  Max lightly rapped on the door and then opened it, pausing as he peeked inside. When he noticed her on the couch, she motioned him in.

  “Living on the edge, huh?” he asked, shutting the door behind him. “You really shouldn’t leave the doors unlocked.”

  She only shrugged, then tried to discreetly look him over. He was wearing a different shirt than he’d had on during dinner, and damn, he looked ridiculously sexy standing there—no matter which personality he’d brought with him.

  He held up what was in his hand, a brown paper bag with a silhouette of the resort printed on the side. “I went back for dessert. I should have just grabbed it to go the first time but…”

  Pausing again, he waited for her answer. But Anna was sort of at a loss for words right now. Earlier he acted like he didn’t want to be around her, but now he was back with dessert?

  “I’m intrigued,” she replied, meaning more that he was right there in front of her rather than the food he’d actually brought.

  He entered the room further and set the bag on the coffee table, dropping onto the couch next to her. Pulling out a cardboard box, he flipped it open to reveal its contents.

  It was chocolate cake. And not just any chocolate cake, but it was the four-layer chocolate fudge cake from the menu she’d eyed before they’d even ordered dinner.

  Max stuck a plastic fork in the middle of it and handed it over. “It wants to be eaten.”

  She studied him for a second, noticing that particular gleam in his eye she was starting to get familiar with. Then the smirk appeared, and damn if that didn’t force her to bite back a smile. He arched that eyebrow too, causing her to shake her head.

  “You’re eyebrowing me,” she stated. “And why are you here? You couldn’t ditch me fast enough before.”

  The smile disappeared from his face instantly and he stood. “Then I’ll leave you alone.”

  She scoffed with frustration as he walked to the door. “Max.”

  He paused but didn�
�t turn around. Instead, she could see his shoulders drop as he exhaled.

  “I’d like you to stay,” she said. “I’m just pointing out the fact that you acted as if I was a pain in your ass earlier. I either am or I’m not, so which is it? I’m sick of being given the runaround.”

  Time ticked by for several seconds before he turned around. His focus was on the TV, but he answered, “You’re not a pain in the ass.” He’d spoken so quietly, she’d barely heard him. “I’m just not sure I should spend time with you.”

  Anna removed the blanket from her lap and stood, setting the cake on the coffee table. She carefully made her way across the room toward him. “You said you’re not sure if you ‘should’.” Pausing, she bit her lip in thought and took another step closer. She was right in front of him, inches from touching his body, and he finally looked at her face. “Does that also mean you don’t want to?”

  “No,” he replied instantly. “I just can’t make you any promises. It kind of seems like a waste of time on your part. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “So you not only pretend to be a pretentious asshole around me, but you’re also going to insult my intelligence even more?”

  He quickly took a step back, the scowl on his face apparent. “Insult your intelligence—?”

  But he stopped abruptly, studying her for several seconds. His eyes turned sad, regretful in a way, and it instantly made her heart sink. She’d wanted to stand her ground, not make him feel bad.

  “Yeah, maybe I do question your intelligence,” he acknowledged. “Your sanity, at least. You can’t possibly prefer being around a guy like me unless it’s for one reason, and if that were the case, I wouldn’t be here. So yes, maybe I do wonder what the hell is wrong with you.”

  She chose not to take offense to that last comment. “What reason is that?” she asked, honestly desiring to know. She had an idea, but wanted to hear him say it. “What reason do most people use to be around you? Because if it has to do with your celebrity status, that actually works against you when it comes to my preferences. I’ve been around all of that and it’s not a perk.”