by Addison Cole
“That’s funny, because I never want to forget a second of it.”
Chapter Eight
TREAT’S CELL PHONE rang at eight o’clock the next morning. He fumbled with it and answered without looking at the number. “Hello?”
“Since when do you leave your little sister at a party?”
Savannah. She was trying to sound annoyed, but Treat knew her better than that. She was really fishing for information. “Hugh was there to drive you home.”
“Hugh? He was too busy with Supernova to even think about me. Lucky for you, Connor’s driver was free.”
“I’m sorry, but you dragged me there hoping I’d get together with Max, remember? Listen, Vanny, I just went to sleep a few hours ago. Can I call you later?” He hadn’t liked the idea of Max arriving home late at night alone, so after taking her to get her car, he’d followed her home and walked her to her door. She’d still been embarrassed by their putting on the brakes, but it only endeared her to him even more. She was more real than any woman he’d ever met, and for a man who had been chased by gold-digging women forever, he loved how different Max was.
“A few hours ago? Should I assume you two hit it off? I saw you guys leave, looking at each other like you couldn’t wait to eat each other alive.”
“Nice talk from my baby sister,” Treat said with a smile. He draped his arm over his eyes and sighed. “I gotta go, Vanny. Love you.” As always, he waited for her to say goodbye. No matter what mood he was in, he never hung up on his siblings. His mother’s death had been a painful lesson about not taking his loved ones for granted. He never knew just when he’d see or talk to them for the last time.
His bedroom door swung open and Rex stepped in. “Hey. You gonna get up and help Dad today or what?”
“What the…?” Had he made a promise he’d forgotten?
“Just sayin’.” Rex left the door open, his obnoxious way of telling him, If I’m not resting, neither are you.
Treat pulled his exhausted body from bed and trudged into the bathroom. He leaned over the sink and took a good, hard look at himself in the mirror. His looks had served him well over the years, and he appreciated the genes he’d been blessed with. He also acknowledged the fact that he’d abused that gift for a very long time, enjoying the comfort of women’s arms based on nothing more than physical attraction. But all that had changed when, after weeks of talking on the phone with Max while she was coordinating the wedding, wondering what the sweet, professional woman on the other end of the line looked like, he’d finally met her. He’d been an idiot to think he could ever forget her.
He turned on the shower, stripped down, and stepped under the warm spray, letting it rain down on his shoulders. He could still feel Max trembling in his arms, and he wondered what the jerk she’d gone out with had done to her to have such lingering effects. As he washed up, he had a fleeting thought about the look that had come between them in Nassau and wondered if that had added to her discomfort last night. Even though she’d said it didn’t, he wanted to be sure. He wasn’t a kid anymore. He knew better than to do things that might hurt a person’s feelings. He was going to have to prove to her that his momentary digression was just that, and not who he was at his core.
Even though they’d reconnected and appeared to be on the same page and being with Max felt righter than anything ever had, he shouldn’t have let things go so far last night. He always led with his mind, not his emotions. It figured that the one time he got it wrong was the one time that it mattered.
He dried himself off and looked down at his groin. Troublemaker.
From that moment forward, he was going to do everything he could to make Max realize she could trust him to keep her safe.
TREAT FOUND REX at the stables, looking over Hope, the horse his father had bought for his mother when she’d first found out she was sick.
“The prince wakes,” Rex teased. He pushed his Stetson down low, accentuating the sharp angles of his jaw and Grecian nose.
“Good morning to you, too.” Treat ran his hand along Hope’s back. She neighed, nuzzling her nose into Rex’s chest. Her red coat had faded in recent years, and patches of white had begun to sprout. “How is the old girl?”
“She’s holding up okay,” his father said.
Treat hadn’t seen his father bending down by a bucket in the stall.
“I’m keeping an eye on her. She’s got plenty of good years left. I never like our animals to suffer, and Hope here…” His father didn’t have to finish the sentence—was your mother’s.
Treat and Rex exchanged a sorrowful glance.
“You’ve done well by her, Dad. Mom would be proud.” Treat laid a hand on his father’s shoulder.
“I know she is,” his father said. His father swore he still felt their mother’s presence around the ranch, and though Treat had never felt her—not for a lack of trying—he believed his father did.
He remembered sitting in his room as a child after she’d passed away, night after night, praying he’d feel whatever his father had felt, hoping against all hope and making promises with whatever almighty powers would listen. I’ll be good. I’ll never fight with my brothers again. I’ll help Dad more. I’ll do whatever you want, just please, please let me feel Mom one more time. His prayers had gone unanswered, and now, as he thought of how painful those early years without his mother had been—and how much he missed Max after just a few hours—he was beginning to better understand the depth of his father’s devastation.
“Dad, would you mind telling me about when you and Mom met?” Treat watched his father’s eyes light up, and he caught that light and held on to it.
“Here we go,” Rex said. “I’m gonna take Johnny Boy out for a quick ride while you two relive the good old days.” He headed for Johnny Boy’s stall.
Rex always escaped when they talked about their mother. Selfishly, Treat was glad to have his father to himself. If anyone understood matters of the heart, it was his father. He never hid his feelings for his children, or his late wife, which kept their family close.
“Your mother was so beautiful, sitting on her daddy’s fence watching the horses when my father and I drove up. I swear, Treat, when she turned and looked at me, something inside me fell into place. Even at fourteen, I knew she was the woman I was going to marry. I just didn’t know how to convince her of it.” He continued reliving the story that Treat would never tire of. His father liked to remind him that his mother had gotten all her mother’s beauty and her father’s stubbornness. Her mother was Brazilian, and her father, a Colorado rancher.
Treat had heard this story dozens of times, but not until now did he understand the depth of his father’s feelings of something inside him falling into place. That’s how he’d felt when he’d finally met Max.
“But her heart…” His father looked up and away, as though he could see his wife standing in the distance. “Her heart was as sensitive as a newborn bird. The wrong word, the wrong look, and that bullheadedness that had angered you a minute before would wash away as quick as rain. And just like that, you’d crush her spirit.”
Just like Max. “What did you do when that happened?”
His father looked at him for a long moment before responding. “Son, I did everything I could, that’s what I did. There was nothing I wouldn’t have done for her. My ego did not exist when it came to your mother, and heaven knows she knew it, too.” He laughed under his breath. “I swear that woman used it to her advantage.”
Treat was too busy mulling over what his father said to respond.
His father stood and set a hand on Treat’s shoulder. “You want to talk about her?”
“Mom?”
He shook his head. “The woman who’s got my son so tied up in knots that he’s coming to his daddy for relationship advice.”
“Dad,” he scoffed.
“Don’t deny it, son. I’ve been there. Ain’t no use pretending that noose around your heart doesn’t tighten every time you see whoever thi
s woman is.”
Family knows no boundaries was their family creed, and while it played into taking care of one another, it also meant they would push their noses into each other’s business when they felt one of them was hurting. But Treat was already formulating his plan, and he didn’t need his father’s advice. Every time he thought of Max, he had that feeling—the same one his father described—and there was no way he was going to ignore it.
Chapter Nine
IT WASN’T UNTIL Max stopped to buy coffee on her way to the festival that she realized she’d left her purse in Treat’s truck. After she’d gone back to her apartment, she’d tried to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw his eyes looking back at her with so much emotion that it sent her mind into a whirlwind of embarrassment interlaced with gratitude at his understanding. She’d tossed and turned all night.
When she got to the office, Max consumed enough caffeine to hold her through the morning. Now her stomach was growling as loud as could be as she and Chaz went over reports and plans for the day. The second day of the festival always ran smoother than the first. She was amazed at how much more responsibility the staff could handle after a single day of being thrown feetfirst into the fire, and she was thankful for the breathing space.
“Want to take a break for lunch?” Chaz asked.
“No. I’m fine.” All these figures are blurring together, and I see Treat on every page, but I’ll get through it. Stopping would only give her more time to think about how she’d ended their romantic evening. What must Treat think of her after she’d first turned him down in Nassau and then stopped them last night? What do I think of myself?
She didn’t have an easy answer, but one thing was for sure. She was pissed at herself. It had been years since that awful night, and she was still letting it haunt her. Her stomach gurgled loudly, as if it agreed.
Chaz closed the ledger and stood. “Nonsense. We’ve been at it all morning, and your stomach is growling. Come on. We’ll go to Kale’s and grab a bite.”
“I don’t have my purse.”
“Seriously? That’s the lamest excuse ever. My treat.”
She wondered if it would be rude to ask him to refrain from using the word treat. She pushed herself to her feet with a sigh. “Okay, you win.”
“What’s up with you today?” Chaz asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this tired.”
I was this tired the two weeks after your wedding when I was too heartbroken to function, but you were on your honeymoon. “I didn’t sleep very well last night.”
“You must have had a good time at the party after all.” Chaz held the door open for her.
She shrugged, avoiding real communication.
They were graced with another warm afternoon, and Max tried not to let the beauty of the day get lost in her lingering mortification. She’d never allowed herself to get carried away as she had with Treat last night, telling him she wanted to touch him and urging him on. But she’d wanted to make love to him, and those primal urges were so new, they felt unstoppable—until the worry overcame the desire and she had been powerless to continue.
At the restaurant, she picked at her salad while Chaz caught her up on all the new things the twins were doing. Her phone vibrated, and she pretended not to hear it, wishing she had forgotten her phone instead of her purse. She was too embarrassed to speak to Treat, and she knew he’d call.
“Aren’t you going to check that?” Chaz asked.
“No.”
“Okay, Max, spill it. You always check your phone. What is it that you’re always saying?” He looked up, thinking.
“If someone takes the time to text or call, you better be kind enough to check it.”
“Right,” he said. “That’s it. I seem to remember you drilling that into my head before I got married.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t do a very good job, considering I had to remind you about what I’d said.”
Chaz’s phone vibrated. “It’s probably an issue. Maybe our earpieces aren’t working?” He checked his text.
She turned on her microphone and spoke to one of the staff members, then turned it off and said, “Radio’s fine.”
“This is from Kaylie, and I’m reading this word for word. ‘Something must be wrong with Max. She’s not answering my texts. Check on her for me?’ So don’t tell me I’m reading you wrong.”
She was too exhausted to argue about whether her head was or wasn’t on straight today. It wasn’t. And as much as she wanted to blame someone other than herself, it wasn’t Treat’s fault he was too hot, too kind, and too delicious for her to resist. It was her own fault. Her inability to control her runaway hormones had left her shaking like a ridiculous, inexperienced girl.
Not touching a man for years will do that to a person.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she kept trying to blame Ryan, too. But Max wasn’t used to excuses. She was a doer, a fixer, and even though it was true, blaming what happened all those years ago felt like a crutch, and she was determined to get over it on her own. Especially now that she and Treat had a clean slate.
If only I could figure out how to get past this hurdle.
“I think I’ll go back to the office. I’m really tired. Thanks for lunch, and please tell Kaylie I’m fine.”
“Okay,” he said hesitantly. “Is there anything I can do to help? Because I’m still not buying the tired thing.”
Not unless you know how I can ever look Treat in the eye again without being completely and utterly embarrassed. “Sure. Can you please have them wrap my salad? Maybe I’ll eat it for dinner.” Alone, while I figure myself out.
Much later that afternoon, she was still unsure of how to face Treat. She thought up all sorts of ways, none of which made sense, like pretending she hadn’t urged him on and then gotten so nervous he had to stop. She was responding to a text from Kaylie when her earpiece buzzed.
“Yes?”
“Max, I’ve got a guy down here, says he’s looking for you.”
She checked her watch. “Patron, delivery, or sponsor?”
“Hold on.”
She heard a muffled conversation.
“He says none of the above.”
Max’s heart leapt. Treat. “Um, is he really tall?” She held her breath. Please say no. No, please say yes. Or don’t say anything. Just let him go away until I can figure out how to handle this.
“Freakishly.”
She closed her eyes, smiling. She loved how freakishly tall he was, how his hands covered the breadth of her thighs, and how his weight had felt perfect when he was kissing her. Her nerves pulsed with the memory of his touch.
“Max?”
She touched the earpiece, still not ready to face him. “Yeah, I’m here, but I’m really busy.” Then she remembered her purse. For heaven’s sake. She needed her purse. “Hey, does he have my purse with him?” she asked.
“No. His hands are empty.”
Confused, she said, “Okay, please tell him I’m sorry but I can’t see him right now, but that I’d definitely like to connect again another time.” When I’m not as nervous as a jackrabbit. She clicked off the earpiece and read Kaylie’s texts again.
How was hottie?
She debated asking Kaylie how to handle her situation, but she didn’t want a crutch, and Kaylie would be just that. Instead she texted, He’s more incredible than I ever imagined.
THE AFTERNOON DRAGGED into evening, with each issue taking twice as long as the last. By dinnertime, Max was starving, but she couldn’t even eat her salad from lunch. As they neared closing time, she guzzled more coffee and decided to duck into a theater. Maybe she could close her eyes for a few minutes and no one would notice. The minute her butt hit the only available seat in the theater, her earpiece buzzed, and she hauled herself back out into the cool evening air.
“Yes?”
“Max? Delivery for you.”
“I’m not expecting any deliveries. Who’s the vendor?” she asked as she move
d out of the way of the crowds.
“Forget it, Max. I’ll have someone run it up to the office.”
“Thanks.”
Chaz was texting when Max entered the office. She relaxed into the couch and closed her eyes. Chaz’s phone buzzed three times in quick succession.
“Text fight?” she asked.
“No.” He responded to the texts, and his phone continued to buzz again.
She lifted her head and opened her eyes. “Anything I can do?”
He finally put the phone down on his desk and looked at her. “We’re slow tonight. Why don’t you take an hour off? Get off the grounds and do something non-work-related.”
She snapped to attention. “What?”
“You heard me. Take a break.”
Adrenaline drove her to the edge of his desk. “What’s going on? I’ve never left a festival early, and you know we’re anything but slow tonight.” Max rubbed her temples.
“You’re exhausted,” he said.
“So? I can still do my job. Look, I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries by being so worn out. I take full responsibility, but there’s no reason to make me leave early.”
When he didn’t respond, she said, “I love my job, Chaz. Have I done something wrong?”
“Relax,” he said with a pinched face, sending another quick text. “No. Even when you’re tired, you do twice the work of anyone else.”
Max felt a wave of relief. “Then what is it? Why do you need to get rid of me?”
There was a knock at the door, and Max answered it.
Mark, one of the temporary festival staffers, came through the door carrying an enormous white box and set it on the table. “This just arrived,” he said on his way back out the door.
“Were you expecting something?” Chaz asked.
Max shook her head and lifted the lid, revealing a decadent chocolate cake with lavender-frosting roses in the center. The smell of rich chocolate sent her ravenous stomach into a flurry.
