The McCallans

by Hadley Quinn

  “Will you tell me why? –Why you treated me that way?” she barely whispered.

  He automatically declined within his own head, but then he felt her hands against his bare sides, like she was tentative to touch him, but once she felt his skin, she gripped him a bit tighter. He leaned his head against the wood frame beside her head and closed his eyes. It was dark anyway, but it was more so he could focus on allowing himself to be unfiltered with her. His heartbeat became stronger and more intense.

  “Because I don’t let people get close to me,” he replied honestly. “It’s a defense mechanism. Nine-and-a-half times out of ten, it’s necessary.”

  Her hands came around him further, encouraging him to step closer. He did, which brought his shoulder to her forehead and she pressed her face against him, her head cradled against his neck and her warm breath against his skin. He breathed her in, that sweet scent that was so tantalizing…

  “I think that should change,” she told him. “I think you can let down your guard with me a little bit, Max. I would never hurt you intentionally. I think you should give it a try.”

  He removed his forehead from the doorframe and she pulled her head back so they were face to face. This close, he could see her eyes looking up at him. Her lips looked ready to be kissed, but she was wrong if she expected him to make her any promises right now. He wasn’t willing to give away that power again; not to a female he barely knew.

  He leaned down and kissed her, cautious and gentle at first, but then deeper and dutiful, taking his time. She held him tighter and kissed him back, sliding her sweet tongue into his mouth to persuade him for more. He wanted to feel her body, to run his hands along her curves and get to the soft skin he knew she owned so well. But she wasn’t giving him that signal right now; she seemed hesitant and wasn’t responding how he expected.

  So he kissed her even more, sliding his hand behind her neck to slip his fingers into her hair, forcing her to heed his control. She responded with a soft moan, so Max placed his other on her hip, gripping it tightly to let her know how much he wanted her. He pressed his cock into her, firm and desiring attention, and her body arched into him in response.

  Max stepped a bit to the side of her so he had a better angle, and slid his fingers along the waistband of her sweats. He smiled, remembering how fucking sexy she looked earlier, her taut little body all comfortable and casual. She could probably wear any damn thing she wanted and look appealing.

  He maneuvered his hand smoothly into her pants, taking his time to run his fingers over her panties. They felt like satin…with lace trim…and he trekked further down until he was between her legs. They were still kissing, but Max trailed his lips across her cheek and stopped before her ear.

  “You feel amazing, Anna. Can you feel how wet you are?” He continued to rub gentle circles through her panties, over her clit and lower, and then back up. Her breathing was a bit ragged at this point, and he could feel her nails digging into his skin.

  “You should probably stop,” she whispered suddenly.

  He did, instantly. He didn’t remove his hand but asked, “What’s the matter?”

  She pressed her hands against his chest, lightly pushing him back a step, causing his hand to be removed from her pants as well. “I was serious, Max. When I said you should let down your guard a bit?”

  Confused, he cleared his throat to regain his composure. “That’s what I’m doing, Anna.”

  “No, you’re just going with what your body is telling you right now. I am too, but I mean you can do better than just being physical with me.”

  He paused to gain understanding. “I told you last night, I can’t make any promises—”

  “Well I think you can,” she cut in. “I think you can and you should. And I’m better than this. I don’t do one night stands, okay? You told me your side, so it’s only fair that I tell you mine. I’m better than a one night stand, and so are you.”

  No I’m not, he wanted to argue. But he’d honestly never had anyone tell him that before. He imagined her cute little eyebrows all frustrated and mad at him in the dark, but in reality, she didn’t sound upset. And when he leaned his forearm against the doorframe beside her, she wrapped her arms around his waist again. So much for going hot and heavy within a matter of minutes. With as wet as she’d felt, he couldn’t believe she had the willpower to stop him.

  “Did you know I was turned on just giving you a massage earlier?” she whispered.

  “So that’s what we need to do here?” he replied, taking a step back while lifting his hands in surrender. “I’m all yours. You can molest me until the sun comes up.”

  She lightly laughed. “No, that’s not what I meant. I can feel the disappointment radiating off of you so much it’s almost tangible. Don’t act like I don’t want you, Max, because I certainly do. I didn’t come here to turn you on and walk away.”

  “Then why are you?”

  She sighed. “I’m not telling you no, I’m just telling you where I stand. Sounds like that’s just a little too much for you to get past,” she stated softly. He didn’t respond. “Okay, question answered.”

  “You didn’t actually ask me a question. You said it like you already made up your mind about me.”

  “I haven’t made up anything about you, that’s the point. I’m here because I want to be, but earlier you basically told me that I was only good enough to screw and cut loose.”

  “That’s not true at all,” he argued, now feeling a bit perturbed. “I never said that.”

  “You made sure you told me you couldn’t make any promises, and that’s pretty much telling me you’re gonna hump-and-dump. But I could tell you wanted to make an exception. That’s why I’m here. I’m giving you that opportunity. And I don’t care if that sounds conceited or not, but you warning me and then feeling bad for admitting it out loud…” She sighed. “Max, you took the time to be honest with me for one little second because you care. If that’s not a possibility for more, then I don’t know what is.”

  “It’s called covering my own ass,” he answered automatically, pulling up that wall as fast as he’d let it down. “It’s called ‘be nice and don’t make her think I’m a total prick when things blow up in her face and I move on to someone else’.”

  “Oh, is that what it is?” she laughed sarcastically. “Or is it called ‘I’m too scared to be myself around someone that I actually like because I don’t want her to hurt me’?”

  He turned and took two steps away, trying not to let that truthful strike knock him down. “You really are full of yourself.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yep. But go ahead and think what you want. You can either take your clothes off and get in my bed, or get the fuck out and leave me alone. Your choice, sweetheart. The best sex you’ve ever had, or your vibrator when you get back to your room.”

  She didn’t even hesitate and stormed out the door.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The house had turned dismal, just like the weather outside. And it felt smaller than it ever had. Was that possible? Was the size of the home finally getting to him, or were the walls metaphorically closing in on him?

  Max stepped outside into the rain, allowing the cold to coat his skin and the rain to layer it with moisture. Anna had left two days ago and neither of them had even sent a text to the other. He assumed she was driving back to L.A. since she had her own car, but he truly wanted to make sure she got home safely. He couldn’t take back anything he’d said, and the constant nagging between his shoulder blades reminded him of the stress that was eating away at him.

  He sent Kate a text as he re-entered the house. He’d spend the entire day editing his script, but he was eager to set up some time to spend with Chase when he returned. If he didn’t love his son so much, he’d have no need to face anything back in California. At this point, he was ready to email his script to Christopher and stay up north permanently. The more time he spent thinking about his life and the circumstances in it, the m
ore time he thought about Teague and the hell his brother must have gone through a couple of years ago.

  Again, there was nothing he could do to change the past. Max had started to mend things with his brother, but he wasn’t sure if it’d be enough. It felt fucking horrible to realize you barely have people in your life you could trust. He had Kellie and Tate, and he truly believed his brother would always do the right thing no matter what, but what Max feared was that giving him another chance might not be the right thing for Teague to do.

  Maybe he deserved to be estranged from his brother. Permanently.

  His phone signaled him with a text, and assuming it was Kate, he went to read whatever bullshit excuse she was going to give him. But to his surprise, it wasn’t her.

  Teague: How are you doing?

  Interesting timing. Maybe it was a sign, as stupid as it seemed.

  Max: I don’t know. I was doing fine but not so much anymore.

  Teague: What changed?

  Max: I got my screenplay done.

  Teague: … And?

  Max: Sent it to Mr. Nolan

  Teague: I’m going to fucking choke you if you don’t answer me. What’s WRONG?

  Max: I fucked things up with Anna

  Teague didn’t text back for several minutes, and Max groaned to himself, hoping to God that his brother wasn’t calling her to find out what happened.

  Teague: I’m sorry to hear that. She’s a good person though. I’m sure she’ll understand. And I’m in the dark, didn’t know you two had a thing. That worries me. Don’t mess with her heart, okay? She’s a good girl and deserves to be respected as such.

  Max shook his head, knowing full well he was a fucking asshole and it was his own fault for pushing her away. So he panicked, big deal. Who wouldn’t? He wasn’t used to actually having a romantic friendship with a female, not since Olivia. He didn’t want to date women and didn’t want to get to know them. The last thing he needed was to like someone enough to put him back where he was five years ago. He especially didn’t want them to know him, either.

  Teague: Max? I’m serious. Don’t fuck her over.

  Max: I didn’t. Well I didn’t mean to. It’s a long story, okay? I’ll talk to you about it when I get back.

  Teague: Which is when?

  Max took a deep breath and counted to three as he let it out. He’d planned on leaving as soon as he finished the script, but after things with Anna, he decided to stick around for a few more days. He had more editing anyway, but truthfully, he needed extra time to regroup and lick his wounds.

  Max: I’ll be back on Saturday

  Teague: Okay then I’ll see you in a couple days

  He groaned to himself, but what did he expect? He wanted to fix things with his brother, and now he’d only dug himself in a deeper hole because of Anna.

  He was never going to win Teague’s approval after this one.

  ***

  As he flew into southern California on Saturday morning, Max felt a layer of dread collect in his stomach. Most of his calls had been forwarded to Jillian, who was constantly texting him messages he never replied to. She knew he was out of town and his only instruction had been to text him anything important, but he never expected how good it would feel to ignore her.

  He’d been avoiding his father’s calls, which was only one of three numbers Jillian had allowed through to his personal line. That resulted in a dozen voicemails that had piled up. And as daunting as his first face-to-face conversation with his father was going to be, it was Anna he thought about the most. He actually cared more about earning her forgiveness than he did about smoothing issues over with his dad.

  But it was just like his father to know exactly when he made it back to L.A., and Max hadn’t been home for even an hour when Craig came looking for him. Max was sitting out back on his patio, his feet up on another chair. He’d read through a few emails from the screenwriter he’d asked to advise him and he was now considering Mr. Nolan’s words.

  “Seriously? This is where I find you?” Craig scoffed as he stopped in front of Max, his shadow lurking over him. “What the fuck is going on?”

  “Hello to you too, Dad,” Max answered as he reached to the table to shut his laptop.

  “Don’t give me a smartass reply like that.” Craig grabbed a chair from the table and slammed it into place before he sat. He called for Gretchen and ordered her to bring him a drink. Leaning back in his seat, he crossed his legs and gave Max that familiar look he always delivered; the one that demanded he get answers and get them now.

  “I told you I needed some time away.” Max took a drink of his Perrier and then examined the bottle for a moment as a distraction. “Why is that such a big deal? You go away all the damn time without letting me know your every move.”

  “I report to my father just as you should,” he retorted. “The three of us are business partners for one, but you are my son and should give me that respect. When I ask where you are, you’d better damn well tell me. And when I send you business inquiries, you sure as hell better answer me.”

  Max sighed. “I gave you an answer. Just because it’s not the answer you wanted, doesn’t mean I failed to respond.”

  He knew that would earn a murderous glare, but Gretchen arrived with Craig’s posh bourbon, setting it on the table within his reach. It was somewhat comical—or sad, really—that Gretchen’s job was more for his father’s use than his own.

  “Anything else, Mr. McCallan?” she asked him.

  “No,” he growled, motioning her away.

  She immediately turned for the house, and Max felt his conscience conjure up a few words for his dad. But after taking a longer-than-usual drink of his bourbon, Craig slammed it on the table between them.

  “Whatever is going on with you, I want you to talk to me about it. Do I need to call Roger? Does Marv need to get involved?

  Max nearly rolled his eyes. Marvin Wagner was his father’s go-to man when issues needed to be taken care of “discreetly.” He was sort of the Cole of the dark side.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not in trouble, I don’t need a story fixed up, no one needs handled, and there’s no need for you to worry.”

  “You do not tell me not to worry,” his father pointed at him. “It’s my job to worry. But good God, Max… What the fuck is going on with you? You don’t want to do the movie, fine. But something else is going on so just tell me what the hell it is.”

  He couldn’t tell his father because the second Craig knew he’d written a screenplay with the plan to produce it, he’d stick his nose right in his business. Max had taken extra measures to go through people he knew his father couldn’t reach, but it didn’t mean Craig wouldn’t try.

  “I told you I wanted a break from the industry,” Max said, using already practiced words; words that were scripted and had been used before. “I’m sorry you can’t accept my decision, but I’m burnt out. I need a break. I don’t feel like I have any passion for acting right now—”

  “I’ve heard this shit before,” Craig waved a hand at him. “You can give me all the speeches you want but I’m not backing down until I get a real answer. You cannot bullshit me, Max.”

  “I’m not trying to. It’s the honest-to-God truth. I am not interested in taking on any roles right now.”

  “Fine, I get it. So what does that have to do with my movie? I asked you to not only produce it on your own, but to direct it. I know that interests you, so don’t even sit there and argue that it doesn’t.”

  “I already told you flat out that I’m interested in directing, but I don’t want that script, Dad. It’s not a movie I want to produce, nor do I want to direct it. It’s shit.”

  “Shit? A work by Howard Northfield?”

  “I don’t care who it was written by; it’s an over-fluffed, overdramatized, superficial pile of shit. It’s basically a compilation of three different movies I could name right off the top of my head. I do not want my name representing something like that. It is
not what I’m interested in. I don’t even care who you’ve got lined up for the cast.”

  Craig replied with a pompous laugh. “Maybe you should know the facts before stating garbage like that.”

  “Really? You don’t think I already know who you’ve got? Nina, Brad, Seth, Vivian? Do those ring a bell?” His father narrowed his eyes at him. “I know who you’ve already solicited and signed for an all-star cast. No doubt it’s going to be a huge publicity windfall.”

  “And what the hell is wrong with that? Why do you think our studio has the highest net worth in the industry? It’s called respect.”

  “I don’t care how much you make, Dad.” Max shook his head with disappointment, but also braced himself for a repetitious lecture.

  “You should. It represents quite a significant accomplishment. Why do you think Nina and Seth want this movie? There’s a certain notoriety that comes with our name. I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation with you right now.” Craig scrubbed a hand over his face and then stared at his son for a second. “And look at you. You look like shit. Like you haven’t showered for days. What the hell is this?” he asked, motioning to his own chin in reference to Max’s face. “You forget how to shave?”

  “No, I did not forget how to shave. And yes, I showered when I got home an hour ago.”

  Silence commenced as Craig stared vaguely across the pool. Finally he turned his attention to Max again and slowly shook his head. “You told your assistant to take a couple of weeks off? I don’t understand what’s going on.”

  “You don’t need to. My every decision does not need to be initiated by you. I have other things I want to do right now. I’m not saying I’m done with screen time for good, but for now…I want to pursue other things.”

  Craig placed his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Like what?” he asked through clenched teeth. Max didn’t respond. “You’ve been talking to your brother lately?” he added, as if he’d already come to that conclusion. When Max still didn’t respond, his father stood, pointing a finger at him. “I don’t give a fuck what Teague does with his life right now, but you… You have more at stake. You have more to lose!”