The Gamble

Chapter Three Buffalo Burgers

After I ate, I did my dishes, Max’s dishes, wiped down the counters, found the extra sheets in the closet and made the bed. Then I found the utility room around the corner from the recess in the living room. The dirty sheets were on the floor. As the advertisement said, washer and drier but also a bunch of man stuff that needed to be organized.

I let that stuff be. I put the sheets in the washer.

I packed my bags and decided that Max could have the groceries. He and Becca and the unknown Mindy could have a party. I didn’t care. I was out of there.

Then I poured myself another cup of coffee and found the phonebook. It was thin; I’d never seen a phonebook so thin.

I realized why it was thin when I looked up taxi companies. There was only one. But one was enough.

I went to Max’s phone, pulled it out of the receiver and punched in the number.

“Thrifty’s,” a woman answered.

“Hello, my name is Ms. Sheridan and I need a taxi to town.”

There was a pause and then, “Nina?”

My body jolted and then I froze with the phone to my ear.

“Hello?” the voice called.

“Um… yes?”

“This Nina?”

“How do you know who I am?”

“Welp, Max called, said a lady with a fancy accent by the name of Nina would call, askin’ for a taxi. You’re a lady with a fancy accent and you’re askin’ for a taxi. Get some of those callin’ with British accents, not a lot. So I’m takin’ a wild guess. You Nina?”

I wondered if I could make it to Denver then to England before anyone discovered Max’s body. Then I wondered if anyone would bother with extradition if they figured out it was me who did the deed. That was a lot of paperwork for one big, tall, domineering, jerky mountain man. Then I wondered, considering Max was so tall and big, how I’d kill him.

Then I decided, poison.

Then I answered, “Yes, I’m Nina.”

“Max said you been down with flu, girl, you need to rest,” the woman advised me.

“I thought I’d check into a hotel room in town.”

She hooted in my ear but said no actual words.

“What?” I asked.

“Girl, Holden Maxwell quarantined me to his house and he was in it, I wouldn’t go lookin’ for no hotel room.”

I felt my brows draw together. “Who’s Holden Maxwell?”

“Who’s Holden Maxwell?” she repeated.

“Yes. Who’s Holden Maxwell?”

“Girl, you’re livin’ with him.”

His name was Holden? What kind of name was that? No wonder he called himself Max.

I decided not to ask about the origins of Max’s name or explain the fact that I was not living with him and told her, “Well, he isn’t actually here, so I’m quarantined alone.”

“Oh, he’ll be back.”

I didn’t doubt that.

“Since you probably know where he lives, will you please send a taxi?” I asked.

“Nope,” she answered.

I was silent a beat, mostly shock, a little anger then I repeated, “Nope?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause Max says you need to rest.”

Yes, definitely poison.

“I’ll pay double.”

“You still gotta rest.”

I was seeing red again, I ignored it and offered, “I’ll pay triple.”

“Triple shmiple. You gotta rest.”

“Listen –”

“Come into town with Max when you’ve recovered. I’ll buy you a beer.”

Did she just tell me she’d buy me a beer? How did we get from me ordering a taxi to her buying me a beer?

“What?” I asked.

“Name’s Arlene. Come to The Dog. Show you the town only locals know.”

“But –”

“Gotta go. Get some rest, you hear?”

Then she hung up.

I stood staring at the phone buzzing at me. Then I beeped it off and put it in the receiver.

The internet advertisement didn’t say word one about nutty townspeople. Not word one. If it did, I definitely would not have hit “book now”.

I looked back through the phonebook. No more taxi companies. There were three rental agencies but they rented ATVs and snow mobiles. I didn’t think that would help.

It was either walk, when I felt like taking a nap, or I was stuck.

Which meant I was stuck.

Which meant I needed to take a nap so I could be energized and clearheaded when I plotted Holden Maxwell’s murder.

Before that, I had one more thing to do.

I went to my purse, grabbed my cell and saw the battery was low. I also saw I had a number of texts, all from friends, not one from Niles.

I climbed the spiral staircase, went to my overnight bag beside my suitcase, dug out the charger and the converter, attached them and plugged them into the wall. Then I pulled the cord and phone with me and sat on the bed. Then I went to my contacts and hit Niles’s number.

He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Niles?”

“Nina?”

I tried to figure out how I felt about his voice coming at me over the phone and I couldn’t figure it out. It wasn’t relief or welcome familiarity it was just… well, familiarity.

Then I tried to figure out how I felt about his voice coming over the phone not sounding relieved that I was calling from half a world away. Just sounding like Niles and I was at the store asking him what he wanted for dinner. I couldn’t figure that out either.

“Hi, I’m here,” I told him.

“That’s good.”

“I’ve been here for –”

“Listen,” he cut me off, “I’m about to go into a meeting.”

“What?”

“I’ve got a meeting.”

I shook my head. “Niles, I just wanted to tell you, I’ve been sick.”

“Yes, you said you thought you were getting a sinus infection.”

“Well, it was worse than that.”

“You sound fine.”

I did. Miraculously, outside of being tired, I felt pretty good. My throat didn’t hurt, I wasn’t coughing though my nose was still kind of stuffy.

“I’m better now.”

“That’s good.” He sounded distracted. “They’re waiting for me.”

“Okay,” I said. “Do you want me to call later?”

“Later?” Now he sounded perplexed, as if he didn’t understand the concept of later.

“Later, tonight, when you’re home.”

“I’m working late.”

“Yes, but your late is my afternoon.”

I heard his sigh then he said, “If you want.”

If I want?

I felt anger again, surprisingly anger at Niles. I never got angry at Niles. He never did anything to get angry at mostly because he never did anything.

“Niles, I’m half a world away.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m half a world away!” I said louder.

“I don’t understand.”

And he didn’t. Because he wasn’t the type of man who cared if is fiancée needed a timeout and took it half a world away.

And I wondered what he’d think if I told him I was staying in the beautiful home with breathtaking views with a amazing looking man who’d seen me naked (mostly), made me breakfast, teased me, flirted with me and who I’d kind of slept with.

“Are you there?” he asked me.

“I’m here.”

“I need to go.”

“Of course.”

“Call me later, if you like.”

“Right.”

“Are you okay?”

No, I was not.

I didn’t tell him this, instead I said, “Tired.”

“Rest, that’s what you’re there to do.”

No it wasn’t. I was there to take a timeout.

“Right,” I said again.

“Talk to you later.”

“Right.”

“Good-bye.”

“Bye.”

Then he disconnected.

I stared at my phone, hit the button to turn it off and set it on Max’s nightstand. Then I flopped back on the bed. Then I bit my lip so I wouldn’t cry.

Charlie had never met Niles and I wished he had. Charlie had always been sharp, good at reading people. Charlie would have given it to me gently but he would have given it to me straight.

Problem was, I didn’t think I needed Charlie to give it to me straight.

I lifted my left hand to my face and with my right hand I touched my ring.

I’d been thrilled when Niles asked me to marry him because I’d been in love with him. He was steady, he was quiet, he was predictable and he loved me in his Niles way.

He’d never cheat on me which had happened to me, back in the day when shit happened to me. He’d never be mean to me, say mean stuff to me, not on purpose just to hurt me and not when he was drunk which also had happened to me, back before I played it safe and shit happened to me. And he’d never lay a hand on me in anger which, unfortunately, also happened to me.

So he wasn’t affectionate. So he didn’t hold my hand, hug me, cuddle me, hold me when we slept. So he didn’t call me “honey” or “baby” or give me a nickname like “Duchess”.

He was solid, he had a good job, he worked hard. He didn’t play hard, just worked hard. He didn’t have a lot of friends. He didn’t like to go out much. What he liked to do was sit on the couch watching TV with me at his side. Or DVDs. He was content with that. In his Niles way, he loved that, just him and me, watching TV.

And I was content… ish. It wasn’t exciting but it was nice… ish. It meant I’d never get hurt again. Truly, there was something to be said for steady, quiet and predictable.

But was that enough for me for the rest of my life?

You know the answer to that, Neenee Bean, I heard Charlie say in my head and I jumped, lurching up, and looked around, seeing no one.

I’d heard Charlie talking to me on occasion but it was remembering things he’d said or knowing what he would say. He’d never talked to me talked to me.

“Maybe this timeout wasn’t a good thing,” I whispered to the room. “Maybe it was a bad thing.”

Charlie didn’t answer, no one did.

And I decided, since I was hearing voices, that maybe a nap was a good thing.

***

“Nina.”

My eyes opened and I saw Max’s face close to mine. I also felt his fingers digging into my hip. I was on my side in his bed and he was sitting in the crook of my lap.

“Jesus, you sleep like the dead,” he muttered, pulling back only his head, his hand stayed where it was.

I saw the TV was blue screen and the sun was fading. It was getting dark which meant it was getting late.

I rolled my head slightly on the pillow to look up at him, still not quite awake and asked, “What?”

“I thought it was because you were sick but you sleep like the dead,” Max informed me then he lifted his hand not at my hip and he took a bite out of a chocolate chip cookie.

My eyes narrowed on the cookie. “Are those my cookies?”

He chewed, swallowed then said, “Yeah,” then shoved the rest of the cookie in his mouth.

I got up on an elbow and said, “But those are mine.”

“Honey, they’re in my house, they’re fair game.”

“I see this sharing the house business isn’t going to work,” I told him and he grinned.

“They’re fuckin’ good cookies, babe, but there’re about three dozen of them. You gonna eat them all?”

“Yes,” I bit out.

“Well, you’ll have to eat them all but four,” he told me.

“You had four?”

“Yeah,” he replied, ignoring my tone and possibly the lethal look on my face before he went on. “I’m hungry. Let’s go to dinner.”

“Dinner?”

His hand suddenly moved from my hip to my shoulder, his finger traced skin there and I felt that my shirt had fallen down. I yanked it up, sat up and scooted up to the headboard.

His hand dropped to the bed at the other side of my thighs so he was leaning across me and he said, “Yeah, dinner, I’m takin’ you to town for a burger.”

“You’re taking me to town for a burger?”

He tipped his head to the side and asked, “You gonna repeat everything I say?”

“No.”

“Good,” he said, pushed up off the bed, grabbed my hand before I could evade his clutch and yanked me to my feet in a way I could neither ignore nor fight. “Get yourself sorted out. We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”

Then he turned and started to walk away.

“I’m not going to town with you,” I announced.

He turned back and asked, “Why not?”

“Because you called the taxi company and told them not to send a taxi.”

“And?”

“And, as delighted as I was to be offered a beer by Arlene coupled with the opportunity to experience town like a local, I wanted a taxi.”

He grinned again. “Arlene’s friendly.”

“I think Arlene’s a little nutty.”

“Friendly ain’t nutty, darlin’, it’s friendly.”

“It would have been friendlier if she sent a taxi.”

He tipped his head to the bed and noted, “You got a nap.”

“Yes.”

“And you got your color back.”

I fought the urge to touch my cheeks, won my fight and said, “So?”

“So, you got rest, except for bakin’ cookies. It’s what you needed.”

“Max, what I need is to –”

He turned and started walking away, saying, “We’ll talk over burgers.”

“Max.”

“Burgers,” he said before he hit the staircase.

“Max!” I shouted.

He didn’t answer.

God, he was so annoying.

He was hungry? He wanted burgers? He wanted to talk over burgers? I was hungry too, actually famished. So we’d talk over burgers.

I went to my suitcase, pulled out my hair drier and my makeup case and snatched up the converter. He wanted to go to town to talk over burgers; he’d have to wait until I did my hair and makeup. I didn’t go anywhere without doing my hair and makeup.

Unfortunately that morning I didn’t sleep. I tried but it wouldn’t come. So I made cookies instead. Then it was time for lunch, so I made lunch. Then I put the sheets in the drier, cleaned up after the cookies and lunch and tried to read but I was too tired so I went upstairs and slid open the doors to the TV and VCR. Max had a selection of shoot ‘em ups, some Westerns, horror, a few espionage, lots of explosion movies. I picked an espionage, made the bed, watched the movie, went downstairs and folded the sheets then went back upstairs to watch another espionage, which, obviously, I fell asleep while watching.

Now, it was dinnertime.

I blew out my hair sleek, gunked it up with some stuff I liked that contained any fly-aways and then did my makeup. Not full-on Nina makeup since I was in the Colorado mountains and if makeup-less, mountain fresh Becca was anything to go by the girls in the Colorado mountains didn’t do full-on Nina makeup. I went light, I might have got some of my color back but not all of it and I needed a bit of help.

Then I walked out of the bathroom, put away my stuff in my suitcase ever ready to escape, spritzed with perfume, put on some gold hoop earrings, a bunch of gold tinkly bracelets and wrapped a thin, lilac scarf edged with an inch of gold once around my neck, letting the long ends fall down the front. I pulled on some socks then my high-heeled tan boots. Then I stomped downstairs.

“Ready,” I announced when I hit the bottom.

Max was standing in the kitchen, looking like he was sorting through mail and he was eating another cookie.

“You’re eating another cookie,” I accused.

His head came up and his eyes did a full body scan before he said, “Duchess, you were up there a year. I didn’t have another cookie, I’d starve to death.”

I’d made it to the bar and put my hands on it. “I wasn’t up there a year.”

“Felt like a year.”

“It wasn’t a year.”

His eyes did a full face scan before he said in a softer voice, “Though, it was worth it.”

That voice and his words made me feel funny in a way I wasn’t willing to explore.

Therefore I said, “Can we go?”

He grinned before he replied, “Yeah,” then he put the rest of the cookie in his mouth and dropped the mail.

“Do you know where my coat is?” I asked.

“Closet,” he answered, going to the dining room table and nabbing his leather jacket off the back of one of the chairs.

I walked to one of the doors under the loft, guessing and guessed right. There was a big storage room, some hooks on the wall, lots more man stuff. My tan, shawl collared, belt cinched at the waist, falling to the hip, cashmere coat was on a hook. I grabbed it and shrugged it on, flipping my hair over the collar as Max stood at the opened front door.

“You look like you’re gonna meet the queen,” he said, giving me an indication that even toned down I might be a bit more fancy than the normal Colorado mountain town look.

“You don’t meet the queen in jeans,” I explained, walking through the door and cinching my belt.

“You would know,” he muttered.

I swallowed back a growl and headed to the Cherokee.

He flashed open the locks but didn’t come around and open my door. This didn’t surprise me. He didn’t seem a door opening type. Neither was Niles. Then again, Niles didn’t drive, didn’t know how, never bothered to learn and it didn’t bother him that he couldn’t. Firstly, I could drive and when we went somewhere together I did. Secondly, he could take a taxi to a train and you could take trains most everywhere. Then, once you got there, you could take a taxi to where you were going. Any town, even small ones, had more than just Arlene at Thrifty’s.

I pulled myself up into the cab, settled and belted in.

“I’d like you to call Arlene and lift the boycott on a taxi for Nina,” I told him once he started up, did a swift, somewhat hair-raising, three point turn and headed down the lane.

“You goin’ somewhere?”

“I might wish to and, without the keys to the rental that would be difficult.”

“We’ll see.”

“We won’t, you’ll call her.”

“Not big on women tellin’ me what to do.”

“Max –”

“Or anyone,” he finished and I turned to him, incredulous.

“You’re not big on women, or anyone, telling you what to do but you’ve essentially stolen my car and told the only taxi service in town not to give me a ride, which is, in essence, telling me what to do.”

“In essence,” he agreed pleasantly.

“I… I…” I stammered, “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Then don’t say anything.”

“I’ve decided to poison you,” I announced acidly.

He burst out laughing then took a right at the end of the road. I looked out the windscreen and crossed my arms on my chest.

“I wasn’t being amusing.”

“Impossible.”

My neck twisted and I looked at him. “I wasn’t!”

“Let me get this straight, I nurse you through a fever and you thank me by poisoning me?”

“You’re holding me prisoner.”

“Honey, you rented the house for two weeks, that’s hardly holding you prisoner.”

“I rented a house that was supposed to be vacant.”

“Lucky for you, seein’ as you got so sick, it wasn’t.”

He had a point there.

“And, today, it was, save you,” he went on.

He had a point there too.

I decided to be quiet.

Quiet wasn’t good because Max seemed comfortable with quiet and my mind wandered. It wandered to what he was doing all day. And then it wandered to what he was doing all day with Becca. And then it wandered to the fact he was with Becca at all. And then it wandered to wondering who Becca was. None of this was my business but I wanted to ask even though I knew I shouldn’t care. Then I realized I did care and I worried about what that meant.

We hit town and it was busy, busier than I’d expect for a small town in the mountains on a Tuesday night. It was also pretty. When I’d driven through it, considering the snowstorm and my state of mind, I didn’t pay much attention. I knew from the internet advertisement that it was an old gold mining town that made it even after all these years, lately because of tourist trade due to its proximity to popular ski slopes, its shops, restaurants and the fact that it was pretty. The buildings looked old by American standards, not, obviously, English. And the sidewalks were wooden boardwalks with wooden railings like you’d hitch a horse too. There were more than a few shops that looked interesting. If I ever got my car keys back, I was definitely going to explore.

After I checked into the hotel which, on our drive through town, I also noted its location.

“Can you walk in those boots?” Max asked into the quiet cab.

“Yes,” I answered.

“I mean more than a few feet.”

“Yes,” I answered, this time curtly.

“Just askin’, Duchess, seein’ as we have to park a ways away.”

“I’ll be fine.”

We parked in town though I didn’t know if it was “a ways away” from where we were going. However when he parked, he parked with the passenger side by an enormous pile of snow that had obviously been created by removing it from the roads. And he parked so close I couldn’t open my door.

I looked out the window at the mound of snow then back at Max.

“I don’t think I can open my door.”

He didn’t answer at first. He just opened his door and got out.

Then he leaned in, reached an arm toward me and said, “Crawl over.”

“Crawl over?”

“Crawl over the seat.”

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Do I look like I’m jokin’?” he asked back and the answer was no, he didn’t look like he was joking.

I apparently had two choices. Sit in the Cherokee while he had a burger or crawl over the driver’s seat.

That was really only one choice so I expelled a heavy sigh, unbuckled my belt, hitched my purse up my shoulder and started to crawl over.

I barely had a hand in the seat when his hands went under my armpits and he hauled me bodily across the cab. Automatically I reached out to clutch his shoulders and one of his hands went out of my pit and around my waist, the other one went around my upper back and he pulled me to his body. Then, sliding me down his body, he set me on my feet in front of him. Right in front of him. Full frontal in front of him.

When he didn’t immediately let me go, I tipped my head back and told him, “I think I made it.”

“You smell good,” he said in return.

“I’m sorry?”

“You smell good,” he repeated.

I pushed back against his arms but they didn’t budge.

“Max –”

“You call him?”

I blinked at the same time I shook my head, confused. “Sorry?”

“Your man, you call him?”

Something strange shifted inside of me. I didn’t know what it was but I knew I wasn’t going to explore that either.

“Yes.”

“You tell him you were sick?”

“Yes.”

“What’d he have to say?”

My hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, I put light pressure there but said softly, “Max, I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”

“Yeah,” he said softly back, “that’s what I figured he’d have to say.”

“What?” I asked, back to confused but he let my waist go, put a hand to my belly and pushed me back several feet. Then he closed the door, beeped the locks, grabbed my hand and started walking fast with wide, long strides. “Max…” I called but stopped speaking.

We hit the boarded sidewalk and he answered, “Yeah?”

I decided to let it go so I replied, “Nothing.”

We walked fast, side by side, hand in hand. I let the hand in hand thing go too. He was often a jerk but he had nursed me back to health and, anyway, his hand was big, it was strong, it was warm and the night was cold.

I saw ahead of us that there were people hanging outside a door looking like they were waiting to be let in. When we passed the windows I saw it was a restaurant, rough looking but also welcoming. And packed.

Max opened the door the people were standing around, pushed me through using his hand in mine and kept the contact as we went to the hostess station.

The hostess wore no makeup, a t-shirt that announced she was a fan of the Grateful Dead and she had a mop of coppery curls pulled up in a mess on top of her head.

She also had on a pair of unusual, huge, silver hoop earrings, the silver hoop a wide, curled, web. They were stunning.

She looked up, her face brightened immediately when she saw Max and she shouted, “Max!”

“Hey Sarah,” Max returned.

Her eyes came to me, she did a body sweep and her face closed down, just a little bit but it did it and I thought that was strange.

Max stopped us in front of her and didn’t let go of my hand.

“Got a table?”

“Yep,” she said instantly and I looked into the packed restaurant. Then I looked behind us. Then beside us. All the open space and outside was filled with people standing waiting for tables.

I also noticed they were kind of dressed like me, except different, slightly more casual. But they were obviously tourists on vacation wearing vacation clothes, not locals.

Locals, evidently, didn’t have to wait for tables.

She grabbed some stuff from under the hostess station, turned and walked into the restaurant. Max tugged my hand and we followed her. She took us to the far, back corner where there was an empty booth that a busboy was still wiping down. He scurried off with a smile and a, “Hey Max,” before he passed.

She slapped down white paper placemats, utensils wrapped in napkins and a plastic bucket filled with crayons.

Then she turned to Max and asked, “Usual?”

“Yeah,” he replied, using my hand to position me toward the side of the booth that had its back to the wall, facing the restaurant. “Two,” he concluded.

“Gotcha.”

“Wait,” I called when she started to move away.

“Yeah?” she asked, eyes on me.

“I like your earrings,” I told her. “They’re stunning.”

She looked surprised a second before she lifted the fingers of one hand to her ear and muttered, “Thanks.”

“Did you get them recently? I mean, is there somewhere I could buy a pair?”

She studied me for a moment before saying, “Yeah, down the street, I got ‘em a year ago but they carry ‘em all the time.”

“Thanks,” I smiled at her.

“Sarah, this is Nina,” Max told her and she nodded to me.

“Hey, Nina.”

“Hi.”

“It’s called Karma,” she told me.

“What?”

“The silver place. They got other good stuff too. Karma.”

“Karma. Thanks,” I said again.

“No probs,” she replied then turned and walked away.

Before I knew what was happening, Max maneuvered me into the booth before I could take off my coat or purse. And again before I knew what was happening, he sat down in my side.

“Max,” I said but he wasn’t listening, he was shrugging off his coat, his arm bumping into me twice as he did so. Then he threw it over the table to the opposite bench, turned to me and said, “Coat.”

I pressed back into the corner, pulled the purse off my arm, Max took it from me, threw it over the table and it landed on his coat. I watched it sail then I watched it land.

“You just threw my purse,” I informed him.

“Yeah,” he replied then demanded, “Coat.”

I stared at him a second, deciding that fighting about taking off my coat and the fact that I’d rather he not sit by me but across from me would keep me from dinner. Therefore, still pressed into the corner, I shrugged off my coat. He took it and threw that too.

Obviously a gentleman.

“Max –”

He twisted, leaned toward me, put one forearm on the table, the other arm on the back of the booth and considering his sudden proximity, the sheer size of his frame, the effect of his clear, gray eyes on me and the fact I was pinned in a corner, I stopped talking.

“Tell me, Duchess, how does an American come to sound like you?”

I stared at him another second then murmured, “It’s a long story.”

He looked over his shoulder at the restaurant, turned back to me and noted, “This ain’t fast food.”

“That’s too bad, considering I’m hungry.”

“So, the American passport and the English accent?” he prompted, ignoring my comment.

“In England, they say I have an American accent,” I informed him.

“They’d be wrong.”

“Actually, they’re right.”

He shook his head. “You aren’t answering my question.”

I sighed then I said, “I’ve lived there for awhile.”

“How long?”

“Long enough, evidently, to pick up a hint of an accent.”

“A hint?”

“Yes.”

“More than a hint, babe.”

I shrugged, looked at the table and gave in. “If you say so.” Then I arranged the placemats and silverware, one for him, one for me, all the while I did this I tried not to think about how it felt, him calling me “babe”. Unfortunately, I failed not to think of this and decided it felt nice.

When I was done arranging the table for our dinner, he asked, “How old are you?”

My eyes shot to his and I told him, “That’s a rude question to ask a woman.”

“It is?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It just is.”

“You older than you look?”

“Probably.” Or at least I hoped so.

“Should I guess?”

I felt my body get stiff and I declared, “Absolutely not.”

He gave me a grin and got closer. “Give me a ballpark figure.”

“Older than Becca, younger than your mother,” I told him.

His hand not dangling from the table came up and touched my shoulder. I looked down to see my shirt had again slid off. I rearranged it so it covered my shoulder, his hand fell away and then I glared at him.

“That’s quite a range,” he commented and I shrugged then he said, “You look thirty,” well, that was good, “you act ninety.”

I stiffened then leaned toward him. “I don’t act ninety.”

“Honey, it was possible, I’d think you were born two centuries ago.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means you’re uptight.”

I leaned in closer and snapped, “I’m not uptight!”

He grinned again. “Totally uptight.”

“I’m not uptight,” I repeated.

“Don’t know what to make of you,” he said, his eyes moving down my torso to my lap and he finished with, “contradiction.”

“What does that mean?” I asked but I really shouldn’t have and I knew it.

His eyes came back to mine. “It means you look one way, you act another.”

I leaned in closer. “And what does that mean?”

He leaned in closer too and we were nearly nose to nose. “It means a woman who owns those jeans, those boots, that shirt, deep down, is not uptight.”

“That’s right, I’m not uptight,” I snapped and then jumped when two bottles of beer hit the table.

I looked up to see a waitress standing there, tray under her arm, white t-shirt, jeans, ash blonde hair in a ponytail, pretty mountain fresh face, no makeup.

“Hey Max,” she said.

“Hey Trudy,” Max replied.

“Hey,” she said to me then she smiled.

“Hi,” I replied, not smiling.

Her smile got bigger and without leaving menus she walked away.

I looked at the beer and Max, thankfully, moved away, grabbed both, put one in front of me and took a pull off his.

“Is that for me?” I asked and his eyes came to me around his beer bottle then he dropped his hand.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t order that.”

“I did.”

He did? When?

I decided not to ask and informed him, “I don’t drink lager.”

“What?”

I dipped my head to the beer. “I said, I don’t drink lager.”

“What do you drink?”

“Ale, bitter, stout.”

“So, you’re sayin’ you don’t drink American beer, you drink English beer.”

“There are lagers that aren’t American. Heineken. Stella. Beck’s. In fact,” I went on informatively, “I think lager was invented by the Germans. In fact, I think beer, on the whole, was invented by the Germans.” I didn’t actually know this for a fact, I was just guessing.

“Jesus,” he muttered, dropping his head.

“What?”

He looked back at me. “Duchess, you can argue about anything.”

“No I can’t.”

“So, now you’re arguin’ about not arguing?”

I decided to be quiet.

Max twisted and shouted, “Trudy!”

Trudy turned from the table she was standing at, hands up, notepad in one, pencil in the other, table of tourists interrupted in mid-order and she shouted back, “What?”

“You got any ale?” Max asked and I shrunk into the booth.

“Ale?” Trudy asked back.

“Ale.”

“I think so, sure.”

“Get the Duchess here one, will you?” he called, dipping his head toward me.

Her eyes slid to me, she smiled and shouted, “Sure thing.”

At the same time I leaned forward and hissed, “Max!”

He turned back to me and asked, “What?”

“Don’t call me Duchess in front of Trudy.”

He grinned and replied, “All right, you tell me how old you are, I won’t call you Duchess in front of Trudy.”

I looked at the ceiling and asked, “Why? Why me, Lord? What did I do?”

My body went stiff and my chin jerked down when I felt Max’s fingers curl around the side of my neck and I saw that he’d gotten close. Not only did I see he’d gotten close, his face had grown soft and he looked amused and the combination was phenomenal. So phenomenal, I held my breath.

His eyes dropped to my mouth and my lungs started burning.

“Christ, you’re cute,” he muttered.

“Max!” I heard a man yell, Max’s head turned and I let out my breath.

Then Max muttered under his, “Fuck.”

I looked into the restaurant to see a tall man with a handsome, open, boyish face, light brown hair and a lanky frame headed our way. He was smiling.

At his side walked a tall woman, thin and utterly beautiful in a very cool way. Flawless skin. Long, ebony hair, perfectly straight and gleaming, parted severely and then pulled back just as severely in a ponytail at her nape. She also wore no makeup. She had on almost the same thing as Becca this morning except her poofy vest was less poofy and was a muted, sage green and her shirt wasn’t a thermal, it was long sleeved, ribbed and dusky blue. She and the man were holding bottles of beer, Coors Light to be precise.

Her eyes were on Max and she was not smiling.

Then her eyes slid to me and for some bizarre reason her expression turned glacial.

“Max, didn’t know you were back in town,” the man remarked sociably as they made it to our table and stopped.

Max slid out of the booth and shook his hand. “Harry.”

Harry looked at me and greeted, “Hey.”

“Hello,” I replied.

“Nina, this is Harry,” Max said then jerked his head to the woman and I noticed Max was also not smiling, “and this is Shauna.”

Shauna? Shauna with a U of the password on Max’s computer? No wonder her look was glacial.

Oh my God.

“Hello, Shauna,” I said, trying to cover my surprise and discomfort.

Her eyes grazed over me and she said to the wall at my side, “Hello.”

“Man, it’s packed tonight,” Harry noted, looking behind him. “They’re clearing our table, you mind if we hang here with you while they do?”

Then without allowing Max to answer, he shoved our coats and my purse to the side and slid in the booth opposite me. Shauna’s entire face grew so tight I thought it’d split open but Harry just grabbed her hand and pulled her in, oblivious to her state of mind. Or maybe he didn’t know his partner’s name was the password on Max’s computer and all that implied.

I looked up at Max and saw just his mouth had grown tight but his face had grown that scary dark I’d seen the first night I met him. Nevertheless, without a word he slid in beside me.

“So, Nina, you come back with Max?” Harry asked me.

“Back?” I asked him.

“Yeah,” Harry said, grinning a somewhat goofy grin.

“Um…” I replied, answering his confusing question the only way I could, “no.”

“Nina rented the house,” Max told Harry and Harry nodded.

“Yeah, fuckin’ great house,” Harry remarked then took a drink of his beer.

“It is,” I agreed, not knowing what to do in this situation and hoping the icicles Shauna was so obviously willing to shoot out her eyes and pierce my flesh wouldn’t actually form.

“Pretty unbelievable, Max built it himself,” Harry said.

I stopped trying not to look at Shauna without looking like I was trying not to look at Shauna and my eyes shot to Harry.

“I’m sorry?”

“The A-Frame, Max built it himself from the ground up,” Harry informed me and my eyes moved to Max.

“You did?” I breathed, actually breathed. Then again, I was surprised. And impressed.

“Designed it too,” Harry went on before Max, who’d turned his head to me, could reply.

“He did not,” Shauna put in coldly and I looked back at them.

“Well, Rudy helped,” Harry grinned, seemingly impervious to her frosty demeanor. “He looked over the plans.”

“Rudy’s an architect,” Shauna told me with great emphasis on her last word. “He more than helped.”

I decided Shauna seemed kind of like a bitch.

“Still,” I said, “building it, that’s –”

Shauna cut me off. “He didn’t totally build it.”

“Yeah, those windows would be hard to get in all by himself, but the rest of it –” Harry said.

Shauna looked at Harry. “He didn’t do the wiring.”

Harry looked at Max. “I thought you did.”

Again before Max could reply, Shauna put in, “Not all of it.”

Before anything more could be said, my eyes on Shauna, I swiftly and firmly declared, “Doesn’t matter, laying a single stone to create that beautiful house would be impressive. The whole place is perfect.”

Shauna’s eyes locked with mine and we went into stare down. The stare down was interrupted by Max sliding his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side. Both Shauna and I broke contact, me because I was shocked at his familiar hold, Shauna because she was clearly infuriated by it.

I tipped my head back to look at Max to see his head was tilted down to look at me.

“You think my house is beautiful?” he asked softly.

I was struck by something in his eyes, something intense and mesmerizing, and the restaurant faded away.

“Well… yes, because it is,” I replied just as softly.

“Hey, you’re English,” Harry butted in and I watched up close as Max’s jaw hardened and his eyes sliced to Harry.

I looked at Harry too and unlike Max I was glad, for my sanity mostly, that Harry had butted into our little moment. It was a nice little moment and it made me feel warm all over, something I knew I shouldn’t feel.

“Not exactly,” I said to Harry, “I just have a hint of an accent because I live there.”

“Whoa!” Harry burst out and such was his surprise at this news his body slammed back into the booth. “Really?”

“Yes.”

Harry’s eyes darted between Max and I and he asked, “You live in England, how did you two hook up?”

“Long story,” Max’s gravelly voice replied in a way that said that particular long story was not going to be told now or ever to Harry but more than likely especially to Shauna.

Harry belatedly took the hint and asked me instead, “What do you do in England?”

“I’m a solicitor.”

“A what?” Harry asked.

“It’s what the English call an attorney,” I explained and I felt Max’s hand tighten on my shoulder.

“Cool!” Harry exclaimed. “Like, ‘Order in the court!’ and ‘I object!’”

“Not exactly, I’m not a barrister, I’m a solicitor. I don’t often see court.”

“Come again?” Harry asked, looking somewhat adorably confused.

It was then I decided that Harry was a bit of a goof but I liked him.

“It’s different there,” I explained. “I’m not a litigator. I don’t try cases in court very frequently and when I do they’re usually minor ones, like small claims. Mostly, I write letters and such.”

“Bummer,” Harry muttered, looking crestfallen.

I grinned at him and said, “They’re good letters and some of them are really long.”

Max chuckled, Harry grinned and Shauna was still trying to get her eyes to form icicle daggers.

Suddenly Shauna’s gaze shifted to Max and she asked, “You talk to Dodd?”

For some reason this made Harry’s good-natured demeanor slip a notch and he muttered, “Shauna.”

But at the same time Max answered, “Nope.”

“You should talk to him,” Shauna advised.

“Yeah, you’ve told me that a fuckin’ hundred times,” Max said, his voice kind of scary, not overtly so but the threat was definitely there.

Shauna ignored it, looked at me and announced, apropos of nothing, “Max’s Dad gave him that land.”

“Really?” I asked, puzzled at the turn of conversation.

“It’s great land. Beautiful,” Harry tried to lighten the mood again. “Thirty whole acres of God’s country.”

“Yeah,” Shauna answered me, foiling Harry’s attempt to lighten the mood. “He didn’t buy it or anything.”

Max’s arm tightened around me, bringing me closer as I murmured the only response I could come up with, “Oh.”

“No way, considering it’s worth millions and he doesn’t have that,” Shauna went on.

I blinked at her in surprise, not only that Max owned millions of dollars worth of land but the nasty way she shared that fact as Harry whispered, “Shauna.”

“Can’t afford the taxes on it, that’s why he rents the house,” Shauna went on and I stared.

Max’s entire body tightened, I sat up straighter in the curve of his arm and Harry hissed, “Shauna!”

She shrugged, her gaze skittered over Max as if afraid of catching his eye and she muttered, “Just sayin’, she’s with him, she likes that house, she should know.”

“Maybe we –” I started to change the subject but Shauna plucked up her courage and looked at Max.

“Saw you with Becca today.”

This was an accusation. I knew it because her gaze slid to me to catch my reaction.

And, frankly, I’d had enough. Shauna wasn’t kind of a bitch, she was a bitch. I didn’t think I’d ever met a bigger one.

“Yes, Becca’s lovely,” I announced, curling into Max’s body but not taking my eyes from Shauna. “I met her this morning, she came by when Max was making me breakfast.”

When I mentioned Max making me breakfast, the cold snap emanating from Shauna reduced the temperature of the entire restaurant by a whole ten degrees. It was a wonder I didn’t shiver.

I ignored it and the frosty look on her face and looked up at Max. He was scowling at Shauna so, to get his attention, I placed my hand on his chest. I was interrupted from feeling the fact that his chest was as hard as his bicep and fortunately also interrupted from the instant impulse to explore that feeling further when his chin dipped down to look at me.

Yes, his face was dark and scary. He was angry, maybe even furious.

I ignored that too and said quietly, “I don’t want to seem ungrateful but my oatmeal was kind of… too sweet.”

He wasn’t following, likely because he was too angry. “Too sweet?”

I pressed my hand against his chest, cuddled closer and whispered, “Too sweet. Four sugars? Um…” I trailed off as his face cleared and he grinned.

“I’ll make it with three tomorrow, Duchess,” he whispered back.

“More like, one.”

His brows went up. “One?” I nodded and his arm tightened again but he also pulled me up his body as he leaned down so my face was closer to his and still whispering, he said, “That’s the way you like it, that’s the way you’ll get it.”

I was so busy watching his mouth form the words and experiencing feeling my front pressed to his hard body at the same time I was wrapped tight in his arm, I almost missed Shauna making a weird noise in the back of her throat.

But I didn’t miss it. Neither did Max.

My eyes went to his, I smiled at him and he smiled back. His smile and his eyes in that proximity weren’t phenomenal, they were sensational.

The loud thump of a bottle hitting the table made me jump and I turned.

“Ale,” Trudy announced, a smile firm on her face, her eyes on me. She dipped her head to the new beer on the table then she looked at Harry. “Table’s ready, Harry.” And without sparing Shauna a glance, she turned and walked away again, without leaving menus.

“We’ll leave you alone,” Harry said and I noticed he didn’t look happy-go-lucky anymore. He looked pale and maybe a little frightened.

Because of that, I probably shouldn’t have said what I said next. But for some reason I couldn’t help myself.

No, I knew the reason. Because Shauna was far more of a bitch than Harry was a good guy and she deserved it, not only for saying what she said and for obviously, and in an ugly way, pining for Max, but for being with Harry at all. I didn’t know him but I knew he deserved better.

Therefore I snuggled my head into Max’s shoulder, wrapped my arm around his belly and invited, “Why don’t you two eat with us? It’d be great, getting to know some people from town.”

Harry grew paler, Max grunted in a way that made me think he was struggling with laughter and Shauna’s eyes narrowed.

“We’re good with our table,” Harry muttered. “You two look like you’d like some private time.”

“You sure?” I asked graciously.

“Yeah,” Harry answered.

“Well, maybe we can get together some other time,” I offered and looked at Shauna. “Does Max have your number? I’ll call you.”

Before Shauna could say anything, Max’s voice rumbled from behind me but he sounded funny, like he was now choking back laughter. “I’ve got her number.”

I lurched up a bit and doing my best imitation of Becca I cheerfully cried, “Great!”

“See you around,” Harry said as he and Shauna slid out of the booth.

Shauna didn’t say anything.

Harry gave us a half-wave as he walked away, I waved back and Shauna didn’t even glance in our direction.

They were five feet away when Max got my attention by curling me into his body front to front, so close I was almost in his lap.

“Enjoyed the show, Duchess,” he muttered, his other arm sliding around me and he still looked amused.

I pushed against his chest and muttered back, “Show’s over, Max.”

He ignored me and held firm. “Though, it was unnecessary.”

I quit pushing against his chest and looked in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I know your computer password is her name but she’s just… not very nice.”

“She’s a bitch,” Max declared bluntly.

“Well…” I drew the word out and then let it hang, allowing the way I said it to speak for itself.

“And her name is my computer password because she set up the computer and the password.”

I tipped my head to the side. “So, she and you –?”

Max cut me off by informing me, “Yeah, I used to fuck her,” my body jolted at his frankness but he kept talking, “but it’s been over awhile.”

“You should change your password.”

“Not exactly a priority so I haven’t got ‘round to it.”

“I’ll do it for you,” I offered.

His arms gave me a squeeze and he grinned. “What’ll you chose?”

Before I could stop my mouth from forming the words, I said, “Shebitchfromhell666.”

He burst out laughing, giving me another squeeze while he did it.

When he controlled his laughter, he looked back at me. “That’s kinda long, honey.”

“Maybe so, but you won’t forget it.”

His face got closer when he murmured, “Don’t figure I will.”

I realized where I was and what I was about and I pressed against his chest again.

“Let go,” I whispered.

“Like you here,” he whispered back, something tingled someplace private, it felt altogether too good and I pulled in breath.

“I have to use the restroom,” I kind of lied. I didn’t have to use the facilities. I needed to blow my nose.

“Run away and remind yourself to be uptight?” he asked, again bluntly, and I felt my brows draw together.

“No. I need to blow my nose.”

He looked at me a second, seeming at a loss then said, “Do it here.”

I wasn’t going to blow my nose at the table in front of him.

“I forgot tissues,” I lied outright this time.

He grinned again and declared, “You’re so full of shit.”

What? Did he have x-ray eyes and could see in my purse?

“I’m not full of shit,” I returned and his face dipped close again.

His arms got tight before he whispered, “You like where you are just as much as I like you here.”

Before I could say a word, his hold loosened and he slid out of the booth, taking me with him and setting me on my feet.

“Hurry up, the food’ll be here in a minute,” he said when he let me go.

I looked at the table then at him. “We haven’t ordered yet.”

“Yeah we have.”

“I haven’t even seen a menu!” I said, my voice raised.

“You’re gettin’ a buffalo burger with jack cheese and onion rings, just like me.”

I shook my head, those short, jerky shakes and I wasn’t certain I’d ever really done that before but I seemed to do it a lot around Max.

“But –”

“Go blow your nose, Duchess.”

“But –”

“You a vegetarian?”

“No.”

“Then trust me.”

I leaned toward him and stated on a hiss, “You’re impossible.”

He leaned toward me, grinning, and returned, “And you’re cuter than hell.”

“Don’t call me cute when I’m angry!” I exclaimed, now totally loud.

His eyes went over my shoulder before coming back to me then he asked, “You want the whole restaurant in on our conversation?”

I looked in the direction his eyes pointed and saw a lot of people, including Trudy, Sarah, Harry and Shauna as well as others were watching.

Then I turned back to Max, gave him a glare which would have melted paint off the walls but didn’t appear to affect him in the slightest and I flounced (yes, flounced but I decided I could forgive myself for flouncing as it was definitely a flouncing moment) in the direction where I hoped there would be restrooms.

Luckily, I was correct.

Once there, I blew my nose, washed my hands and looked in the mirror wishing I’d brought my purse so I could fix my lipstick.

Then I pulled in breath through my nose, rested my hands against the sink and whispered to my reflection, “What on earth am I doing?”

You’re living your life, Neenee Bean, Charlie said into my head, he sounded pleased and I watched my eyes go wide in the mirror.

Then I looked behind me. Then I looked under the two stalls behind me. The room was empty, except for me.

“I’m going insane,” I muttered. “Going insane in the snowy mountains like Jack Nicholson in The Shining except without the spooky hotel.”

No one replied because no one was there.

I decided being alone wasn’t good. I was hearing voices when I was alone. Charlie’s voice and as much as I wanted to hear Charlie’s voice, would have paid every penny I had, sold everything I owned, made a deal with the devil to hear Charlie’s voice, I didn’t want to hear it in my head.

I walked back into the restaurant smiling at Sarah and Trudy along the way, noticing Harry avoid my eyes and Shauna stare daggers at me and then I looked at Max.

He was eating an onion ring while he slid out of the booth.

“I see you didn’t wait for me,” I noted, my eyes on his chewing mouth then I slid into the booth.

“I ate a ring, Duchess, relax,” he returned as he sat in the booth beside me.

“Whatever,” I muttered and looked at my food of which there was a lot. The burger itself could feed four people. All of it was in a red, oval, plastic basket protected by a sheet of thin, white, wax paper.

It looked utterly delicious.

I reached for the ketchup.

“Got burgers in England?” Max asked.

“Yes,” I answered, squirting ketchup in a pile by the onion rings and not sharing with him that English burgers were not much to write home about.

“Buffalo burgers?”

“At gourmet burger places, yes,” I answered, dipping in a ring.

“Babe?” Max called and I looked at him, onion ring halfway to my mouth. “Prepare to be dazzled,” he finished on a grin then turned to his food.

I turned to mine.

He wasn’t wrong, the food was so good, I was definitely dazzled.

***

“Sleep,” I muttered, wandering drowsily into the A-Frame and sliding my coat down my arms as Max flipped on a light.

“Honey, I told you, you shouldn’t have had the hot fudge sundae,” Max said from behind me and I heard the door close.

He was right and he was wrong. The burger and onion rings more than filled me up but I saw the hot fudge sundae slide by on Trudy’s tray going to someone else’s table and I couldn’t help myself. They didn’t have hot fudge in England not like they had at home.

And anyway, I was on vacation.

Even so, the hot fudge sundae was definitely overkill.

But it wasn’t the hot fudge sundae making me drowsy. It was the fact that we spent the last two hours sitting in a bar called Drake’s a block down from the restaurant, listening to Max’s friend Josh play guitar and sing while Max drank Budweiser and I drank Fat Tire. Josh was good, really good but even so I ended up slouched into Max’s side, his arm around me, my head on his shoulder. I knew I shouldn’t be slouching with my body resting against his and my head on his shoulder but I couldn’t help it. It was comfortable, the beer tasted great but was mellowing me out, the music was nice, my belly was super full and I was tired.

I hooked my coat and purse in the closet, closed the door and turned to Max.

“Who gets the bed tonight?” I asked and he walked up to me and stopped, toe to toe, and I was too tired to back away.

His hand wrapped around the back of my head and he pulled me toward him and I was too tired to fight that too.

Then he kissed my forehead.

I blinked at his throat as his sweet kiss hit me like a freight train. It felt good, better than any kiss I’d ever had and it wasn’t even on my lips.

“You go on up,” he muttered against my forehead, dropped his hand, turned and walked away, shrugging off his coat.

I stared at his back and decided tomorrow I was definitely out of there. I might not even go to Denver. I might drive straight to Kansas City.

I was not, however, going to pass up sleeping in his bed that was how tired I was.

Therefore, not giving him the chance to change his mind, I called, “Goodnight.”

“’Night, Duchess,” he called back, draping his coat on a dining room chair and not looking at me.

I turned and hurried as fast as my tired feet would take me up the stairs.

I rooted my stuff out of my suitcase, washed and moisturized my face in the bathroom, brushed my teeth and changed into my nightgown. I left my stuff in the bathroom, deciding I’d pack it in the morning.

I opened the door, checked if the coast was clear, and then hurried to the bed.

Even as tired as I was, the lights were on downstairs; Amazing Looking Max was in the house; he’d bought me dinner, a hot fudge sundae and at least four beers during what seemed a lot like a date even though we came home together, and it was a date I enjoyed, even when we were clashing or, maybe, especially when we were clashing, so I didn’t expect sleep to come quickly.

I was asleep within minutes. Out like a light.

That was why I didn’t feel Max sliding into bed beside me fifteen minutes later.