by Jenny Siegel
Chapter Seven
Any hopes I had of sleeping in are short-lived when Beth starts calling at ten am. Although I woke at eight, I felt my heart sink the minute I remembered how I left things with Max last night. God knows how I’m going to make it right with him, but I need to—and not just because we have to be able to work together. In the grand scheme of things, he isn’t a bad person. Yeah, he’s a player and sometimes thinks he’s God’s gift, but when you look like him, I imagine it is hard not to act like that.
“Yeah?” I stifle a yawn when I answer my cell.
“When are you coming over?” she asks impatiently.
“When do you want me?” I yawn and roll over, resisting the urge to pull the duvet over my head and stay there.
“As soon as you’re ready. Cocktails will start when you get here.” The excitement in her voice makes me feel like a total party pooper.
“Okay, I’m getting up. Be there soon.” I lie; there is no way I’m getting there before noon because we’ll be trashed by two. Although that might be a good way to approach this wedding planning nonsense.
“Good. And hurry up.” I hang up mid-lecture and remain in bed for another ten minutes, trying to muster up the enthusiasm to get up. The foremost thought I have is that I need to make things right with Max before it gets awkward at work.
• • •
I pull up outside Beth’s granny’s house at eleven thirty and wheel my bike into the garage. If Beth has her way, there is no way I’ll be using my bike again today. Beth has lived with her granny since her parents left when she was a baby. They joined some commune somewhere and didn’t want to be burdened with a child. Granny Betty was more than happy to raise Beth rather than let her waste of space parents take her with them.
Granny Betty isn’t your typical granny. She is young and vivacious and full of life. Always beautifully dressed and has the softest wrinkle-free skin I’ve ever seen. She said it’s because she stays out of the sun as much as she can and it has certainly paid off. Because my mom left when I was quite young, I spent as much of my childhood at her house as I did my own. Christmases and birthdays would be spent with them, and whenever I was in town, I always made sure to say good-bye to Granny Betty before I left.
Beth and Granny Betty are generally sitting out in the yard, so I don’t bother going into the house and head around to the back. Granny Betty is under a big parasol, but Beth is sitting with her face turned up toward the sun. A pitcher of some fruity cocktail is sitting on the table, and my stomach lurches at the sight of it. I’m not much of a drinker, and I know that all sense will fly out the window when I’m with Beth. I might as well just write off tomorrow and resign myself to staying in bed with a hangover all day.
“’Bout time you got here,” Beth grumbles good-naturedly. “The ice in the cocktails is melting.”
“Quit your whining and have a drink.” I pour her a cocktail and thrust the glass at her. She winks at me as I pour myself one and sit down. Maybe today will do me good. Spend the afternoon with my best friend, have a few drinks, keep my mind off a certain Max Morgan, and chill out. No such luck.
“So where did you go last night?”
“Uh?” I choke, swallowing too much ice and spit it back into the glass.
“You and Max, at the end of the race. Where’d you go?” Her eyes are closed the whole time she is interrogating me. Maybe it hones her other senses, and she can sniff out a lie.
“Ah, just up to the buff above the quarry.” Which is the truth; she doesn’t need to know about the exhilarating ride up there, or the even more exhilarating kiss that took place while we were at the top, or what it could have led to had I not put a stop to it.
“That’s all?”
“Yup, that’s about it.”
“So why was Max so pissed when we saw him later?”
“He was at The Three Monkeys?” I try to keep the curiosity out of my voice. Of course, he was. He no doubt had a girl waiting for him there. One who wouldn’t halt his advances.
“No, we saw him drive past as we were leaving, and Aaron waved him down.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, he looked pretty mad. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”
“Me? No, of course, not. He dropped me here for my bike, and I went home.”
“Uh-huh.” She casts me a sidelong glance, and I know that she doesn’t for one second believe me.
“About this wedding planning… what are you thinking?” If she sees the dramatic subject change for what it is, she doesn’t let on. Instead, she nods toward a large pile of wedding magazines. I stifle a groan and pick up the first one and flick through it. At least if I pretend I’m looking through the magazines, I might be off the hook.
After the first few magazines, they all start to blur together. Maybe it is because Beth keeps topping off my glass; I’ve lost track of how many cocktails I’ve had and how many times she’s reappeared with a fresh pitcher. I’m pretty sure I’ve agreed to any number of things to do with this wedding and there is no way in hell I’ll remember any of them in the morning. Hopefully, she won’t either.
Drinking in the middle of the day under the hot sun is so not a good idea. We’ve stripped down and the baggy t-shirt and skinny jeans I was wearing have been replaced by a tank top and denim shorts, courtesy of Beth. I opted for longer shorts because the other ones she offered me exposed my ass when I bent over but that’s just because Beth is a short ass.
Not much food has been consumed, so when Beth suggests we go to The Three Monkeys for some bar food and drinks, it sounds like the best idea she’s had all day. Granny Betty drops us off on the way to her weekly book group, with a strict warning that we have to eat something and stick to water. Trying our hardest to keep our faces straight, we promise, but as soon as Beth reaches the bar, she orders us some chicken wings, nachos, and two beers.
The food helps and we do manage a couple of glasses of water, but then Beth comes back with two more beers, and I decide it would be a good idea to put some music on.
I find some relatively modern music on the jukebox in the corner and make my selection, talking to myself the whole time and squealing when I find a song that I really like. When I get back to the bar, Beth is slipping her phone back into her pocket and hands me another beer. I really shouldn’t, but why not; I’m under strict instructions to have fun with Beth this weekend.
Five minutes later, Aaron appears and can’t hide his amusement as he crosses the bar.
“Baaabe,” Beth calls out. “You made it.” He shakes his head as she throws her arms around him and rests her cheek on his chest. Her eyes are drooping, and she looks like she’s fallen asleep.
“I can see you girls have had fun.” He laughs and I raise my glass but seem to have temporarily lost the power of speech.
The door opens, and over Aaron’s shoulder, I see Max walk in. His eyes find mine immediately, and my stomach flips violently at the possessive look he gives me.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” I slur slightly and set my beer down on the bar.
I guess I was a little louder than I intended when Max says, “Nice to see you, too.” And he can’t hide the amused smile that spreads over that fucking gorgeous face of his.
“What the fuck, Aaron? Him, of all people,” I complain and watch as the smile on Max’s face hardens. Oh dear, I’ve pissed him off again.
“Shut up, Storm. Who else was I going to call? I can’t handle the two of you when you’re like this,” he complains, and I stick my tongue out at him.
Beth opens her eyes and notices that Max has now joined us. “Aw, you’ve come for Storm. Good call, Aaron.” She claps him on the chest and beams at me.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mouth at her, but she just laughs harder.
“Get over it, you two. I don’t know what the hell is going on and why you keep pretending you hate each other, but it’s all bullshit. Just do it already.” She picks up her beer and drains the last of it
while Max and I stare at her open mouthed. Even he looks a little shocked at her bluntness.
“Right, sexy.” She takes hold of Aaron’s hand. “You can take me home now,” she says with a wink and pulls him after her, blowing a kiss over her shoulder.
My drink sits on the bar, and I pick it up and drain half of it, feeling very hot all of a sudden. But I think that has something to do with the fact that Max’s eyes have never left mine.
“Really?” He raises an eyebrow as I set the glass down.
“What?” I shrug but that last drink wasn’t one of my brighter ideas. It’s gone straight to my head to join the other however many that I’ve lost count of. It has tipped me over the edge and now I feel really drunk.
“Come on.” He heaves a sigh of exasperation, and I climb down from the stool. He holds out his arms, and embarrassingly, I fall into them. My hands wrap around his neck, and I practically knock him off his feet. Catching me by the waist, he takes a step back to save us both from landing on our asses. Now, we are nose to nose, and my eyes stare right back at him. Tilting my head to the side, I scrutinize him from a different angle. My breath catches in my throat, and a funny expression forms on his face.
He loops an arm around my waist, and I stumble slightly and fall into his side. My hands land on lean muscle and I let them linger, not entirely unhappy about being this close to him, but I won’t tell him that.
Outside, he leans me up against his car so he can dig the keys out of his pocket. I crane my neck back to look up at the clear night sky and slide sideways down the car and land on my ass.
“Ouch.” I give a small cry when my head bangs against the car and Max looks down.
“Why’re you sitting down there?” He looks down at me sitting on the gravel.
“Needed to sit down,” I grumble and rub the back of my head.
“Let’s go.” He pulls me up to standing and doesn’t let go until I’m strapped into the passenger seat.
“Shouldn’t you be out on a date with some blond bimbo?” I ask as he fastens his seatbelt. The alcohol is making me jealous and bitchy, or maybe that’s just the way I really feel. Who knows?
The muscle in his jaw tightens along with his grip on the steering wheel and he casts me a sideways look.
“I was,” he says in a clipped tone.
“Pardon?”
“I was on a date when Aaron phoned.”
“Had you already slept with her?” It is out of my mouth before I can rein myself in and take it back. I have no right saying things like that.
Max shoots me a murderous look and I gulp. Oh shit. I have really overstepped the mark with that comment. Lucky for me, we’ve reached my house, and he pulls his GTO into the drive. The engine is still running as I take off my belt and I reach for the door handle, ready to make my escape.
“Not so fast,” he grinds out and something in his tone makes me drop my hand to rest in my lap, staring down at it.
“Thanks for rescuing me, but I'm good from here.”
“Like hell you are. I'm not leaving you.” My jaw drops and I turn to face him.
“What about your date?”
“I blew her off to come get you.” Confusion registers on my face but my response is cut off when he closes the gap and kisses me. Instead of protesting, my drunken self leans further into the kiss.
With a growl, he hauls me out of my seat and into his lap so I am straddling him. The hard-on in his jeans presses against the hard ridge of my shorts and I gasp as a jolt of pleasure nips through me. Max’s hands roam down my back to grip my ass and he rocks me against him. This time my gasp is a moan. His hand moves to the front and up to cup my breast in his large palm, his thumb brushes back and forth over the nipple as I press down on him.
“Do you still want me to go?”
And against my better judgment, I shake my head. “No. Stay.”
Max smiles against my lips as he continues to kiss me.
“When did you last have sex?” he murmurs, kissing along my jawline.
“What?”
“I want to know when you last had sex and who with?”
“None of your damn business.”
“Did they make you come?” He rocks me again, and I teeter on the edge; if only he would just stop with the questions.
“Did they make you come like I made you come?”
“Max, shut the fuck-” I stop and freeze.
He pulls back. “What is it?”
“I’m gonna be sick.” I clamp my hand over my mouth, and his eyes widen in horror. He throws open the door and pushes me out. I stagger to one of the flowerbeds and bend over, bringing up everything I've had since lunchtime, most of it liquid.
Once I’ve emptied the contents of my stomach, I take a few shaky breaths and rest my hands on my thighs while I wait for my stomach to stop churning. Max stands behind me, holding my hair out of the way with one hand while the other rubs slow, soothing circles on my back.
“Feel better?” he asks, and I give a small nod. The churning in my stomach has stopped, and my head is a little clearer.
“Let’s get you inside.” Max’s hand rests on the small of my back as he guides me up the drive to the front door and takes my keys from me to let us into the house. Once I cross the threshold, I turn and rest my palms on his chest, noticing the way his heart races underneath my hand.
“You don’t need to stay.”
“I’m not leaving you. Not in this state.” He steps forward, pushing against my palms. My mouth drops open to protest, but it slams shut again at the steely glint in his eye.
“Fine,” I whisper, resigned to him staying but secretly glad that he is. I start to walk up the stairs, leaving Max to lock up and follow me when he’s ready.
When I reach my bedroom, I flop onto the bed and lay there, willing the room to stop spinning. My eyes droop as tiredness creeps up on me, but I force them open. Yuck, I need to brush my teeth. It is a struggle to sit up, but I lurch from the bed to the bathroom. I make it just in time to double over the toilet and bring up more liquid.
More deep breaths later and I manage to stand up to tie my hair back, wash my face, and brush my teeth. I feel a little better and at least I don’t have that disgusting taste in my mouth anymore. Beth’s top is splattered with puke, and I yank it over my head to throw in the hamper. God, why did I agree to Max staying? I am a mess. A sick covered mess.
Just in my bra and shorts, I walk into the room at the same time as Max enters from the hall, carrying a glass of water and two tablets, which I’m hoping are Advil to help with my banging headache.
“Here.” He holds out his hand and tries his hardest not to stare at me standing half naked in front of him. That is the least of my worries; I am going to have the hangover from hell tomorrow morning. After a long drink, I hand the glass back to him and flop down on the end of the bed, lying on my back with my arms over my head.
“Can you take my sneakers off?” I mumble with my eyes closed and demonstrate by lifting one foot off the ground. Max crouches down and begins to untie first one Converse and then the other and pulls them off.
“Shorts,” I slur, and I’m positive I hear a groan before the bed dips under his weight as he kneels over me. Warm fingers brush against my stomach as he unfastens the button and slides the zipper down. Hooking his fingers around the waist of my denim shorts, he shimmies them down my legs and off my feet.
As I lie there, still with my eyes closed, all I hear is our breathing, heavy and erratic. At least it’s just not me. Max hasn’t uttered a word and I open first one eye and then the other to peer up at him. He is still kneeling on the bed, staring down at me, desire burning brightly in the depths of his dark eyes. It sends a ripple of pleasure through me. A small sensible part of my brain is telling me not to do this, but I shut it down. All the alcohol that is still swimming around my system has lowered my inhibitions, along with it every barrier I’ve ever put up against Max. All common sense deserts me, and I’m left wanting him.
“Feel better?” he asks, but it comes out gruff. I’d say that he’s feeling it, too. I prop myself up on my elbows to watch him as he moves from the end of the bed. I push up to stand in front of him and reach out to lay my hands on his abs, feeling them tense under my touch. My fingers push the material upwards, slowly revealing tanned muscular flesh. Inch by inch, I bunch the t-shirt up his body until finally Max reaches behind him and pulls it off, tossing it to the side.
Wow, just wow. I take a step back at the sight of his naked torso and unashamedly check him out, letting my eyes roam over every glorious muscled inch of him. A sexy smile spreads over his face, and I think I may have spoken out loud.
“You think?” He peers down through hooded lids. Yep, I definitely said that out loud.
“Shut up,” I grumble as he holds his hands up laughing softly. The laughter dies on his lips when I slide my hands up his chest and down his muscular biceps, tracing my fingers over the tattoos that decorate one arm. Over his stomach, my hands travel to the buttons of his jeans and pull them apart to reveal soft gray boxers with Calvin Klein written on the waistband. He stands there, head dipped, watching me as I push the jeans off his lean hips and down his legs. When they reach his ankles, he kicks off his boots and hops around pulling the jeans off his legs.
When he straightens, my fingers resume their exploration, this time making a beeline for the v that is carved into the muscle, running from his hips and disappearing into his boxer briefs. I tug them down, almost to an indecent level, revealing more of the v but stopping short of his dick that is hardening rapidly.
Max’s finger catches under my chin and tips it upwards to meet his dark hooded eyes that have never left me. As my fingers trace the outline of his erection through his boxers, his mouth parts a fraction, but no sound comes out. He swallows thickly and licks his lips before he can get the words out.
