The Gamble

Chapter Seven The Love of His Life

“Nina, honey, wake up.”

My body was being shaken gently at the hip and Max’s voice was coming at me.

I struggled up through the fog of sleep, turned my head on the pillow and blinked at him. He was wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms and, for some reason, he was sitting on the side of the bed and had a carefully blank expression on his face.

“What?” I asked, still sleepy but also vaguely alarmed at his blank look. I didn’t think I’d ever seen Max look blank.

“Baby,” he said quietly before he continued with three words that made my drowsiness instantly disappear and my head figuratively explode. “Your father’s here.”

I shot up to an elbow and repeated, a lot louder this time, “What?”

Then I didn’t give him the chance to answer. I threw back the covers and twisted my lower body around Max, got to my feet and stomped (and obviously I could forgive myself for stomping this time) toward the stairs.

“Nina,” Max called but I didn’t stop. I just tramped irately down the winding stairs.

Niles had phoned my father. He didn’t talk to me. He talked to my father.

Which was the very definition of Niles not listening to me. I told him my father had no place in my life but my father kept his place in it and he did this by keeping in touch with Niles. Niles had a great relationship with his family and therefore he never understood why I refused to talk to my father mainly because he never listened during any of the vast amounts of times I explained it to him.

And my father was here. Here. He’d dropped everything and flown halfway around the world to stick his nose into something that was none his business. And I knew why he did it. Therefore, not only the fact that he was here but why he was here was absolutely, one hundred percent infuriating.

I hit the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner, seeing my father standing tall and erect wearing an expensive suit, shiny shoes and a camelhair overcoat. His fair hair was neatly trimmed with only a hint of gray, his cheeks were smooth and his face was the face of a man ten years younger than him. And even though I knew he’d recently made the journey I’d made not long ago, he looked fresh as a daisy.

When I approached him, he didn’t look at me. He was deep in the study of Cotton’s pictures.

“Dad,” I snapped.

“Are these Cottons?” he asked, still not looking at me.

“Dad!” I snapped louder.

“That one was at the V&A, I remember the frame. Unusual frame, perfect for that picture.”

“Dad!” I shouted and his head turned to me, his eyes did a sweep of my body in my nightie then they moved over my shoulder.

I looked over my shoulder too, to see Max there, now wearing jeans and still pulling down a t-shirt but his feet were bare.

Again my father didn’t greet me, didn’t address me at all.

Instead he said to Max, “May I have a word with my daughter in private?”

Max didn’t answer or I didn’t give him the chance to mainly because I stomped to the door.

“No, you may not,” I announced, opening the door and standing in the cool air that rushed in looking at my father. “But you can leave.”

“Nina,” Dad said.

“Go,” I said back.

Dad walked toward me and stopped. “We need to talk.”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

“Niles telephoned.”

“Yes, I guessed that.”

“Therefore, we need to talk.”

“No, we do not,” I reiterated.

Dad gave up on me and looked back to Max. “Really, would you mind?”

Max’s eyes were on me but when my father addressed him he looked at Dad, planted his feet, crossed his arms on his chest and said, “Yeah, I’d mind.”

If I wasn’t so incensed, I would have rushed across the floor and kissed Max hard. Unfortunately, I was incensed.

“Dad, go,” I demanded.

“Nina, listen to me,” Dad said instead of leaving. “You’re throwing your life away.”

I shook my head and said, “No, no I’m not. I was but evidence is suggesting that I’m not anymore.”

Dad looked to Max then glanced quickly around the living room then back to me, his eyes settling on my bruised cheekbone and his brows came up before he asked with only partially veiled derision, “Honestly?”

“Go,” I repeated.

“This isn’t you,” my father told me.

“You don’t know me,” I told him the truth.

“Niles is a good man, works hard. He’s from a good family.”

“He’s got money, that’s what you’re saying.”

“I’m saying he’s a good man and I’m reminding you about the fact that you haven’t chosen many of those in your past, in fact, none at all.”

My hand itched to slap him which was surprising seeing as, outside of shoving Damon, I’d never acted out my anger physically on another human being but I managed to hold myself in check.

“Go.”

“You’re repeating a pattern, Nina, as your father –”

But at his words and their implication, I was again seeing red and I shrieked, “How… bloody… dare you!”

Dad leaned slightly toward me and returned, “I’m being honest for your own good.”

“You’re talking about Max, a man you don’t even bloody know.”

“Yes, but I know you.”

“No you don’t!” I shouted.

“Think about this, Nina. Your life, what you’d be throwing away.”

“Go,” I snapped.

“This is,” his hand, palm up, gestured around, “unseemly. May I remind you, you’re engaged.”

“I’m not, I broke up with Niles.”

“You were engaged to him less than a week ago and you’re standing in your nightwear, a bruise on your cheek with a strange man in attendance.”

It was my turn to lean into him and I did, sneering and liberally lacing my words with grave emphasis. “Firstly, Max isn’t a ‘strange man in attendance’ considering this is his house. Secondly, are you serious? You are lecturing me about what’s seemly?”

“Nina –”

“Sorry, but wasn’t it you who was fucking around on Mom when she was pregnant with me?”

“Nina, for God’s sake, that’s hardly the point here.”

“Yes? So, it’s okay for you to sleep with another woman when your wife is pregnant then leave her and your child all alone weeks after I was born?”

“You grew up with your mother, hearing her side of things.”

I slammed the door and crossed my arms on my chest, putting out a foot and inviting, “Well, I expect this will be interesting. Do share, Dad, how is it okay that you cheat on Mom when she’s pregnant, leave us both when I’m a newborn and we never hear one word from you for seven years? Tell me, how is that okay?”

“Nina –”

“And, also,” I cut in, “enlighten me about how that’s okay and me breaking up with Niles and living my life, which is none of you bloody business I might add, something you can’t declare ignorance of since I told you to your face at Charlie’s funeral I never wanted to lay eyes on you again in my life, tell me, how this is not okay?”

“I’m glad you brought up Charlie,” Dad said.

“Yes, pray tell, Dad, why are you glad I brought up Charlie?”

“Think, Nina.” He did that sweeping gesture with his hand taking in specifically Max, and then his eyes locked on me, his voice filled with obvious derision now. “Think about what Charlie would say about this.”

I didn’t think, my mind was blank, my fury so immense, I took two, long strides to him and slapped him with all my might across his smoothly shaven cheek.

His head whipped to the side but suddenly I found my wrists imprisoned, pulled down and crossed in front of me, my back was pressed to Max and Max was pulling us both away.

“Out,” Max growled.

“You dare,” I whispered to my father over Max’s growl.

“Get out,” Max repeated.

“Nina –” my father began, his hand to his cheek, his face filled with shock.

“If Claire wasn’t such a good woman, I’d wonder if Charlie was switched at birth and Charlie would have wondered too,” I declared.

I watched my father’s eyes narrow. “He was my son.”

“You forgot that when his legs were blown off!” I shouted.

“Get out,” Max ordered. “Now, before I put you out.”

Dad ignored Max and glared at me. “Charlie would –”

But I interrupted him. “You have no idea what Charlie would or wouldn’t. Charlie was good to the core. You have no idea what it means to be that way. Don’t you dare tell me what Charlie would do.”

Dad opened his mouth to speak but Max got there before him. “I’m not gonna say it again.”

At this threat, Dad looked over my shoulder then back at me and he declared, “I’m staying at the hotel in town, Nina. This isn’t done. We need to talk, calmly, if you can manage that.”

Max let me go but pulled me back and stepped around me, moving toward Dad. Dad’s glance shot toward him briefly then he walked swiftly to the door.

He opened it, stopped in it and looked at me. “I’ll be at the hotel.”

“Enjoy your stay,” I snapped nastily.

Dad’s gaze rested on me a moment, then he walked out the door.

I didn’t watch him go, I stomped to the kitchen. When I made it there I snatched up my phone from the counter and hit the button to turn it on.

“Nina,” Max said from close and I knew he was close because I felt his hand sliding along the small of my back.

I didn’t look up, just lifted a hand, one finger pointed skyward and with the other hand went to my contacts, found Niles and hit the button to connect.

“Honey, don’t you think you should calm down first?” Max suggested and I could feel the reassuring heat of his body but I was focused on the fireplace across the room, staring at it like I could ignite a fire in its grate with my eyes.

I didn’t answer Max. I didn’t want to calm down. I wanted this to be done and to do it I wanted what I had to say to be said.

I heard the phone ring once then twice and on the third ring Niles answered.

“Hello.”

“Dad was just here.”

“Nina?”

Nina? Was he mad?

“Yes, Nina!” I shouted into the phone. “What other American would call, informing you with barely controlled, therefore unmistakable fury that her father just paid her a visit?”

“Listen, I can hear you’re perturbed but –”

“Yes, I’m perturbed, Niles, I’m very perturbed and if you tell me you have to go into a meeting, I swear –”

“Not a meeting but I have a client waiting –”

“Whatever!” I yelled. “A client is not more important than you listening to me, and Niles I want you, for once in your life, to listen to me. We’re over. Do you understand? Over!”

His astonishing reply: “We’ll talk when you get home.”

I saw lights flashing in front of my eyes but I still managed to snap, “Oh no we won’t. We’re never talking again. Anything I left in your house you can give to a charity shop.”

“Seriously, I want to talk about this, it’s just that now’s not a good time.”

“I know now’s not a good time,” I told him. “Reason number two why we’re over. I’m not bloody important enough for you to take the time to listen to me. Reason number one, just in case you’re curious, is that even when you do you don’t actually listen.”

“I listen.”

“Yes? If you listened then why did my father fly to Colorado to have this morning’s infinitely loving father daughter chat?”

“He’s just concerned that you’re not making the right –”

“He’s not concerned about that, Niles. He’s concerned about my access to your trust fund and the cachet he’ll lose when he can’t link his family’s name to yours.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“It’s not only fair, it’s bloody true.”

“You’ve always been too hard on him.”

My vision covered in shiny, sparkling, white lights, I took the phone from my ear, looked at the ceiling and screeched, “Oh my God! Why am I even having this conversation?”

Max’s fingers dug into my hip and he murmured, “Honey.”

Again I didn’t answer Max. I just put the phone back to my ear and said, “We’re over.”

“Who was that?” Niles asked but I didn’t answer him either. I brought my phone down, touched the screen to end the call then threw the phone on the counter with a clatter.

“Nina, please, baby, look at me,” Max entreated putting pressure on my waist but I yanked from his hold, put my fingers to my engagement ring, tugged it off and then hurled it with all my might across the room.

I heard the tinkling sound of its bumpy landing but I simply picked up the phone again.

Max’s hand came to my wrist, circling it with strong fingers and stopping my phone’s progress so I finally looked at him. He looked a contradictory mixture of concerned and amused.

“Duchess, I’m guessin’ he got the message.”

“You’d guess wrong,” I informed him. “Niles doesn’t pay much attention and when he does he hears what he wants to hear. And anyway, I’m not calling him, I’m calling my mother.”

Max gave me a look, squeezed my wrist and then released it, muttering, “I’ll make coffee.”

“I’ll take mine with a shot of tequila,” I snapped and watched him press his lips together and move away.

Then I touched and slid my finger on the screen on my phone until I found Mom and then pressed to connect.

She answered on the second ring. “You’re an early bird today.”

“Dad was just here.”

There was complete silence.

Then a screeched, “What?”

“Yes. He. Was. Just. Here. Spreading his goodwill and love all around Max’s entryway. It’s a wonder there aren’t cherubs flying around sprinkling rose petals and rainbows erupting through the windows, an aftermath of his delightful visit.”

I heard the sink go off and then Max’s chuckle.

I turned to glare at him. He grinned at me then opened the top of the coffeemaker to pour the water in.

“What was he doing there?” Mom asked.

“Niles called him.”

“Why on earth would he do that?” Mom sounded justifiably flabbergasted.

“I don’t know. Because he’s Niles?” I sounded justifiably irate.

“That’s just… that’s… I don’t even know what that is,” Mom stammered.

“It gets better.”

“Oh no.” Now she sounded anxious.

“Dad said he’s staying in town. He said, ‘this isn’t done’.”

“Oh no.” Now she sounded panicked.

“Oh yes.”

“What are you going to do?” Now she sounded hysterical.

“Well, the hotel is a pretty building, so I’d rather not set explosives.” Max chuckled again and I glared at him again while he flipped the lid down on the coffeemaker and then touched the switch.

“So, with that not being an option, what are you going to do?” Mom asked.

“Ignore him.”

“He’s hard to ignore.”

“Yes, well, by a cruel twist of fate, I am his daughter. Two can play at stubborn.”

Mom was quiet then she said softly, “Sweetie, I’m worried.”

“Why?”

“Because I got that picture.”

“What?”

“The e-mail you sent,” she said. “You look happy and he’s, Max… he’s… well, he’s gorgeous.” No doubt about it, she was right about that. “And, sweetheart, he looks happy too.”

My anger took a hit and warmth started to slide through me.

“Mom –”

“I haven’t seen you look like that…” she paused, “heck, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look like that.”

“Mom –”

“I don’t want your Dad messing that up for you.”

“But –”

“And he will. If he can, he’ll do it.”

“It’ll be okay.”

“You’re sure? Because I’m not so sure.”

“Mom, I really think I made my point this morning.”

“How? Because when that man gets something in his head –”

I was watching Max who’d taken down some mugs and just spied the new sugar bowl. He was grinning at it as he slid it toward him on the counter.

I was seeing this and I wasn’t seeing it. This was because something had locked inside me, something unpleasant and ugly.

“I struck him,” I whispered and Max’s head came up and twisted toward me when he heard my tone.

“Sorry?” Mom asked in my ear but my eyes connected with Max’s.

“I hit him,” I said more to Max than to Mom.

“You hit Lawrence?” Mom asked but I was staring at Max who took two strides across the room to me as I dropped the hand with my phone from my ear.

“I hit him, Max,” I whispered as his hands came to my hips then slid around and he pulled my body into his.

“Honey,” he whispered back.

“I’m not like this,” I said. “I don’t… I’ve never –”

“It was an extreme situation,” Max broke in gently.

“That doesn’t excuse –”

One of his arms stayed around me but the other hand came to the side of my neck. “Duchess, hate to say this, but your Dad’s a dick.”

“But –”

“I was havin’ trouble not layin’ a hand on him.”

“But –”

“He was in my house actin’ like that, never met me, didn’t show you an ounce of respect.”

“But that doesn’t mean –”

“Then he brought your brother into it.”

“I know, still –”

His arm gave me a squeeze as did his hand, he bent his head toward me and said, “You didn’t hurt him, baby and, honest to God, he got what he deserved.”

“You don’t think I’m –” I started but I got another squeeze in two places.

“No, I don’t think you’re anything but what you are and most of that’s good.”

I felt the pressure release in my insides, the warmth seeping through but my eyes still narrowed when I asked, “Most of it?”

“Duchess, remind me never to get you that riled. You’re a handful when you’re angry but you’re hell on wheels when you’re seriously pissed.”

I was beginning to get slightly “pissed” when I heard faraway laughter coming from my phone. Then my eyes got wide and I jerked the phone to my ear.

“Mom, God, I’m so sorry, I forgot –”

She was still laughing when she cut me off by asking, “He calls you Duchess?”

Max was watching me talk and suddenly I was self-conscious. “He calls me that because he thinks I have an accent.”

“Sweetie, that’s because you do.”

“I don’t have an accent!” I snapped at Mom, Max threw his head back and laughed and he did it loud.

I glared at him.

He just kissed my forehead through his waning laughter, let me go and went to the fridge.

“Oh my,” Mom breathed in my ear, “he’s got an amazing laugh.”

She was right about that too.

“Mom –”

“I like him.”

I felt my eyes get wide again and I reminded her loudly, “You’ve never even met him!”

Max, his hand curled around the filled creamer, turned to me, lifting the creamer, shaking his head and looking like he wanted to laugh again. At the creamer, my conversation or something else that struck him funny, I didn’t know and at that moment didn’t care.

“I still like him,” Mom said in my ear.

“Mom –”

“I like the way he talks to you.”

I liked that too.

Still, I said, “Mom –”

“And it sounds like he was there when Lawrence was being Lawrence.”

“He was.”

“The whole time?”

I thought about it and realized he was, the whole time. Except for the first few moments, Max quickly dressed and was with me the instant he could get to me. He had my back the whole time, part of it literally.

“The whole time,” I said more quietly.

“And he called Lawrence the d-word,” Mom told me and I couldn’t help it, I giggled and so did Mom.

“Yes, he did,” I said.

“You’ve got to like a man who thinks Lawrence is the d-word.”

She was right about that too.

“Mom –”

“What’s he doing now?”

I watched as Max poured coffee.

“Making me coffee.”

“Steve does that for me too,” she told me contentedly. “Brings me a cup in bed nearly every morning.”

I looked at the floor and said, “That’s sweet Mom and I’m so glad you have that now. Anyway, enough of this. How’s Steve? Is he doing okay?”

“He’s Steve, never has a bad day, God love him.”

“And you do too,” I said softly.

“Yes, sweetie, lucky I woke up and saw what life had on offer for me.”

“Mom –”

“Hope, today, you woke up too.”

“Mom –”

“Have coffee with your mountain man hunk,” she urged. “I’ll let you go.”

I sighed and looked up when I saw Max’s bare feet on the floor close to mine. When I looked up, he was putting a mug of coffee on the counter by me, his eyes came to mine and he took a sip from his.

I looked at my coffee and it appeared to be just how I liked it.

I sighed again.

Then I said, “Thanks for listening, Mom.”

“Everything’s going to be okay,” she assured me more firmly than I would have expected, considering she’d sounded hysterical not minutes before at the prospect of my father being in town.

“I know,” I assured her back.

“Tell him I love his house. It’s beautiful.”

I looked away and murmured, “I’ll tell him.”

“Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too, Mom, bye.”

“Bye.”

Then I touched the screen to end the call.

“You’ll tell me what?” Max’s deep, gravelly voice called and my eyes to him.

I put down the phone, picked up my coffee and took a sip then said, still feeling self-conscious, “She likes your house.”

“What?”

“She thinks it’s beautiful.”

“How does she know what my house looks like?”

“I gave her the website.”

He grinned. Then he lifted his hand and tucked hair behind my ear.

This gesture was so sweet, it made more warmth flood through me at the same time it caused me to shiver and the clashing sensations caused me to go temporarily insane enough to blurt, “She likes you.”

His hand dropped and his brows drew together. “What?”

“Nothing,” I muttered then started to move way, saying, “You want break –”

But I was drawn back with an arm hooked around my waist.

When my head tipped back to look at him, Max asked, “She likes me?”

I decided the safest explanation was, “She likes that you call me Duchess.”

“That’s a weird thing to like.”

“Mom’s a bit nutty.”

“Not surprising,” he mumbled then he went on when my eyes started to narrow. “She turn into a hellion when she’s pissed too?”

I thought about this then I answered truthfully, “Yes, probably worse.”

“Steve her man?” Max asked and I nodded. “Poor Steve,” he muttered and I grinned.

His face changed, it was that soft I liked so much but there was something more, something much more and I felt the change somewhere deep, private and I held my breath for what was coming next.

He drew me even closer so our lower bodies were touching and he asked, “You okay?” I nodded but his arm gave me a squeeze. “Nina, I’m serious here, that was an intense fuckin’ scene. You okay?”

From nowhere I understood what else was in his face and when I understood it I realized why I didn’t recognize it. The only male who’d ever looked at me like that was Charlie and he was my brother so he was supposed to look at me like that in times like these.

It communicated a fierce sort of protection covered over with a tender mixture of worry and affection.

I couldn’t bear the hope it made me feel so I couldn’t witness it anymore. I dropped my head and fell forward so my forehead was resting on his chest and I curled my fingers on his bicep.

“I pretty much hate my Dad,” I whispered to his chest as his hand slid from my waist, up my back, to wrap around the back of my neck.

“Reason why, darlin’. I’m now gettin’ why you don’t talk about him.”

I nodded, my head moving on his chest then I admitted, “I hate it that you saw me that way, too.”

He gripped my neck and used it to pull me back.

When I looked at him, he asked, “Why?”

“It’s unattractive,” I answered, my voice soft and there was a tremor in it I couldn’t control which denoted a fear I didn’t want to admit but I still couldn’t hide. “And it isn’t nice.”

His hand at my neck gave me a squeeze, he put his coffee mug down and circled me with his other arm.

Then he ordered, “Put your arms around me, baby.”

I decided sharing time was over, so I suggested, “Max, we should make breakfast.”

He gave me a steely look that said clearly he wasn’t going to repeat his order so on a sigh I put my mug down too, pushed my hands under his arms and wrapped them around him.

“There was nothing unattractive about what I saw.”

“But I lost my temper,” I explained.

“You stuck up for yourself and then you stuck up for the memory of your brother. You didn’t take any shit, not even a little of it.” His face dipped close and he whispered, “That’s not unattractive, baby, that’s beautiful.”

My eyes filled with tears, my body melted into Max’s and the only thing I could think to say was, “Shut up, Max, you’re going to make me cry.”

He grinned a small grin, his head slightly slanted, he touched my lips in a light kiss then, regrettably, he pulled away.

“I had other plans for this mornin’, Duchess, and, much as it kills me to delay them a-fuckin’-gain, I want to take my time. We’ll have to save those for after we get Bitsy to the Station and then take her home.”

He might not have used a lot of words but all of them meant very frightening things since I had a pretty good idea what he meant by his “plans”. I couldn’t quite figure out what was most frightening so I picked what was safest.

“We?” I asked.

“We what?”

“We’re going to get Bitsy?”

His head gave a small jerk as if my question was surprising and he answered, “Yeah. Why?”

“I thought I’d stay home, read, maybe plot how I’ll drug and kidnap my father, drive him to the next state and dump him outside a Police Station with a note pinned to him saying that he killed JFK and was there to confess.”

“As worthwhile a way that is to spend your time, you’re comin’ with me to Bitsy’s.”

“Maybe Bitsy doesn’t want me to come,” I suggested halfheartedly for Bitsy lived in town and pretty much everyone in town had shown a rather healthy curiosity about me.

“Oh, Bitsy wants you to come, it was her idea,” Max informed me unsurprisingly.

That was what I was afraid of.

I sighed then I asked, “How much of a chance do I have of getting out of this?”

“Zip,” was his short, also unsurprising answer.

“Great,” I muttered, looking at his throat.

His arms gave me a squeeze and he called, “Duchess.”

I tipped my head back to look at him.

“She’ll love you,” he whispered.

Then, while I was processing his words, he kissed me. I forgot about Dad, Niles, Bitsy and his words.

I forgot about everything except the fact that his mouth was on mine, his tongue was in my mouth, the latter he could do amazing things with, I was in his arms and he was in mine.

When he seemed happy to keep making out in the kitchen, I was more than happy to let him do it and I took advantage of the fact that my arms were around him. I pulled up his shirt and slid both hands in.

Then I explored. And I liked what I felt, too much. So much, I moaned a little in his mouth and pressed closer.

If I could think, it might have dawned on me that Max just meant to make out in the kitchen. When I pressed in closer, the kiss grew deeper, wilder and his hand fisted in my nightie at the waist, bringing it up, while his other hand slid over my bottom.

I hadn’t had that in awhile, too long, and more importantly, it had never felt like that. In fact, it felt so good I moaned again, lost the ability to stand, gave him my weight and dug my nails in his back.

He growled into my mouth. I pressed my hips into his. His hand at my bottom slid up and then back down, this time in my panties.

That felt infinitely better.

“Max,” I breathed against his lips, liking his hand there a lot.

“Fuck, Duchess,” he growled against mine then repeated, “Fuck.”

His hand was moving over my behind and my head dropped forward, my lips against his neck, I touched my tongue there.

His lips went to my ear and his voice was even rougher when he asked, “You wet?”

I wasn’t thinking, couldn’t think, so, confused, I asked, “Sorry?”

“You wet for me?” His gruff words sounded in my ear and they made me shiver from top to toe in his arms and, if I hadn’t been wet before (which I was), his words would have done it.

“Yes,” I whispered my honest answer against his neck.

“Fuck,” he muttered into my ear.

“Max,” I breathed again, I had no idea why but it sounded like a plea.

Unfortunately he was immune to my plea. I knew this because his hand came out of my undies, both his arms went tight around me, he buried his face in my neck and he held me close for a good long while.

Eventually he said quietly into my neck, “After we get this done in town, we’re comin’ home and, swear to God, anyone gets close to this house, I’m fuckin’ shootin’ ‘em.”

I pulled my head back, his came up but he didn’t drop his arms. Neither did I.

“Do you own a gun?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he answered. “You have a problem with guns?”

I thought about this for a moment and realized I’d never really thought about guns so I replied, “I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about guns.”

“I’ll take you out shootin’,” Max decided instantly.

I had a problem with that. “I don’t think –”

“Later.”

“Max –” I started to protest.

“Tomorrow.”

“Max –”

His arms gave me a squeeze and his face grew attractively lascivious. “Maybe the next day.”

“Max!” I snapped, losing patience.

He grinned and changed the subject. “You bought a little pitcher, baby.”

I decided to let him change the subject as this one was safer and less likely to make me angry. I’d been angry enough that day for at least a week. Maybe a year.

“It’s a gift,” I informed him, “for taking care of me when I was sick.”

“You bought me a little pitcher as a gift?”

“Yes,” I said. “And a sugar bowl.”

He shook his head like I was adorable then he stated, “My gift was better.”

“Sorry?”

“The ring.”

I immediately pulled my hand from behind his back, placed it on his chest and stared at the ring he gave me that I hadn’t taken off.

Then I looked at him and said, “Yes, agreed, this ring is a whole lot better than a little pitcher even with a matching sugar bowl.”

He threw his head back and laughed, one of his arms sliding high up my back as he crushed my arm between us and gave me a tight hug.

“Are you saying you don’t like my gift?” I asked after he stopped laughing.

“I’ll like the one you’re givin’ me this afternoon a fuckuva lot better,” he replied and I shivered again in his arms before his face got close and I saw he was fighting a grin. “Go take a shower, honey, I’ll make breakfast.”

“I can make breakfast.”

He shook his head. “You take an age to get ready. You’re gettin’ a head start.”

He wasn’t wrong. I wasn’t one of those women who was ready to face the day after a shower and an application of deodorant.

Though I didn’t take “an age”.

Even so, instead of arguing I looked over his shoulder and mumbled, “Whatever.”

His arms tightened before he let me go, grabbed his mug and turned toward the fridge.

“What do you want, oatmeal, toast, granola?” he asked.

“Toast.”

He opened the fridge but turned to me. “Jelly?”

“What do you think?”

He smiled, tipped his head toward the ceiling and said, “Shower, it’ll be done when you get down.”

“Thanks, Max.”

His head was in the fridge when, as if the two words he said didn’t hold colossal meaning, he muttered, “Anything, baby.”

Anything, baby.

Simple as that.

Anything, baby.

Before I could let those words settle in my soul, I grabbed my mug and nearly ran to the stairs.

I was quickly making the bed when Charlie spoke to me.

What’d I say, Neenee Bean?

It sometimes used to annoy me, but I had to admit, Charlie was rarely wrong.

“I think, just maybe,” I whispered under my breath but even I could hear the hope in my tone, “just maybe you’re right, Charlie.”

Charlie didn’t respond as I finished smoothing the duvet, fluffing the pillows and then I took a shower.

***

We were driving through the streets of town and I was looking out the side window, thinking maybe I could go for another buffalo burger sometime relatively soon when Max asked a question.

“Niles loaded?”

I turned to look at him. “I’m sorry?”

“Niles. Is he loaded?”

Something clawed at my insides coming close to tearing away precious tissue.

“He makes good money,” I said off-handedly, looking out the side window again. “His parents, however, are loaded.”

“Your Dad looked loaded.”

I pulled in breath through my nostrils then said, “Dad’s loaded too but Niles’s parents are on a whole other level of loaded.”

There was silence a second before Max said softly, “Thinkin’ today, Duchess, you might’ve gotten written out of your Dad’s will.”

That claw curled up and slid away and the tension in my body relaxed as I murmured, “No big loss.”

He glanced at me and stated, “You make good money too.”

That claw came back with a vengeance.

“I’m not loaded.”

“Nina, don’t know much about ‘em but your fuckin’ purse looks like it cost more than my couch.”

“It didn’t,” I replied sharply and hurriedly.

“You know how much my couch cost?”

“Unless you got a major bargain, it didn’t cost less than my purse,” I retorted.

He glanced at me again and said, “All right, relax.”

“I’m relaxed,” I lied.

“You’re wound up tight,” he observed accurately.

“I am not,” I lied again.

“You got a problem makin’ more money than me?”

“I don’t know that I do.”

“Honey, you’re a lawyer.”

“So?”

He didn’t answer my one word question, instead he asked one of his own. “Can you practice in The States?”

I looked out the side window again and informed him, “I passed the bar and practiced here before moving there, worked for a small firm and I’m still licensed in America. I had to take a conversion course when I moved to England.”

“Then you’re set,” he muttered under his breath but I heard him.

I looked back and asked, “Set for what?”

He again didn’t respond to my question but turned my attention back to one of his. “You didn’t answer my question.”

I was getting confused. “What question?”

“You got a problem makin’ more money than me?”

“If that is, indeed, the case, why would I?” I asked back.

“It’s important to know.”

“Why?”

He glanced at me again and repeated disbelievingly, “Why?”

“Max, seeing as you’re a man and you brought this up then my question would be, do you have a problem with it?”

“Nope,” he replied immediately.

“Then why are we talking about this?”

We’d driven out of town and he made a turn into a residential area as he said, “You get used to that kind of life.”

“What kind of life?”

“The life you get bein’ with someone who’s loaded.”

I couldn’t help it, I laughed.

“Duchess, not sure I get what’s funny,” Max said over my laughter.

I shook my head and looked out the windshield. “It isn’t exactly champagne and caviar on his yacht. He doesn’t own a yacht and I’ve never tasted caviar. Niles mostly watches TV.”

Max made another turn out of the residential area, up an incline and asked, “TV?”

“TV,” I repeated.

“Think things’ll be more excitin’ in the mountains, babe.”

He could say that again. Though I wondered why he said it at all.

After we went up a ways, he pulled into a lane that led up to a huge, nearly ostentatious, weirdly almost overbearing house that looked down on the town as I said, “Now, can I ask, why we’re talking about this?”

He stopped in front of the house, turned off the ignition, undid his seatbelt, I undid mine and Max twisted to me, draping one forearm over the steering wheel.

“Why?”

“Yes,” I said. “Why?”

He looked slightly thrown, slightly annoyed. “Are you kiddin’?”

I felt my brows draw together in puzzlement and I replied, “No, I’m not.”

“Duchess, what do you think is happenin’ here?” he asked, his hand at the steering wheel flipping out with his question, now he sounded slightly annoyed, slightly incredulous.

The claw was long gone, now my insides were seized with something else. It didn’t feel bad, entirely, but it was still downright terrifying.

“Max.”

He took his forearm from the steering wheel, reached out, hooked me at the back of my neck and leaned toward me as he pulled me toward him.

When we were close, he started talking. “You got a lot to think about but today you proved you can handle it so I’m layin’ it out. When I say I want to explore this, what happens this afternoon is half as good as the promise of you, I mean that seriously. And I sure as hell am not gonna fuck around with this over an ocean and I’m also not leavin’ my land. So that means you come here. You need to visit there, we’ll do it as often as we can but you’ll be here, with me, on my land. Yeah?”

“Sorry?” I whispered, now I was thrown, so thrown I was having trouble breathing because I was mentally trying to catch up and he shook his head impatiently.

“I’m not doin’ that long distance shit,” he explained.

“Long distance shit?” I repeated, still whispering.

“Nina, we’re as good together when we’ve actually been together as we are now, when we haven’t, I’m not havin’ you sleep in a bed half a world away from me.”

“We’re good together?” Yes, I was still whispering.

“You had better?”

“No,” I said before I thought better of it.

His face got soft and he murmured strangely, “Yeah.”

I blinked then stammered, “Are you saying you want me to… to… to move in?”

He smiled and replied, “It works out, Duchess, I don’t wanna live in the A-Frame while you take a house in town.”

“So, essentially, you’re telling me to move to Colorado?”

“Nothin’ ‘essentially’ about it.”

“But, I live in Charlie’s house,” I whispered and held my breath.

He didn’t do what I thought he’d do or was conditioned to a man doing.

Instead, his face got even softer, his smile died and muttered, “Fuck.”

“Max –”

“You don’t want to let it go,” he surmised astutely.

“It’s all I have left of him.”

Max’s eyes held mine for a long time.

Then he sighed heavily, gave my neck a squeeze and declared, “We’ll work somethin’ out.”

This surprised me so much I didn’t process what he was saying.

“I’m sorry?”

“We’ll work somethin’ out.”

“What will we work out?”

“I don’t know, somethin’.”

“Max –”

He brought me even closer and he said in a voice that was strangely fierce and vibrating, “Listen to me, Duchess, you got somethin’ good, you got somethin’ solid, you find a way to work shit out. Your brother’s place means somethin’ to you then we’ll work somethin’ out.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed which was what, I suspected, if the moment was verbalized, any woman would breathe when she figured out she was falling in love with a Colorado Mountain Man she barely knew but that knowledge hit her with the certainty a freight train.

“What?” Max asked.

“Nothing,” I said quickly to cover.

He examined my face for a moment and he did this with an intensity that made me feel more than a little exposed before he said softly, “Crack.”

“Sorry?”

He smiled, looking satisfied, and finished, “In your shield.”

Yes, I was right. Exposed but more than a little.

Before I could say a word, he brought me to him, touched his mouth to mine and then, when he pulled away, he muttered, “We’ll talk tonight.”

Then he let me go, turned and got out of the Cherokee.

I followed but I did it a lot slower, mostly because my legs were shaking.

I rounded the hood and looked up at the extravagant house. A woman in a wheelchair was sitting waiting for us just outside the front door. She was watching me as I got close to Max; he took my hand and led us up the steps.

I was a little surprised by her. She had shining, heavy hair that wasn’t light brown but wasn’t dark either and had what appeared to be natural and appealing auburn highlights. She was dressed fashionably in a lovely, soft yellow sweater, jeans and boots, all, I noticed with a practiced eye, superb quality. She didn’t look like she lived in that chair. Instead she looked like she’d just sat down in it to take a load off. As we got close I saw she had a hint of a healthy, becoming tan and she was smiling at Max and me. Her smile was small but it was also genuine and friendly.

“Nina,” she said, “’spect you know I’ve heard a lot about you,” she finished and lifted her hand toward me when Max and I made it to within a few feet of her chair.

“Yes, I figured that,” I smiled back. “And you’re Bitsy,” I greeted, taking her hand.

She gave me a firm squeeze and then dropped mine.

“Yep, that’s me, Bitsy, new widow,” she replied and I realized under her healthy tan and smiling face, she looked tired. Her words weren’t sour, just real with a hint of forlorn she didn’t try to hide, both making them heartbreaking.

“I’m so sorry,” I said quietly.

“You, me and Shauna Fontaine are the only ones in town who are,” she responded with brutal honesty but still no bitterness, more like a sad understanding. Then she put her hands to the wheels of her chair, looked at Max and continued, “Hey Max, would you mind comin’ inside a sec before we take off?”

Without waiting for us to answer, she deftly turned her chair and wheeled herself into the house.

Max glanced at me and with a tug at my hand we followed. He let me go when we got into the massive foyer and he closed the door.

“Don’t mean to be rude, Nina,” Bitsy announced after she turned her chair toward us again, her voice was a bit hesitant. “But could you wait in the living room a minute while I talk with Max? Just need –”

I cut her off, letting her know she didn’t need to explain anything to me, she could have whatever she needed, saying, “That’s fine. I’ll wait.”

“Thanks.” She smiled again, a hint of relief in her expression now then she wheeled to my right and Max and I followed. She talked as she went. “You want a cup of coffee or a soda or somethin’?”

“No, thanks, I’m okay.”

She swept out a hand to the room and invited, “Make yourself at home. We won’t be long, promise.” Then her eyes went to Max before she pushed herself toward the door.

“Be back,” Max murmured, chucked me under the chin and then he went after Bitsy.

I watched them go then, in an effort not to think about what happened in the Cherokee (my habit of late, not thinking when I knew it would be far healthier, not to mention the whole bloody reason I took this adventure in the first place, to sort myself out), I walked to the floor to cathedral ceiling windows and looked at the view.

It was different than Max’s view considering it was on the opposite side of town and also on an opposite facing mountain. It was also somehow a little less spectacular, seeing as it wasn’t as far up the mountain which limited the vista.

There was something else about it that struck me as strange, so strange it made me slightly uncomfortable. In an effort to understand this bizarre feeling, I settled in and took in the view.

I could see the whole town, its short Main Street which I knew since I’d traversed it was only five blocks long, roads leading off it, more businesses on them a few doors in but houses after that.

To the left, just out of town, there was a plain covered in two baseball fields, their outfields butting against each other. I could see small stands on either side of the dugouts. Next to this two football fields running alongside each other separated by more bleachers. Small, white, concession stands at either side of the complex. Probably where little league was held in summer and Pop Warner football in the fall.

To the right, again partially out of town, the high school, not large but not small. Another football field, far more bleachers available for onlookers, lined lanes of a running track around its perimeter. A baseball field on the opposite side of the school. Both of these had lots of lights, bigger concession stands and looked more impressive.

It was clear the town liked its sport and supported its kids.

I thought about it and I knew, because I saw it on the little plastic displays on the tables, that The Dog had live music on Friday and Saturday nights. Drake’s, the bar Max took me to in town the night of Shauna, Harry and buffalo burgers, had acoustic music every Tuesday. I’d seen posters informing townsfolk of what was playing at the cinema that Becca told me was one town over. There were fliers on bulletin boards on the sides of buildings in town telling people that Oklahoma! was being performed at a dinner theatre which had to be close. Since I’d driven by it, I knew there was a mall about thirty miles out which also had a multi-screen cinema. On the website where I found Max’s house, it advertised that the town held two festivals, one a small music and arts festival in early summer, the other a larger Halloween-cum-harvest festival in the fall. There were also a number of other festivals littered throughout the region.

Restaurants, shops, cinemas, dinner theatre, sport, festivals, Denver only a two hour drive away, small and large ski resorts very close, hiking and biking trails criss-crossing the mountains, it certainly wasn’t like there was nothing to do in Gnaw Bone. In fact, it seemed a tranquil, pretty hub in the middle of it all.

I was thinking how I’d like to experience what a Halloween-cum-harvest festival was like, not to mention a music and arts festival, when it hit me what was wrong about the view.

I realized that not only could I see all of town, if I was anywhere in town, I could see this huge, grand house on its rise.

I hadn’t exactly taken a tour of the entire town but from what I’d seen the houses were smallish, some of them older, established, having been around for quite awhile. Others much newer but not that new, looking like they’d been built the last few decades, not the last few years. They could all be described as comfortable but none of them could be described as luxurious. There were a couple of small apartment and condominium complexes like Mindy’s and Becca’s which seemed much newer, but mostly the town was settled and its income bracket was clearly identifiable.

This house and where it was positioned screamed “Look at me!” in a weird way. It demanded attention, I was guessing in order to rub people’s nose in its obvious expense, constantly lord over the entire populace. You couldn’t forget it was here because you couldn’t escape it.

It wasn’t an old house and I figured Curtis Dodd built it where it was for the reasons I deduced.

I felt a chill glide over my skin at what I suspected was not a popular decision on Dodd’s part, not to mention what it said about him, and I turned away from the window and took in the enormous room. Even the furniture, decoration and fittings were obvious in their lavishness. One could buy ten of my purses and five of Max’s couches for one of Bitsy’s.

I walked to a long set of interconnecting bookshelves that ran the length of the outside wall of the room, wishing to take my mind off my thoughts by perusing the many photos displayed in frames there.

From what I saw in the photos, the house and all its contents were not Bitsy’s idea. Bitsy, it appeared as I studied the photos, decorated like me. There were tons of pictures of happy, smiling people who clearly cared about each other and who Bitsy clearly cared about. In some of them she was healthy, standing, smiling, laughing and surrounded by loved ones. Others, I was heartened to see, she was in her chair, doing the same.

I decided then that I admired her. Charlie never got to that point. Charlie would smile after he lost his legs but it was never the same. Bitsy seemed to have come to terms with her life in her chair and continued to enjoy living it. Furthermore, it was apparent she didn’t mind reminders of the life she had before she was put in it.

I stopped when I saw a photo of Bitsy with a man taken a long time ago for they both looked young and they were both standing.

It had to be her husband, the now very dead Curtis Dodd.

I was surprised at the sight of him. Somehow I expected him to be short, maybe balding, looking squirrely, his eyes mean. But he looked kind of like Max, except not nearly as handsome or tall. But he was a Mountain Man, slightly rough, his hair fair to almost gold, his face tanned. He was smiling at the camera in a weird way, though, almost self-conscious, as if he wasn’t comfortable being photographed and wanted to put his best foot forward. Bitsy, on the other hand, was smiling with abandon, clearly happy, both her arms around his neck and her cheek pressed to his. She didn’t care what anyone thought and the only thing anyone could think was she was in love with the man in her arms.

I glanced through the other pictures, trying to find him in the faces, but that was the only photo of the two of them together and the only photo of him at all.

I moved to the last shelf looking for signs of Curtis, my eyes grazing the limited books and knick knacks displayed between the photos when I stopped dead.

Three photos had their own shelf, a lower one, Bitsy’s height, and they were arranged like it was a place of honor. Unlike the others, these pictures weren’t shoved in, a jumble to exhibit as many as possible to surround Bitsy with constant reminders that she was loved and of the ones she loved. These were just those three, three different sizes in frames that clearly showed the photos were important.

I leaned down and it took everything I had not to reach out and grab one, bringing it in for closer inspection. But I couldn’t touch them, couldn’t let my fingers give the signal to my brain that they were real.

Max. Max and Anna.

In all that happened I’d forgotten what Arlene had said the other night at The Dog, it totally escaped me.

Max had a wife, her name was Anna and she was beautiful. Unbelievably beautiful. She matched him in her utter perfection.

Blonde to his dark, her hair long and wild, her complexion without flaw, her eyes gorgeous and dancing.

There was a photo, smaller, a snapshot of Max, Anna, Curtis and Bitsy, all in a row, all with their arms around each other’s waists, all smiling into the camera. Even Curtis looked relaxed and at ease. Good friends, out of doors doing something together, a picnic, a barbeque, enjoying good times.

There was another photo, much larger, more official, sitting in the center, Max and Anna’s wedding day. He wore a tux; she had on a simple white dress that she made stunning, daisies mingled in her long, wild hair that she made look sophisticated. They were depicted full-length, standing outside, the river behind them. They were front to front, arms around each other, Max’s head tipped down, Anna’s head tipped back, broad smiles on both of their faces that you could see even in profile. Happy. Exceptionally so. They both looked young, maybe early twenties, their life spread out before them filled with love and wonder.

But it was the last that caught my heart, that claw coming back to slash at my insides. It was a close-up, Max’s arm around Anna’s shoulders, her head against one of his, both of them looking in the camera, both of them clearly laughing, both of them deliriously happy and obviously in love.

Max’s bluff was behind them.

Something blocked my throat as my eyes seemed to swell against their sockets and, suddenly frantic, I walked the length of the bookshelves examining the other photos again.

No sign of Anna. No sign of Max.

Back to the shelf of honor, I looked at the smallest photo. Bitsy, younger, standing, smiling, one arm around Curtis who was to the outside, her other arm around Anna.

Then back through the shelves, Bitsy in her chair, no Anna, no Max.

“Oh my God,” I breathed as it hit me.

Mindy telling me Max wouldn’t forget what a visit from the police felt like. Max’s fierce vow about dying in an effort to take care of someone you loved. Curtis, Bitsy, Anna and Max, all standing linked and happy, friends once, good ones. Now, Max was one of the earliest suspects questioned in Curtis’s murder.

Something had happened, something that put Bitsy in her chair and took Anna away altogether. And that something, I was sure, had to do with Curtis Dodd.

My recent conversation with Max in the Jeep came back at me, striking me, scorching, like a bolt of lightning.

“You had better?” Max had asked.

“No,” I’d answered.

Then he’d murmured, “Yeah.”

His “yeah” didn’t mean he felt the same. He hadn’t agreed that he hadn’t had better. He just knew I hadn’t.

Because he had. He’d been married to her. Funny, beautiful, forever young Anna with her blonde hair and her knack for making daisies, of all things, look sophisticated.

And he hadn’t said a word. Not one word.

All his pushing for me to share, he hadn’t shared. He’d mentioned his father, his sister, his mother, his land, but not the fact that he’d quite obviously been married to the love of his life and she’d died.

Which was a bloody big piece of history to keep to yourself.

I heard the murmur of voices approaching and I quickly moved back across the room in order to appear as if I’d been studying view. I turned my back to the entrance of the room and looked out the window, my eyes not seeing, my heart tripping over itself, that thing still lodged in my throat.

It would, of course, be me who would find an amazingly handsome Mountain Man with great hair, an attractive voice, an ability to show affection in a way that made you feel cherished, a protective streak that made you feel safe and, lastly, a dead wife who was the love of his life.

Meaning that was something I would never be. The love of Holden Maxwell’s life would never be me.

However, if we explored this, as Max wished to do, it was becoming more and more evident by the second, that he could be that for me.

“Sorry, Nina,” Bitsy called and I swallowed against the lump, forced a smile on my face and turned to her as she finished, “that took longer than I expected.”

“That’s all right,” I said, trying to sound cheerful but my voice seemed higher pitched and false. I kept talking to hide it. “You have a beautiful view.”

Bitsy wheeled herself close and looked out the window.

“Yeah,” she said as if she wasn’t entirely convinced then she looked at me and smiled her small, somewhat sad but still authentic smile. “Max’s is better.”

I nodded for what she said was true.

“Let’s get this done,” Max announced and I started at his gravelly voice and my eyes went to him.

He was looking down at Bitsy and he asked, “You want me to load up the motorized chair?”

“Nope, feel energetic today and not goin’ very far. This one’ll work,” Bitsy answered, wheeling herself back into the hall. “I’ll just get my coat and we’ll be on our way.”

I licked my lips and kept my eyes pointed at the floor as I headed to the front door.

“Duchess?” Max called when I was passing him.

I stopped, trying to clear my expression and I looked at him.

“Yes?” I asked.

His head tipped to the side, his eyes scanning my face before he asked back, “You okay?”

“Fine,” I lied, suddenly hating, no detesting, the fact that, even knowing him only a week, he could read my mood so easily.

“Honey,” he said softly, not believing me.

“I’m fine,” I repeated and he got close, hooking a finger in my side jeans belt loop, effectively, even affectionately, halting my progress when I moved to head to the door again.

“Nina,” he said and I looked up at him, wishing I didn’t like his finger in my belt loop so darned much. “She’s good,” he told me in a hushed voice. “She’s used to it. She adjusted a long time ago”

“What?” I asked.

“Her chair.”

I blinked as I realized Max thought my mood had shifted because Bitsy was reminding me of Charlie.

This was thoughtful, as Max, I knew since he’d exhibited this ability on more than one occasion, could be and I suddenly decided I detested that too.

“That’s good,” I muttered, pulled from his hold on my belt loop and headed to the door where a be-jacketed Bitsy was pulling it open.

“God, it’ll be good not to have to go somewhere in that stupid van,” Bitsy commented and looked at me, taking the sting out of her complaint by explaining, “I like the Cherokee.”

“Then you get to sit in front,” I told her, using this as my excuse not to be close to Max, not even in his car. I needed distance, I needed to think, I needed to process the knowledge I’d learned in Bitsy’s house and what it meant to me.

“Oh, that’s okay –” Bitsy began.

“I insist.”

“Really –”

I cut her off again saying, “Better views from up there.”

She gave me another smile and a, “Thanks,” then rolled herself out, down a ramp and to the front passenger side of Max’s Jeep.

Max opened the door and lifted Bitsy in without effort like he’d done it more than once before. I grabbed the chair and wheeled it to the rear of the truck, thinking he was so obviously strong and detesting that suddenly too. Bitsy was thin, though not skinny, and looked fit regardless of the wheelchair. But standing, as I saw in the photo, she was Anna’s height and Anna, I guessed, was my height which meant Bitsy was not exactly light as a feather.

I pulled the seat up at the middle, folding the chair as I’d done to Charlie’s time and time again, thinking Anna was blonde and she was my height. She was also, according to Arlene, funny. She didn’t look like me, I wasn’t hideous but I certainly didn’t have her beauty or her obvious effervescence, but we resembled each other.

Maybe Max, at long last, thought he’d found a replacement. Not the real thing, never to have the real thing again, but close enough.

“I got it, Duchess,” Max told me as I pulled up the back of the Cherokee to load the chair.

“Right,” I muttered and walked around him to sit behind Bitsy, not sparing him a glance. I got in and buckled up.

“It’s nice that you came, Nina,” Bitsy said into the car. “I know you’re on vacation and this is probably the last thing you wanted to do.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

Max got in and I noticed he did this twisted so his clear, gray, too intelligent eyes were on me. I looked out my window.

“Please don’t worry. I’m fine,” I told Bitsy but spoke to the window.

“It’s just that,” Bitsy said as Max switched on the ignition and started to back out, “Max and I’ve been friends for a good long while and I’d heard about you so I was curious. And, without making a big production out of it, I couldn’t come to you.”

“Really, it’s okay,” I assured her again. “It isn’t every day a girl goes to a Police Station. I came out for an adventure and here it is. I’m having it.”

She laughed quietly at my lame joke but she did it without a lot of humor. “Yeah, great adventure, hunh?”

I didn’t reply. Instead I hesitated then leaned forward, reached through and curled my fingers around her shoulder. I felt it tense under my hand but I gave it a squeeze and then pulled away and sat back.

We rode in silence to the Station, not exactly comfortable since everyone was in their own thoughts and none of our thoughts were good. However, fortunately, it wasn’t a long ride.

I stayed silent and hung back as Max took care of Bitsy and she wheeled herself into the Station.

“I’ll go find Mick,” Max said when we were all inside, moving forward, as usual taking charge and Bitsy looked relieved to wheel herself to a bank of chairs.

I followed and she backed in beside one, giving me my cue to sit by her.

“This is stupid, this whole thing,” she muttered when I sat down.

Her head was tilted down but she was looking under her lashes at the reception desk.

“What is?” I asked quietly.

“I shoulda let Mick come up to the house, talk to me there,” Bitsy looked at me, I noticed her face had changed, the mask was falling, grief was moving to the surface and she whispered, “I just couldn’t.”

“It’s okay,” I assured her.

“It’s already a crime scene, my house.” She was still whispering. “I can’t go to the utility room. It’s roped off with yellow tape.”

These words made my heart hurt for her and my stomach pitch in revulsion at the knowledge she shared with me. So without hesitation this time, I covered her hand with mine. She turned hers so it was palm to palm and her fingers curled and, when they did, so did mine.

“You do this as you have to do it,” I said to her.

“I don’t want any more of this in my house.”

“Then that’s how you’re doing it.”

She looked to the reception desk and back at me. “I’m sorry, Nina. Max has enough to do. Mindy, you, all the stuff he has to see to when he’s in town. He doesn’t need me adding to all that stuff.”

I gave her hand a squeeze and said, “I don’t think he minds.”

She looked over my shoulder and replied, “He never minds.”

No, she was right. Apparently Super Max was pretty content with taking care of half the town, such was his wonderfulness.

That, too, I suddenly detested.

Her hand gave mine a squeeze as her attention came back to me. “I promise Nina, because Curtis is gone this won’t get to be a habit. I’ve got people who look out for me, a lot of friends, family close, people who take me grocery shopping, a girl who comes in to clean the house, you know, stuff like that.”

“It’s okay,” I promised, wondering why she felt she had to reassure me about these things. Then again she lived in town and pretty much everyone in town, including Max, thought that he and I were going somewhere and we were doing it together.

“You should know something else too,” Bitsy said, calling my attention to her and she kept talking. “Harry came by yesterday. He’s torn up.” She shook her head but continued. “We won’t talk about that but anyway, he said he met you and so did Shauna.”

“Yes,” I confirmed, she gazed at my face and I knew she read my opinion about Shauna because our eyes locked and we shared a silent moment of keen understanding about Shauna Fontaine.

Then her hand squeezed mine and she carried on, “He told me what Shauna said to you and, you should know, it isn’t true.”

“Sorry?”

“Max,” she went on. “He takes the jobs out of town because he makes really good money doing them. He’s never gone long, three months, sometimes six or eight, but not often and he never takes the big ones that last forever. He likes to be home and, sometimes, even when he’s on a job, he’ll come home for weekends and stuff.” I nodded, she kept tight hold of my hand and continued speaking. “He doesn’t rent that house for the money, like Shauna said. He’s got money. Not only does he make good money but he’s also got some besides, from, um… you know,” she hesitated then finished, “a little nest egg.”

I didn’t know and I didn’t get to ask, not that I would have, she continued.

“It’s just that he’s smart. If he’s going to be gone all that time, why not rent the house? He makes a bucketful when he rents it, he can get top dollar and he demands it. I would too. I mean, who wouldn’t? His house is great.”

I didn’t want to be in another conversation about Max’s finances, especially considering the reasons why I was in another conversation about Max’s finances, so I said, “Of course,” hoping that she’d be reassured and we could stop talking about it.

She nodded and went on, “The other thing…” She paused and her hand squeezed mine, not comfortingly, spasmodically, a reflexive action communicating something else entirely. Then this action was explained when she said in a low voice, the words coming fast and I knew it took a lot for her to utter them, “Beware of Shauna. I know why she was with Curtis and I know why she was with Harry. I’m guessin’, from what Harry told me, that you figured it out so you gotta know, she was with Max for another reason. She wanted him for a long time before she got him and she made no bones about it and when I say that, I mean a long time.” She paused to let that penetrate, before she finished, “She still wants him, maybe even more now that she’s lost him.”

Considering the fact that I’d recently decided to go home to England as soon as humanly possible and never come back to Colorado again in my life, it was unnecessary for Bitsy to give me this warning. Although I didn’t tell her that since her doing so was also kind.

“Thanks Bitsy,” I said and then told her the truth knowing, even so, she’d not understand my true meaning, “I’m not worried about Shauna.”

She smiled at me, it was again small, her face had not fought back the grief but she wasn’t letting it consume her, something else I admired her for, and she gave my hand a final squeeze before letting it go.

“Sucks,” she started, looking back at the reception desk and I saw her eyes lock on something and I looked to see Max and Mick were heading our way. “Finally, he’s found someone he’s into and it’s during all this crap.” I felt her eyes come back to me so I looked back to her and she was again smiling. “But we’ll get to know each other.”

“I’d like that,” I said quietly, even though I knew we wouldn’t.

“Me too,” she replied with feeling, not sharing my knowledge and making me feel guilty because she appeared to be looking forward to it.

“Bitsy,” Mick greeted as he stopped in front of us and I stayed seated. I did this out of habit. It was something I did for Charlie, keeping myself at his level, not making him look up all the time, reminding him of what he’d lost.

“Hey Mick,” Bitsy greeted back.

“How’s things, Nina?” Mick asked me.

“Interesting,” I replied and Mick smiled.

“Max, would you stay with me when they talk to me?” Bitsy asked and then said to me, “Or, sorry Nina, I should ask you. Do you mind?”

I shook my head and smiled at her. “I’ll just go get a coffee or something.”

“Thanks,” she said softly. She nodded at Mick, started wheeling away and Mick followed her.

Max stayed with me and I stood.

“Bitsy wants you,” I reminded him.

“Somethin’s up,” he said straight out, watching me closely.

“You better go,” I encouraged him, evading his subject. “Do you want me to bring you a coffee when I come back?”

He got close, tilting his head down to look at me but he didn’t touch me.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I’ll get Bitsy a coffee too. Do you know what she likes?”

His finger went into my side belt loop again.

Then he said in a low tone, “Not gonna ask twice, Duchess.”

God. Seriously. He was so annoying.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lyin’.”

My eyes narrowed, I yanked my hips away but his finger held fast and instead of tearing my loop, I settled and repeated, “I said, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

I leaned in and hissed my lie, “All right, Max, I’m going out for coffee and my Dad’s in town. I don’t want to run into him and have another scene, this time in public.”

His finger in my loop drew me closer as his face relaxed.

“Just stay at the Station,” he suggested. “I’ll ask Mick to get someone to bring you coffee.”

“Police coffee?” I asked, sounding horrified.

“Yeah, Duchess,” he returned, grinning. “You think your system could stomach that?”

“No,” I lied again.

His grin got bigger and he muttered, “Christ, you’re cute.”

I sucked in breath, feeling those three words pummel me like blows to the gut.

Then I reminded him, “Max, they’re waiting for you.”

“Stay here, you want coffee, we’ll get coffee with Bitsy after. She’d like that.”

“Max, as I said, twice, I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head and his finger in my loop brought me even closer, inappropriately closer for a public place, a closer that was almost, but not quite, as close as making-out-in-the-kitchen close.

“Now you explained it,” he said, “I don’t like the idea of you runnin’ into your Dad in town without me havin’ your back. So I want you to stay here. Yeah?”

I decided it was probably better to give in because Max wouldn’t let it go and I needed distance immediately. What I did not need were more indications of all the reasons he could easily be the love of any woman’s life.

I decided this but I also decided not to give in gracefully.

So I did it on the release of a heavy, annoyed breath. “Oh, all right.”

His grin came back, his finger left my loop but his hand lifted and curled around my neck, giving me a squeeze then he turned around and walked away.

Not five minutes later, a lady who introduced herself as Jane brought me coffee and when I took a sip it was just how I took it.

Yes. Max was so annoying.

***

We were on our way back up to the A-Frame.

It was after Bitsy’s police interview; after Max took us to lunch, again at that little caf�� by the river but this time it was warm enough for us to sit outside close to the rushing, snow-melt swelled river; and, after lunch, we took Bitsy home where she insisted we stay for a thank you mug of her homemade lattes which she created in a fabulous kitchen that also had a load of extra counters that had been built so she could reach them and, incidentally, her lattes were delicious.

Bitsy had been quiet and reflective through lunch and twice I caught her eyes filling with tears while she studied the river, though she never allowed the tears to fall. Max and I kept quiet with her, me because I didn’t know what to say and I was deep in my own thoughts, Max because, I suspected, he was leaving her be. When she went home, she seemed to perk up but I guessed this was because she wanted to entice us not to leave and I didn’t blame her. Being alone with my thoughts in my current predicament was less than fun. Being alone with hers would be torture.

Now I was studying the beautiful landscape passing me by wondering, if the cosmos had shined down on me and given me Max free and clear, if I’d have ever gotten used to the beauty of it and thinking at the same time that Max thought that we’d be spending the afternoon further exploring our relationship.

I was also trying to form a plan on how I was going to avoid letting him do that and wondering, if he touched me and, God forbid, kissed me, even if I did form a plan, if I could manage to be successful in my endeavors.

“Duchess?” he called at the same time I felt his hand wrap, warm and strong, around mine.

“Yes?” I answered, looking from the side window to the front but not at him.

“What’s on your mind, honey?” His voice was soft and he’d pulled my hand to rest the back of it against his hard thigh.

I hadn’t felt his thigh until just then but of course it, too, was hard, inviting touch. I decided this was most irritating even though my brain registered the feel was totally amazing.

I also decided not to fight at that juncture and leave my hand in his while I somewhat lied, though I thought of it more as not telling the full truth, “Bitsy.”

His fingers gave me a squeeze as he said, “She’ll be okay.”

“She loved him.”

“Yeah.”

I bit my lip then pointed out the obvious because he more than anyone knew. “That means she won’t be okay.”

This was as good a time as any, in fact, better than most, for Max to share about his dead wife.

He didn’t.

He just repeated, “Yeah.”

Jerk!

“I’ll talk with her later, after the funeral, maybe in a few weeks,” he went on. “Get her to sell that house. Too many memories, too big for her, hell, it was too big for them when Curt was alive.”

“Mm hmm,” I mumbled.

He gave my hand a squeeze before he let it go to downshift in order to make a turn. He left it resting on his thigh and I moved it away, linking it with my other one in my lap, hoping he wouldn’t re-initiate the contact as he said, “We’ll look out for her. She’ll make it through.”

“Mm hmm,” I repeated, hoping he meant “we” as in Wonder Max and the Townsfolk of Gnaw Bone, not him and me, something which would never be.

This was another decision I’d come to and I’d come to it in the silence over lunch thus me knowing that being alone with my thoughts was not fun.

I couldn’t live a life like the one I led with Niles.

I also couldn’t live a life knowing the length of it, even if it was good, that I was second best.

No, there wouldn’t even be a length to it because eventually, like everything else I’d risked, it would end in disaster. I’d had enough disaster with jerks, thieves, cheaters and beaters. I didn’t need the heartbreaking disaster that was all Max.

I needed to be the love of someone’s life, like Mom was for Steve. They’d both waited a long time, Mom after a short marriage that ended in heartbreak, Steve after a long, loveless marriage that ended with his wife dying of a heart attack two years before he met Mom. I hoped I didn’t have to wait as long as Mom but I also knew down deep in my soul I needed to wait for that special person who felt that way for me, just me and only me so I could feel safe giving that feeling back to him.

Max was silent through my thoughts then, before he made the next turn, he asked, “You still thinkin’ about your Dad?”

“No,” I replied truthfully this time. My father was the last thing on my mind, which was the only fortunate thing that came from the vicious twists and turns of my day.

“That Niles guy?” Max pressed.

“No,” I replied, again truthfully.

Max was silent again while he made the next turn and he noted, “Somethin’ else is eatin’ you, babe,” but before I could comment, he pulled in a sharp breath.

I looked at him then followed his eyes. Then I pulled in a sharp breath too.

Firstly, there was a Subaru parked in front of the A-Frame. Mindy and a tall man, the sun shining on their hair and both of them were leaning their backs against the Subaru’s hatchback. Secondly, there was my rental car at the edge of Max’s front clearing, obviously, and quite liberally, having been vandalized.

“What the fuck?” Max clipped as he turned into the lane, drove down it and parked behind the rental.

He didn’t glance at me when he got out. I followed him, my eyes also glued to the rental.

It had been nearly covered in spray paint including the windows. The brake lights had been busted out, their plastic shards in the gravel of Max’s drive. The tires were flat, all four of them. The wing mirrors were hanging drunkenly by wires, the mirrors shattered.

“Appears you got an enemy,” the tall man said, he and Mindy walking up to us.

I glanced at him. He had dark red-brown hair, somewhat familiar blue eyes and tanned skin. He was nearly as handsome as Max and, now that I was becoming somewhat of an expert at identifying them, I noted he was also total Mountain Man wearing a thermal under a jeans jacket, faded jeans and boots. His eyes were attached to me.

“I –” I began.

“I’m so sorry, Neens,” Mindy interrupted me, coming to his side, she was biting her lip, looking worried, her eyes appeared red rimmed as if she’d been crying.

It was the red-rimmed eyes that took my attention therefore I forgot about my unknown new acquaintance and asked, “Are you okay?”

She shook her head and announced, “Damon did this.”

“Did what?” I asked stupidly, feeling my heart start beating faster and my palms start itching.

“Your car, honey,” Max answered and I looked to him.

“My car?” I repeated, my mind stuck on thoughts of Damon getting to Mindy in town, doing something to make her cry and wondering where Max kept his gun.

He tipped his head to the rental and his arm slid around my shoulders. “Damon, he did that to your car.”

I glanced at my car then my gaze went back to Mindy.

“Did you see him do this?” I asked.

“No,” she answered.

My voice was softer when I went on, “Have you seen him at all, darling?”

“No,” she replied.

“Did he call you?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know he did it?”

“That’s just,” she flicked a hand to the rental, her breath hitched then she pulled in a deep one to cover it before she went on, “what he’d do.” Then tears gathered in her eyes and she concluded, “I’m so sorry, Neens.”

Then she covered her face with her hands and burst into tears.

I pulled out from under Max’s arm and swiftly walked forward, gathering Mindy in my embrace.

“Sweetheart,” I cooed to her, “I have full coverage on that rental. It’s no big deal.”

Well, it was since I really now couldn’t escape Max unless I somehow managed to make off with his Cherokee in the dead of night but I couldn’t tell Mindy that.

I’d worry about that later, though hopefully not too much later. I had to worry about Mindy now as she was hiccoughing and still hadn’t taken her hands from her face even though I was holding her.

“Yes, but it’s such a dick thing to do,” Mindy said from behind her hands.

“You’re right about that, still, if he didn’t do it, really I would just be throwing that insurance cover away. I should find him, thank him for making that financial outlay worthwhile.”

Her body jerked, her hands went down and her head came up.

“What?” she whispered and I looked over my shoulder at the car then back at her.

“And, Mindy, seriously, he made that insurance really worthwhile. I mean he was thorough. Don’t you think, darling?” I teased.

A surprised giggle came up her throat, she gulped it back and I smiled at her as I pulled one side of her hair over her shoulder.

Then I put my hands to her face and used my thumbs to rub away the tears as I said softly, “All right, you’ll probably shed more tears over that Neanderthal before you’re well and truly over him, but please, don’t do it on my behalf. Okay?”

“You aren’t pissed?”

Oh, I was pissed. Damon Matthews had taken away all hopes of escape and he was, indeed, a very serious dick. Still, Mindy didn’t need to know any of that.

“I’m of the opinion, the more evidence he presents that you can so way do better than him, the better it is.”

“Already, I like her.” The deep, rumbling voice of the redheaded man came from close.

I dropped Mindy’s face and stepped away, looking up at him.

“Brody,” he introduced himself, hand up, eyes (Mindy’s eyes, which was why they were familiar) smiling and open as well as openly curious.

But I wasn’t breathing.

Brody. Mindy’s brother. Max’s best friend! Here to “check me out” no doubt. Why did this continue to get worse? Why?

“Nina,” I introduced myself back, unquestionably unnecessarily, and I took his hand.

His grip was firm, strong and overlong. Overlong in the fact that he didn’t actually let me go. His hand, like Max’s, engulfed mine.

“You’re pretty,” he told me.

“Um… thanks?” I answered on a question, giving a small, polite pull which was met with firm, impolite resistance.

“You’re right,” he said, eyes still on me but I got the sense he was talking to someone else and his next words would prove me correct. “She’s got fuckin’ great eyes.”

I didn’t know if he was talking to Max or Mindy but I didn’t ask nor could I care because I was back to not breathing and he still hadn’t let go of my hand therefore I had more pressing things on my mind.

“Um…” I muttered.

“You wanna let her go?” Max suggested and there was humor in his tone, humor mixed with an indication that his words weren’t entirely a suggestion.

“Not really,” was Brody’s insane and alarming answer and he coupled this with his grip becoming stronger.

“Brody,” Mindy said on a mini-giggle, “quit jacking around.”

Brody obviously was in the mood to “jack around” and he didn’t let me go.

Instead he remarked, “I thought you English people were reserved.”

“I’m not, um... exactly –”

He cut me off noting, “But you’re sweet.”

“Um…”

“Can you cook?” he asked, still holding onto my hand.

“Cook?” I asked back.

“I heard English food sucks.”

I tried another pull, met with more resistance and answered, “I think that’s what Americans think when they go to England and eat American food. English food is delicious. English doing American food isn’t as successful.”

“Yeah, Arlene said she had some kind of fish casserole thingie-ma-bobbie over here last night that Neens whipped up and Arlene said it was unbelievable,” Mindy put in.

Brody looked toward Max. “Arlene’s havin’ dinner at your house?”

Max came up close to my side and answered, “She’s taken a shine to Nina.”

This for some reason made Brody throw his head back and burst out laughing.

“Brody,” Max said over his laughter, not a lot of humor in his voice, in fact none at all, “would you fuckin’ let her go?”

Brody let me go, then again anyone would let me go with the way Max asked for it to be done. I stepped back, my shoulder hit Max and his arm immediately curled around my waist from behind.

“Relax, bro, just bein’ friendly,” Brody said over my shoulder.

“Too friendly,” Max said back.

“We’re that,” Brody’s eyes came to me, “friendly.”

“I’ve noticed,” I replied.

Then Brody asked, “Arlene?”

“We got slightly snockered with Arlene at The Dog before Max kicked Damon’s ass,” Mindy shared.

“Ah,” Brody nodded, light dawning, “Arlene held the sacred ritual. Snockered with her at The Dog. She’s usually ornery as hell but you’re in now, Nina, never to be let out.”

“You make that sound not so good,” I noted.

“Arlene’s good people, if she likes you, but when she likes you, she’s opinionated, in your business good people.”

“Oh dear,” I muttered and Brody burst out laughing again.

Max gave my waist a squeeze.

“Either of you think to call the cops about Nina’s car?” Max asked.

“Yeah, about fifteen minutes ago. They’re on the way up,” Brody answered.

“Mick should set up an outpost next to the house, he’s been here so fuckin’ much this week,” Max muttered.

“Why’s Mickey been here?” Brody asked and I felt Max’s body get tight against mine.

“Mins?” Max called and Mindy nodded so Max carried on with a one word answer that was obviously meant to explain all. “Dodd.”

It apparently did for Brody nodded.

“He needs you for Bitsy,” Brody guessed.

“That and he wanted my alibi,” Max informed him.

Good-natured, teasing Brody disappeared and his heavy, auburn brows snapped together dangerously before he bit out, “What the fuck?”

Here we go again, I thought.

“Brody, it’s fine. He’s talked to a lot of people,” Max assured him.

“Yeah, but you?” Brody was still unhappy.

“Can we go in?” Mindy butted in. “I need a soda or somethin’.”

“Yeah,” Max said, his arm coming from around my waist but I felt his finger hooking, this time in a back belt loop of my jeans and putting pressure on to propel me forward.

“Doubt Mickey’ll come up on a vandalized car, not when he’s workin’ a murder,” Brody noted as he walked beside us up the steps. “Probably send Jeff or Pete. Still, gonna have words with him ‘bout visitin’ you for an alibi.”

“Let it go,” Max said softly but firmly, sliding his key into the lock at the front door. “He’s just doin’ his job.”

Max opened the door and pushed me in front of him but I still saw the look Mindy and Brody exchanged.

“I’ll get the drinks,” I announced, ignoring their looks, telling myself all this mystery was none of my business anymore not that it ever was. “Mindy, you want a diet?”

“Yeah Neens,” she answered, skip-dancing to a stool.

I shrugged my purse off my shoulder and plopped it on the dining room table, calling, “Brody?”

“Beer.”

“Max?” I asked when I’d hooked my jacket around a chair.

“Beer, honey.”

I nodded and hit the kitchen. Mindy sat on the stool. Brody pulled himself up to sit on the opposite counter. Max assumed his usual position with hips against the kitchen sink. I got the drinks and then took my can of diet and went to sit beside Mindy on the other stool. When I settled in I chanced a look at Max to see I was right about feeling his eyes on me. He was watching me and I got the impression he didn’t like that I put space and a counter between us.

“Stayin’ at Mins’s place in town,” Brody declared and Max’s eyes went to him. “Gonna look for Damon, have a word, finalize shit.”

“How much time you get off?” Max asked.

“Gotta be back Wednesday,” Brody answered.

“Brody and I decided we’re all goin’ to The Rooster for steaks tonight,” Mindy announced, bouncing twice on her stool with happiness at this idea and Max’s eyes took her in before they cut back to me. This was both good and bad. Good because his eyes cut to me rather than him going to his gun, bad because he didn’t look happy.

“Made a reservation and Mindy got Bonnie to cover for her at The Dog tonight,” Brody added.

Mindy turned to me and explained, “The Rooster’s steaks are awesome and you get to dress up!”

“Um…” I muttered, feeling the heat of Max’s stare and feeling the pressure of his unhappiness.

“I’m wearin’ high heels and this absolutely fab… you… las top I found at the outlet store. It’s designer but they mismarked it and I got it for a song. You’ll love it.”

“That’s great, darling, can’t wait to see it,” I said to Mindy and then glanced at Max to see he, unlike Mindy, was not thrilled at the idea of The Rooster and he, unlike me, could indeed wait to see Mindy’s designer top.

“What’re you gonna wear?” Mindy asked.

“Oh,” I muttered, looking away from Max, “I’ll find something.”

“If you didn’t bring anything, you could come into town with me and go through my closet and Becca’s!” she finished, obviously excited about a girlie closet trawl.

“Um…” I muttered again.

“I’m sure she’s got somethin’,” Max put in.

“But, maybe she –” Mindy started.

“She’s got somethin’,” Max repeated.

“But a girl’s gotta –”

“Mins, babe, she’s got somethin’,” Brody said firmly and Mindy looked between the men then at me.

“Okay,” she whispered and grinned at me, bugging out her eyes.

I grinned back then turned and saw Max’s eyes go between Mindy and me to look out the window.

“Pete,” he said, pushing away from the sink and I twisted on my stool to see an SUV with lights on top and a star on the door rolling down the lane.

“We’ll let you deal with this. Reservation’s at six thirty,” Brody said. “You wanna meet us in town or you wanna meet us at The Rooster?”

“Rooster,” Max answered as Brody walked by his side, still holding his beer, to the front door.

“Gotcha,” Brody replied.

“Honey,” Max called to me when he had his hand on the door handle, “best get your rental papers.”

“Okay,” I replied, sliding off the stool and heading to the stairs.

“See ya later, Neens,” Mindy yelled as I wound my way up the stairs.

“Yes, darling, see you,” I yelled back.

“Nice to meet cha, Nina,” Brody called.

“You too,” I called back.

Then I hit the loft and went to my overnight bag.

One thing I could say for Damon and his antics, he’d provided the perfect tactic for avoiding Max’s afternoon plans.

Still, he was a dick.

***

I was sitting on my side of the bed finishing up my call to the rental car agency when Max hit the loft after sending Brody, Mindy and eventually Officer Pete on their way.

After I met Pete I decided if I were to stick around, if Jeff didn’t work out for Mindy I was going to try to fix her up with Pete. He wasn’t as cute as Jeff but he was still nice.

Unfortunately it was highly unlikely I’d find out what Mindy’s future held, since it was highly unlikely she’d keep in touch after I left Max and Gnaw Bone behind.

I tried not to think of how overwhelmingly upsetting this was, instead, I told myself I barely knew her. I didn’t believe myself, not even in the slightest, but that didn’t stop me from repeating it in my head with hopes it’d sink in.

“That’ll be fine,” I said into the phone as Max came to a stop, standing in front of me. “Great, see you then. Bye.”

It wasn’t great, I thought as I touched the button on the screen to end the call. Seeing as it was late Saturday, they weren’t sending anyone up until Monday. Which meant I’d have to come up the mountain to meet them there, unless Max would let them get to the car without me, seeing as I would, if it all worked out, be staying at the hotel probably holed up in my room in an effort to avoid my father and, undoubtedly, curled into a ball with seven boxes of Kleenex lamenting my hideous luck that Max could never be mine.

How, a week ago, I had a boring, predictable life where nothing happened and now everything was a complete and utter mess, I had no idea. I wasn’t rethinking my decision about Niles but I was rethinking my Colorado adventure and any future adventures I might be stupid, insane and irrational enough to consider taking.

Therefore on Monday afternoon, after the rental car person left, somehow, some way, I was heading to Denver and then I was changing my ticket and going straight home.

I could take no more of this.

I put the phone on the nightstand and looked up at Max. “They’re sending someone Monday.”

“Right,” he replied, standing weirdly close to me so I had to tip my head back really far to look at him then he asked, “How long’s it take you to get ready for somethin’ like The Rooster?”

It was a weird question to which I didn’t have enough information to provide a response. Furthermore, we had other things to talk about.

Still, for some reason instead of bringing up the other things we needed to talk about, I twisted on the bed, looked at Max’s bedside clock, seeing it was a four thirty. Then I looked back to him.

“When do we have to leave?”

“From here, in an hour.”

“It takes an hour to get there?”

“Yeah, how long’s it take you to get ready?”

“I don’t know. How fancy is this place?”

“For Colorado, fancy.”

Hmm.

“Guesstimate?” I told him. “Half an hour, forty-five minutes.”

His eyes went over my head to the clock then he muttered, “Not long, but it’s somethin’.”

Then he leaned down, put his hands under my armpits and suddenly I was lifted, Max’s knee was in the bed, I was hauled further onto it and then I was on my back, Max on me.

Drat. Just where I didn’t want to be.

Though with his heavy weight pressing me into the bed, I couldn’t help but think it felt like exactly where I wanted to be.

“Max –”

“Quiet, Duchess, we don’t got time to talk.”

“Max –” I said again as his lips hit mine.

“Quiet,” he repeated and then he kissed me.

I pressed against his shoulders and bucked my hips, both hopefully since he was big, heavy and, apparently, determined. My hopes were dashed, he stayed put and his tongue touched my lips. As much as I liked the feel, which was a lot, I twisted my head to the side. Undeterred, his tongue touched my neck.

That felt nice.

“Max.”

“What?”

“There’s something I need to say.”

“Yeah?”

I opened my mouth to say it but his tongue slid up my neck then traced the outside of my ear as his hand slid down my side then ducked under my sweater.

“Max,” I breathed since his tongue at my ear felt nicer than touching my neck, but I breathed it somewhat loudly.

“What, baby?” he murmured in my ear in his gravelly voice, my body shivered against my will, his hand slid up my belly then curled, warm and strong, around my breast.

Oh my God.

That felt beyond nice.

“Max –” I breathed again, a lot quieter this time, I was losing concentration since most of it was focusing on his hand and tongue.

“You keep sayin’ my name, Duchess, I’m right here.” Max was still talking in my ear but then his teeth nipped my earlobe as his thumb slid over my nipple.

Oh… my… God.

Of their own accord, my hands moved. One glided down his back, one went into his hair.

“Nina?” he called as his thumb slid back.

“Mm?” was all I could say as I felt my nipple go tight and I felt it in two very good places.

His head came up, his thumb did another swipe and my hips bucked involuntarily under him, this time not to push him off.

“You gonna let me kiss you now?” he asked, sounding amused.

“Unh-hunh,” I answered, unable to form words because his thumb was now rolling circles around my nipple and that was indescribably nice.

“Good,” he muttered and kissed me.

And he kissed me for a long time. While he did it his fingers yanked down my bra and his thumb went back to my nipple, joined by a finger, the rolling sharper, sweeter, infinitely so. It felt more than nice, it was bloody brilliant.

My fingers were in his hair, keeping his mouth to mine. I was kissing him back as my hand pulled his t-shirt from his jeans and explored, taking its time, memorizing with my fingertips the feel of him, silky but solid, just like Max, sweet and strong.

I got lost in his fantastic kiss, in the feel of his skin, his muscle, in the throb between my legs, I didn’t notice his hand leave my breast until his hips shifted to my side and his fingers ran over the zip of my jeans.

“Max?” I whispered against his lips as his hand cupped me between my legs, his fingers pressing in and my hips lifted into his hand as I breathed, “God.”

“I wanna touch you, honey,” Max said against my neck, his deep voice gruff.

“Okay,” I said back instantly, unsure what he meant seeing as he was pretty much touching me all over already but I was happy for him to do more of it however that came about.

Max didn’t explain and he also didn’t delay.

He unbuttoned the button on my jeans and slid down my zip then his hand slipped inside. He not only didn’t delay, he didn’t mess with my panties. He went right in, fingers against wet, sensitive flesh and the minute he touched me every nerve in my body zapped to life.

“Christ, I like that,” Max’s voice grated against my skin as his fingers explored.

I couldn’t be certain at that moment, since I wasn’t thinking all that clearly, but I suspected I liked it a whole lot more.

His mouth came back to mine as his fingers stopped exploring and found the prize. The instant he put on pressure, I moaned into his mouth and my hips bucked against his hand, telling him he’d honed in perfectly and hit the target with delightful precision.

“You like that?” he asked against my mouth.

“Yes,” I breathed against his as his finger put on more pressure and started circling then I breathed again, “Yes.”

It was building fast. He was good, his finger strong, firm, working miracles and it had been a long time, too long, ages.

My hand left his back and slid around his hip to his front, glancing over his crotch, finding him hard and liking that so much I felt a rush of wetness between my legs in response.

He pulled his hips away with a jerk and his hand slid out of my jeans.

“No,” I whispered, my eyes flying open when I lost the beauty of his touch.

His fingers circled my wrist and pulled it over my head where his other hand captured it. Then he held it there as his body settled back into me, imprisoning my other arm as it was around his back, my elbow cocked, my hand still in his hair.

“What –?” I started.

His hand slipped back inside my jeans and he muttered, “Not me, baby, you.”

“But –” I began again and stopped when he resumed his play between my legs and I couldn’t talk anymore, I could just feel.

“Feels so fuckin’ sweet, Duchess,” he muttered, his head up, his eyes, always beautiful, were more so now as desire was darkening them.

“Max –” I panted, my hips jerking under his hand, my wrist pulling against his hold, my fingers fisting in his hair. It was building again, fast, too fast and it felt good, too good, sensational.

“When I fuck you, wanna take my time,” he told me, his voice hoarse his gaze never shifting from my face.

I closed my eyes and arched my neck as the glorious pressure intensified.

His finger stopped but then it slid inside.

“Yes,” I whispered, my eyes still closed.

“Christ, honey,” Max growled.

“More,” I begged and he gave it to me, sliding his finger in and out in the space allowed but it felt good, tight, close, intimate, his thumb hitting me at my sweet spot again, circling as he finger fucked me.

His mouth came to mine as I got close.

“I can’t wait to get in there,” he muttered and my mouth opened under his, the moan gliding out as his tongue glided in and I came, hard, harder than ever before, and longer, so much longer, it felt, for tense, wondrous moments, like it would never end and I didn’t want it to.

And it was far more beautiful than anything I’d ever had.

Glorious.

Earth-shattering.

I came down slowly, my body feeling like golden, warm liquid. Sublime. Max kept his hand between my legs, his fingers slipping through my wetness, exploring, gentle, becoming intimately familiar in a way I liked. Tender, sweet, just like Max. His tongue was tracing my lower lip and his hand still held mine by the wrist over my head.

When I opened my eyes, I saw his were open too and he was watching me.

“How you feelin’?” he murmured against my mouth.

I felt great. And I felt scared out of my mind. And, for some reason, I blurted the latter.

“Scared.”

His fingers stopped moving and his hand cupped me as his brows drew together, his head went away an inch and his face filled with puzzled humor.

“What?”

Now what had I done?

“Max,” I whispered, “I –”

“Yeah,” he interrupted as understanding came to him, it wasn’t the correct understanding, not completely, but it was part of it. “You come harder than that when I fuck you, honey, you’ll split straight out of your skin.”

“Max –”

He kissed me softly and said, “Christ, Duchess, that was fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Max –”

“I nearly came just watchin’ you.”

My stomach dipped pleasantly.

“Max,” I breathed but he released my hand, pulled his other out of my jeans carefully, tugged me to my side and into his arms and his face went into my neck.

“Drenched by the time I touched you, soaked right before you came. Gonna love eatin’ you,” he said against my neck and my stomach dipped again, in a plummet this time.

“Max –”

His head came up and he grinned at me, so big he looked like he was about to laugh, as his arms got even tighter. “Baby, you keep callin’ me and I’m right fuckin’ here.”

He looked at me, waiting for me to speak and I found I didn’t know what to say.

Then I found myself saying, “I’m sorry.”

His head jerked and his fight with his amusement became far more visible.

Even his voice vibrated with it when he asked, “What?”

“I… um, you didn’t… I didn’t…” I closed my eyes tight then opened them and said, “that went really fast.”

“Good thing, considerin’ we don’t have much time.”

“But –” I started, he kissed me and I stopped.

“Like that you respond to me that way, Duchess.”

“It’s that, well, I respond to you –”

He smiled against my mouth, I felt it and I watched his eyes doing it and both were so marvelous, I stopped speaking.

“Oh yeah, you respond to me.”

I decided maybe I should stop talking altogether. I didn’t have my head or my body under my control and I didn’t seem to be able to finish a sentence anyway.

So I dipped my chin, tucked my face into his throat and slid my arms around his waist.

“How fast can you eat steak?” he asked the top of my head.

“I’m sorry?” I asked his throat.

“You need to make it record time, darlin’. I wanna get home in time to have my turn and I’ve noticed when you get tired you pretty much slip into a coma.”

My head tilted back and I felt my brows come together as I protested, “I don’t slip into a coma.”

He didn’t answer, he just raised his brows in return.

“Last night I drank nearly a bottle of wine by myself,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, and the night before?”

“You were with Mindy.”

“I walked up here to get Mins a t-shirt about five minutes after you came up and you were dead to the world.”

“I was not.”

“Babe, you were. I took the ice out of your hand and you didn’t even flinch.”

I’d wondered where that ice had gone.

I decided my best course of action was to stop talking about this as it appeared my arguments weren’t holding much weight.

I pulled my arms from his waist, put my hands on his chest and gave a shove, saying, “I need to go get ready.”

His head tilted back to look at the clock then his arms got tighter, locking mine between our bodies, rendering them useless.

“We got another twenty minutes,” he muttered then he lifted his head and his face disappeared in my neck again as his hand slid over my behind and pulled my hips into his.

My fingers curled into his shirt as I steeled myself against a reaction and I tipped my head back and looked at the clock.

Then my hands flattened on his chest and I cried, “We don’t have twenty minutes! I need to start getting ready now.”

His tongue slid up my neck to my jaw and then along it before he responded, “You can hurry.”

“Max! ‘Makeup’ and ‘hurry’ are two concepts that do not mix well together.”

His head came up and he looked at me. “Then wash it all off. You look just as pretty in the morning as you do right now.”

I felt my eyes grow wide in horror at the very thought and declared, “I am nowhere near ready to go Colorado mountain fresh makeup free like all the natural beauties that seem to populate Gnaw Bone.”

He grinned and repeated on a tease, “Colorado mountain fresh makeup free?”

I decided not to rise to the bait and snapped, “Max, let me go.”

I was pretty certain he was still teasing when he asked, “You sure you don’t want to hang out in bed for awhile and feel each other up?” However, even so, I paused to consider this idea as it seemed interesting and more than a little appealing.

This was a mistake and I knew it when Max burst out laughing and kissed me quickly before knifing out of bed, taking me with him when he did.

He set me on my feet and I concentrated on mentally solidifying my jellied legs as Max did up my jeans with swift, practiced hands then curled his fingers around the back of my head, pulling me to him and he kissed my forehead.

Then he turned and walked to the stairs, calling, “Want me to bring you a glass of wine?”

It was so very annoying when he was thoughtful.

“Yes,” I called back.

“Duchess,” he called again when I eventually turned to the bathroom. I stopped and looked to the stairs to see only his torso and head through the railings. “It might be fancy for Colorado but still, wear jeans.”

Then he kept winding down the stairs and I was thankful that he told me. I’d hate to be too dressed up, that would be awful.

Still, it was also thoughtful, which again was annoying.

***

I looked at myself in Max’s bathroom mirror, took in all that was me and whispered, “What on earth are you doing, Nina Sheridan?”

My reflection did not reply which was a bit frustrating since Charlie had also disappeared and I needed guidance.

I grabbed my empty wineglass from the tiled counter and walked into the bedroom. My eyes went to the clock and saw we were closing in on launch time so I hurried to my luggage, set the glass on the nightstand and dug through it to find my going out clutch.

I’d functioned on autopilot getting ready mainly because if I allowed my mind to wander to what happened on the bed, I didn’t know what I’d do. My options were to beg Max to call Brody and Mindy and tell them we’d go to The Rooster another night; find Max and tell him he was good with his hands, his mouth and other things as well and I was never leaving his house until the day I died; or put my arms around him and my lips to his ear and admit I was falling in love with him.

As none of those were healthy ways forward, autopilot it was.

However autopilot took me straight into a new debacle. For I’d washed my face and then applied Nina Going Out makeup which was heavier, smoky and likely seriously overdone for the Colorado Mountains. I’d also curled my hair, not in curls, but to give it more waves and body. Then I’d slid in a headband made of three, thin gold leather braids that I’d used to pull back my hair softly from my face and I’d separated the braids along my crown to affect a kind of Grecian Goddess look. I’d slipped on my white mesh camisole which was long, hugged my jeans at the hips (in fact, it hugged me everywhere) and had a low dip in the back. Under, it had a thin, stretchy, white camisole stitched in and on the outside it was covered entirely by little, gold sequins. Again likely overkill for the Colorado Mountains but I didn’t have anything that was fancy but not that fancy. Since I’d brought my strappy, stiletto-heeled, gold sandals to go with the top on the off chance I needed something dressy, the only thing I could do to tone down this ensemble was buck the gold in my hair, on my body and on my feet and I accessorized with nothing but my new silver earrings and Max’s ring.

I found my envelope clutch which was a soft, fawn suede, understated and not gold, pulled out my fawn-colored pashmina that had a hint of sheen but wasn’t overboard, spritzed with perfume, grabbed my wineglass and headed downstairs.

“Max?” I called when I hit the bottom and looked around to see he wasn’t in the kitchen or living room.

Maybe he got tired of waiting and he’d gone without me though I doubted this was the case and decided he was probably doing something Max-ish. Chopping wood. Building a barn. Saving a child in distress or climbing a tree to rescue a cat. Stuff like that.

I dropped the clutch and pashmina by my purse on the dining table, walked to the sink, cleaned the glass, set it in the dish drainer and walked back to my purse.

I’d put on my lip gloss and was filling my clutch with what I needed from my purse when I heard Max walk in from the back of the house.

I turned my head to see he was wearing his black leather jacket and he’d changed his jeans to a pair that was less faded but still faded. He had on a heavy black belt, black boots and a midnight blue shirt that had wine and dark gray stripes in it. His thick, dark hair was swept back from his face and how he got it to do that so perfectly (since I’d looked and found no products in his bathroom) was a mystery.

He looked good enough to eat.

I felt my breasts swell as I watched his eyes hit me and for some reason, when they did, he suddenly stopped.

“Ready,” I called with faux breeziness in an attempt to hide my response to his amazingness and I looked back to the clutch.

I was flipping it closed when I heard his boots on the wood floors and then I felt him get close.

My head came up as his arms circled me from behind, high at my ribs, his hand flattening at the side of my left breast. Then I felt him bury his face in my neck.

I froze.

“All right, Duchess,” he growled against my neck, “I won’t bitch about waitin’ for you to get ready if this is what I get.”

The nipples in my swollen breasts got hard as his compliment struck deep.

“Max,” I whispered.

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” he muttered, his nose brushing my ear and that coupled with his sweet talk sent a shiver along my skin.

My eyes caught on something sparkly and focused on our reflection in the window. Max, his face still in my neck, his big body in his dark clothes surrounding me; me, my light hair, my glittery top, snug and safe in his arms.

I liked what I saw so much, without thinking, my arms crossed and my hands covered his.

“We’re going to be late,” I said quietly, not able to tear my eyes from our reflection, not able to stop his words from making me warm, not able to call up all the reasons why he was so good, so wonderful, but he was no good for me. I could just call up all the reasons why he was so good and wonderful and got stuck on that.

His thumb moved to stroke the side of my breast and I melted back into him.

“Max, steak. I’m hungry,” I lied. I could eat, definitely, there was rarely a time when I couldn’t, but I would rather stay standing there in Max’s arms maybe for the rest of my life.

His head came up but his arms gave me a squeeze and he kissed my temple before letting me go.

“Steak, yeah,” he muttered with obvious lack of enthusiasm, he grabbed my hand, I grabbed my bag and scarf and he pulled me to the closet.

“Am I too fancy?” I asked, settling my scarf around my neck with difficulty as I also was holding my clutch in that hand as he opened the door, dropped my other hand, reached in and grabbed my coat.

He closed the door and his eyes hit me. I stopped breathing under the heat of his stare. Then he gave me a one word answer.

“No.”

He shook out my coat and held it up and I realized he was holding it for me to slide my arms into. I turned my back and did so, he settled it on my shoulders then his arms came around, his fingers curling around the edges of my coat and he brought it closer around me. I’d had men help me with my coat but not like that. As with everything Max, he did it far, far better.

He let my coat go, grabbed my hand and pulled me to the door.

We were standing outside while he locked it when he muttered, “Keep that top close.”

“Sorry?” I asked his profile and he turned to me, moving fast, all of a sudden he reached a hand out to curl around the back of my head and he yanked me forward so I had to put up both hands to break my fall. I did and they hit the hard wall of his chest.

“That top,” he said when he dipped his face close and I realized his voice sounded funny. It was intense but it was also hoarse like when we were fooling around and I understood why when he again spoke. “Tonight, when I fuck you, I want you naked. Later, I want you ridin’ my cock wearin’ nothin’ but that fuckin’ top.”

My knees buckled and my fingers curled, the nails of the hand not clutching my bag grazing his chest as they did so and I just stared at him unable to function mainly because I was lost in his eyes at the same time I was focused on what my body was feeling and I liked both of these things so much there was no room for anything else.

“Babe, you don’t move away, Mindy and Brody are gonna eat alone.”

“Okay,” I whispered but didn’t move.

We both stood there staring at each other unmoving in the cold night air on his porch.

His mouth twitched and he murmured his prompt, “Duchess.”

I jumped and pulled away, mumbling, “Right.”

He slung his arm around my shoulders and walked me to the passenger side of the Cherokee beeping the locks as he went. He opened my door and waited for me to pull myself in before he closed my door again.

I was buckling up and Max was rounding the hood when I realized he’d helped me with my coat and he’d opened my door.

I was in trouble. Wonder Max was getting even more wonderful, something I didn’t think was possible but there it was, all around me.

Drat.

Max got in, buckled in, started the truck and backed out. We were out of the lane and on our way and I was trying to pull myself together, remember all the reasons why Max equaled future disaster for me. I’d thought it through at lunch and I remembered I’d been pretty convinced. However, an amazing orgasm and Max’s brand of flattery seemed to have built an invisible wall against my mind travelling down that path.

Max’s hand found mine and his fingers laced through it, tugging it toward him and again resting the back of it against his hard thigh.

“Brody seems nice,” I said into the silence, suddenly wanting it filled so I wasn’t stuck in my head.

“He is,” Max replied and shared no further.

“How long have you two been friends?”

“Long’s I can remember,” Max answered. “He lived next to us while I was growin’ up. His Mom and Dad got divorced, his Dad moved away, remarried. His Mom remarried too, had Mindy and his Mom and stepdad still live next to my Mom.”

“Oh.”

He let my fingers go but, strangely, turned my hand and pressed the palm into his thigh, curling my fingers around its muscled contour. I pulled in a silent breath at this intimate gesture as he downshifted to take the turn, gained speed then his hand came back to mine and his fingers laced through.

I understood it then. This was Max’s way of telling me he didn’t want me to pull my hand away when he had to let me go.

Yes, I was right, Max was becoming more wonderful and I was in trouble.

I swallowed and out of nowhere thoughts assailed me. His sister telling me he was a player. His unfathomable relationship with Shauna. His talented hand between my legs. His inability or perhaps unwillingness to share important facts about his life.

And this last leading me to remember the photograph of him and Anna on their wedding day.

All of this reminding me that Max had once been married and bringing to mind the fact that, for what I deduced was a good while, he had not.

However, it was my guess and Kami’s insinuation that he had been busy.

None of which he’d shared with me but all of which he’d demanded I share with him.

“There were pictures in Bitsy’s house,” I blurted as he stopped at the intersection to the main road, his hand flattened mine on his thigh again and he looked to the left and right, waiting for his opportunity to turn.

“Yeah?” he asked distractedly and I slid my hand way.

He stopped looking left and right, his head twisted to me and his hand shot out and grabbed mine, bringing it back and pressing it against his thigh.

His voice was soft when he explained, “I like your touch, honey.”

I left my hand where it was because I liked his explanation probably better than he liked my touch. I did this even though my protective instinct was waking up and it was likely I did it not only because I liked his explanation but I also liked touching him.

His attention went back to the road, he found his opening, turned right and after he’d gained our cruising speed, his fingers laced in mine again.

“There were pictures of you,” I went back to my topic and Max’s hand squeezed mine.

“Not surprised,” Max replied off-handedly. “Bitsy likes photos and I’ve known her a long time.”

“How long?”

“Since school.”

“She a friend that long?”

“Yeah.”

“There was a picture of you and Curtis Dodd,” I told him. “It looked like you were friends.”

I thought he’d understand where I was leading with this and maybe share. But he didn’t or at least he didn’t share the important bits.

“Yeah, we were friends, long time ago. Brody, Curt and me hung out together in high school. We all played ball.”

“Ball?”

“Football.”

“Oh.”

He said no more and I waited, giving him his opening and he didn’t take it.

“What happened?” I asked softly, thinking I knew and bracing for impact.

“Lotsa shit,” Max answered and kept talking, “after school, Curt and me were in business together, construction, small jobs. He wanted to take it in a different direction, the one he took and he wanted me with him. He was determined and eventually got in my face. I didn’t like it, not him gettin’ in my face or what he planned to do and I knew the town wouldn’t either. I tried to talk him out of it. He didn’t listen.”

He stopped speaking and I waited again for him to share further.

He didn’t.

“But you stayed close to Bitsy,” I remarked.

“Yeah,” he replied and he started to move his thumb, using it to stroke the back of my hand.

That felt nice in a way that interfered with my ability to put together the words to tell him I’d seen his wedding photo when Max changed the subject.

“Got an idea.”

“An idea?”

“Yeah.”

“What idea?”

“Next week, I’ll introduce you to George.”

“George?”

“Attorney in town, only one we got. Last time I talked to him he was talkin’ about expanding, findin’ a partner. All the new folks around, work’s pilin’ up.”

My heart started beating faster and I said softly, “Max –”

But Max kept talking, proving that while my mind was on future disaster, Max’s mind was on other things entirely. “Best season to rent the house is winter. The A-Frame is in demand, I jack up the rent and, still, it’s booked solid, back-to-back. Construction dies down in winter too, jobs less easy to find. You and me can go to your brother’s house after Thanksgivin’, come back February, March. That enough for you?”

He was planning our future.

And it sounded like a good plan, a thoughtful plan, a generous plan. Max giving me what I needed, time in Charlie’s house, time to spend in England, my other home. It was, if we could swing it financially, the perfect compromise.

Even so, I informed him quietly, “Max, we’ve known each other a week.”

His hand squeezed mine and he asked, “And?”

I looked at him and repeated incredulously, “And?”

“Yeah,” he replied, not taking his eyes from the road, “and?”

“We barely know each other,” I explained unnecessarily.

“Met your Dad, heard your history with all those dicks and your Mom likes me,” he said and this was, of course, all true. “Also seen you pissed, sick, sweet, you love my house and it’s fair to say we got chemistry.”

“Yes, but –”

“No ‘but’, just ‘yes’.”

“Yes, but, that’s insane.”

He glanced at me and asked, sounding like he was getting annoyed, “Why the fuck’s it insane?”

“Max, we’ve known each other a week,” I repeated.

“You like the town?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s pretty.”

“You like Mindy, Arlene, Cotton, Becca, Bitsy?”

“Of course.”

“They like you too.”

That, I had to admit, felt nice since I liked them all a whole lot.

However, for sanity’s sake, I kept fighting my corner and explained, “Max, you don’t make decisions like this on the fly.”

His hand tightened in mine and it was so tight it almost hurt.

“So… what? You’re sayin’ you sit, you wait, you let life slide by while you decide to make the decision you were gonna make in the first damned place and hope to God some shit doesn’t happen, like you get in a car accident, lose your legs or worse, your fuckin’ life.”

I felt my chest freeze at what I read in his words so I could do nothing but breathe, “Max –”

He maybe didn’t hear me for he kept speaking. “Say you just lose your legs then you got the rest of your life to think about all those months you wasted, not livin’ it.”

That I knew too well.

Still, I whispered, “Max –”

But he knew I knew it and his voice dipped softer, he was still irate but he was attempting to be gentle. “I figure, what you went through with your brother, Duchess, you get it.”

“I just got out of a relationship,” I explained, latching onto another defense, no matter how lame.

“You didn’t just get out of that relationship, Nina, you been out of it for awhile, you just recognized you were.”

God, it was so annoying how bloody smart he was.

I yanked at my hand to no avail so I let it relax but twisted my head to look out the window and suggested sharply, “Let’s not talk about this.”

“Why? Because you know I’m right?”

I twisted my head back to him and used my words as an accusation, a loud one, a loud one that bounced around the cab. “You’re moving too fast!”

“Found somethin’ I want, don’t tend to fuck around when that happens, Duchess. Ever.”

Although his words made my belly feel kind of squishy in a good way, my mind reminded me he was annoying.

“Perhaps, Macho Mountain Man Max, you’ll give me a second to breathe and get my head sorted before I decide to turn my life on a dime. Or would that be asking too much?” I queried sarcastically.

“You don’t wanna breathe, babe, you wanna find time to repair your shield to hold me back. Since I’m guessin’ I got in more than your pants today the answer is, yeah, that’s askin’ too much.”

I yanked at my hand, again to no avail, gave up and snapped, “God, you’re so annoying.”

“You fight with Niles?” Max asked suddenly.

“No.”

“Never?”

“No! And stop asking about Niles,” I demanded.

He ignored my demand and kept questioning. “Didn’t care enough to fight, didn’t match you in fire or was so lazy, he just put up with your shit?”

My head shook back and forth, short, angry shakes.

Then I repeated, “My shit?”

“Yeah, babe, your shit.”

I crossed my one free arm on my chest, it wasn’t much but I suspected it made somewhat of a statement, and declared, “I’m not talking about this.”

“That’s what I thought,” Max said, not sounding annoyed anymore but amused. “All of ‘em, didn’t care, no fire and lazy as hell.”

I looked out the passenger side window unable to retort since he was correct, on all counts.

“Poor Nina,” Max muttered, lifting my hand in his and I felt his lips against my knuckles before he dropped it back to his thigh and he finished, still muttering, “you must have been bored outta your fuckin’ brain.”

I turned to look at him and announced, “Regardless of the fact that Brody has been your friend since childhood and you undoubtedly wish for me to make a good impression, I’m giving you fair warning that I am, as of now, officially no longer speaking to you.”

This made him burst out laughing. I turned my head away and commenced fuming.

His hand gave mine another squeeze and he said, “Have at it, Duchess, Brody got you the minute you put your arms around Mindy this afternoon. You could probably set fire to the Cherokee in The Rooster’s parking lot and Brody’d still like you.”

“Don’t give me any ideas,” I muttered.

“Thought you weren’t speakin’ to me.”

I clamped my mouth shut, tried once more to yank my hand from his, failed, gave up and continued fuming while Max chuckled thinking all this was hilarious.

So.

Annoying.

***

The Rooster was an enormous, beautiful building set high on the side of a mountain, a twisting, windy road leading to it. It’s inside lights ablaze, it had so many windows you could see through it.

I had, during the journey, managed to stay true to my vow and didn’t speak to Max. For his part, he proved a new way he could be annoying for this didn’t appear to bother him in the slightest. In fact, after five minutes of silence, he let my hand go and turned on his MP3 player, filling the cab with seventies rock music. Good seventies rock music and I noted irately that Max even had good taste in music something else I decided to find annoying.

I had, of course, taken this opportunity to pull my hand away.

To that, Max had, of course, grabbed my elbow, yanked my arm to him, trailed his hand down it until he caught mine and pulled it right back.

I didn’t fight this. Max was stronger than me and it would just be humiliating when I lost.

Now he had no choice but to let me go in order to park and once the ignition was switched off I unbuckled my seatbelt, opened the door and jumped down. I then started marching toward the front door of the restaurant as fast as my high-heeled sandals would carry me.

My swift progress was hindered when Max’s arm came around my shoulders and he hauled me into his side with such force I slammed against his hard body, my arm automatically wrapped around his waist and, for comfort’s sake (I told myself), stayed there. I made no protest and Max said no words. Thus we walked the rest of the way together.

He opened the door for me and I saw the inside was not just windows but also gleaming, light wood; super high ceilings; some well-chosen Cotton prints; some antlers; a lot of comfortable looking booths both big and small; and not a lot of tables but the chairs weren’t restaurant chairs, they were cozy, high-backed armchairs, inviting you to stay awhile.

I decided I liked this place when I spied Mindy and Brody and started to smile but Max stopped us, his arm curled me toward his front and his mouth went to my ear.

“Somethin’ you should know, Duchess.”

I yanked my head back, Max lifted his and I glared at him silently.

He scanned my face, looked into my eyes and grinned then continued, “When I met you, my first thought was you were very pretty, great fuckin’ eyes, but not my type, high class which means high maintenance. Then you got pissed and that was it. Even if you hadn’t been in that ditch, now you’d still be in my bed. So if you think this attitude is a turn off, baby, you’re wrong.”

I didn’t know what to do with that as it gave me nothing to go on but I didn’t have a chance to do anything because Max curled me back to his side and led us to Mindy and Brody.

When we stopped and Max’s hands moved to take my coat, I announced boldly, “You should know, Max and I are fighting and I won’t be speaking to him throughout dinner. I hope that won’t ruin anyone’s night.”

Mindy’s eyes got huge and Brody stared at me a second before he burst out laughing. Max, the jerk, could be heard chuckling behind me. Then he put a hand in the small of my back and pushed me into our booth.

I watched him hand our coats off to a white shirt, black pants, long black tie, long white apron wearing waitress and then he sat beside me, not delaying in sliding his arm along the booth behind my back. I unwound the scarf from around my neck and tucked it next to me with my clutch when Brody spoke.

“Well,” Brody started, still smiling, “this’ll make an already rocky evening even more interesting.”

“What?” Max asked and Mindy, sitting on the inside of the booth across from me, leaned forward.

“Kami’s here,” she whispered.

I leaned forward too and whispered back, “Oh my God.”

“It’s worse,” Brody declared. “Shauna’s here too.”

Mindy nodded to me and I repeated, far more appalled this time, “Oh my God.”

“And… get this!” Mindy said. “Harry!”

“Shit,” Max muttered and it took all my control not to look around the room.

“Where?” I asked Mindy.

“We’re the center,” Mindy explained. “Kami’s at one o’clock, Shauna’s at five and Harry’s at nine.”

“We’re surrounded,” I murmured, my voice horrified.

“Yep,” Mindy agreed and sat back.

Max’s arm curled around my shoulders, his other hand coming to my jaw and he turned my body and face to him.

Then he suggested bizarrely, “Feel like makin’ out?”

“I’m sorry?” I replied snottily, forgetting from his strange suggestion that I wasn’t talking to him.

“It’ll piss Shauna off,” Max answered. “Kami too, I figure.”

This idea had merit and therefore I considered it.

This was a mistake because Max knew I was considering it, he found this amusing therefore he burst out laughing, pulled me even closer and kissed me hard but not long, doing so even while he was mostly laughing.

His mouth broke from mine and he was spared the edge of my tongue as the waitress returned and asked, “Get you some drinks?”

“Vodka martini, up with an olive and lose the vermouth, please,” I ordered, she nodded, bent her head and scribbled and Max gave me a squeeze, gaining my attention.

“Duchess, you’re in altitude.”

“And?”

“And you had a glass of wine at home. You gotta be careful with booze when you’re not used to altitude.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You weren’t fine when you had a bottle of wine last night. You were out like a light.”

“I was tired. It was late. Now, it’s six thirty.”

“It wasn’t late, it was nine at night.”

My brows drew together and I asked, “It was?”

“Yeah, honey, it was.”

That was news; it seemed a whole lot later.

“Oh,” I muttered.

“Take it easy, all I’m askin’,” Max said on a squeeze of my shoulder.

“All right,” I agreed and Max turned to the waitress.

“Coors,” he ordered, she nodded and wandered away.

“Lucky man, Max, seein’ as Nina’s silent treatment lasts about two seconds. Most women I know can hold onto it for days,” Brody told Max but his eyes were on me and I could tell he was teasing.

“Not quite, she was silent most of the drive here,” Max shared.

“I could never do the silent treatment, I get too wound up,” Mindy added.

“What are you two fightin’ about anyway?” Brody asked nosily.

“Nothing,” I replied immediately.

“Nina movin’ here,” Max said over my word.

“Max!” I snapped, twisting my neck to look at him.

“You’re moving here! Awesome!” Mindy screeched very, very loudly and many of the other patrons turned to look.

In fact, when I swept my eyes self-consciously across the restaurant, I spotted Shauna who, from the look in her eyes which were glaring ice daggers at me, heard every word.

As embarrassed as I was, since she was with another man thus rubbing Harry’s nose into her betrayal further, I forced an expression of surprised delight on my face, lifted my hand and gave her a happy, “Hey, I know you!” wave.

She turned away.

“Christ, you’re cute,” Max muttered and I looked at him then caught Brody and Mindy both turning back from checking out Shauna, Mindy giggling, Brody grinning.

Our menus, at that point, arrived. Our drinks came not long after.

Kami came after we’d placed our food order and were enjoying a basket of fresh, warm, delicious bread.

She stood at the end of our table, her eyes were locked on Brody and she said not a word of greeting to her brother, Mindy or me.

“Brody, you’re home,” she announced as if Brody brought the black cloud of plague and death to Gnaw Bone upon his dastardly arrival.

“Yep,” Brody answered the obvious but shared no greeting either.

Her eyes came to me and she said, “Nina, congratulations, I see you’ve made it a week.”

I opened my mouth but Max got there before me.

On a sigh, he ordered, “Kami, tone it down.”

Kami’s eyes went to her brother and she asked in a way that stated she thought I shredded them then doused them with gasoline and set them afire, “Did Nina give you the papers?”

“Yep.”

“You talk to Trev?”

“Nope.”

“Max,” she hissed and in doing so got his full attention. Or I could say his full, scary attention. So scary I couldn’t help myself and partially shrunk away from him.

“Not gonna tell you again, Kami, that ain’t happenin’.”

“So, it’s up to me to take care of Mom all the time.”

“She’s not invalid.”

“She’s a pain in the ass.”

“So don’t give into her shit.”

“Easy for you to say, and do, not bein’ here hardly ever.”

“Maybe we can talk about this later when I’m not spendin’ time with Brody, who I rarely see.”

Kami didn’t feel like being generous and therefore asked, “You rarely see Mom and me either, Brody more important than family?”

“Yeah, Kami, if Brody walked up to my table at a nice restaurant, said shit to my woman and got in my face, he wouldn’t be too important. Seein’ as he don’t treat me like dirt then he is.”

Kami’s face got red, I took a hasty sip of my martini thinking I’d need it and my eyes slid to Mindy who looked pale, her eyes were wide but she still appeared to be trying hard not to laugh.

Kami appeared to have found a new direction for her ugliness because her eyes came to me and I was glad I took that sip of martini.

Then she looked back to Max and asked, “You gonna jerk her around like you did Shauna?”

Mindy gasped. Brody sucked in an audible breath and straightened. Max just straightened.

“Kami, careful, now you’re pissin’ me off,” Max stated in a tone that underlined his words unmistakably.

“She know?” Kami asked, either not processing or ignoring Max’s threat. “She know what you did to Shauna?”

“She knows we were together, she knows now we’re not,” Max returned. “You wanna carry on this conversation, we’ll do it outside.”

“You don’t want her to know,” Kami shot back and Max slid out of the booth but Kami’s eyes came to me. “Led her on, took her ring shoppin’ then scraped her off, givin’ her no reason whatsoever. Just ended it,” and she lifted up her hand and gave a loud snap with her fingers.

“Where’d you hear that shit?” Brody asked, his tone scathing.

“Shauna told me,” Kami answered.

“Shauna lied,” Max stated, his hand on Kami’s arm. “We’re finishin’ this elsewhere.”

She pulled her arm out of his hold and took a step back, accusing, “Shauna and I have been friends since forever and you treat her like that?”

Well that explained the attitude about Max and his supposed player status. Shauna had fed Kami lies and Kami, being what I knew of Kami, lapped it up.

My eyes went to Mindy and she bugged hers out at me in a “See!” look.

“Kami –” Max began but she kept talking.

“That’d be like me messin’ with Brody’s head.”

“Like that’d happen,” Brody muttered, visibly shivering in revulsion at the thought and it was my turn to fight back a laugh and I did so by taking another healthy sip of my martini.

Kami gave him a glare then turned to Max and dealt her death blow. “Or like when you fucked things up with me and Curt.”

My head snapped around at this interesting news and I stared at Kami.

“Uh-oh,” Mindy muttered.

“Kami, for fuck’s sake,” Max bit out.

“Christ, Kami, that was twenty years ago,” Brody put in.

“Not quite,” Kami snapped.

“You wanna do this here, great,” Max stated and crossed his arms on his chest. “Curt fucked things up with you and him, not me. He always wanted Bitsy, Kami, even when he was with you. He got his chance, he took it. Truth hurts but there it is. Curt’s dead, Bitsy’s broken and it’s time for you to get the fuck over it.”

“Bitsy’s not broken, she may be stuck in that chair but she’ll be rollin’ in Curtis’s money for the rest of her life.”

This utterly nasty comment was when I felt it necessary to intervene, why, I didn’t know, it was insane. But I did it.

“You’re a cow,” I declared and her eyes narrowed on me.

“What’d you call me?”

“A cow. We use that expression in England when we’re talking about a bitter, whinging woman.”

“What’s ‘whinging’?” Mindy asked on a whisper and I didn’t take my eyes off Kami as I answered.

“Moaning, complaining, nagging, bitching. That’s whinging.”

Kami leaned forward and hissed, “The nerve.”

“No, nerve is described in England as ‘cheek’, otherwise known as audacity or impudence, demonstrated by you walking up to our table and being a cow.”

“Nina,” Max muttered but he didn’t sound angry anymore, he sounded the opposite.

It was Max’s sister and if he didn’t want me to have a verbal altercation with her that was his call. I’d said my piece anyway.

So I sat back, drained my glass and declared, “I need another martini.”

“You gave up Shauna so you could end up with the likes of that?” Kami asked, gesturing with her hand at me.

Kami’s comment about Bitsy had been my final straw. Her insult to me was Max’s.

“I gave up Shauna because she was fuckin’ Curt at the same time she was fuckin’ me, hedgin’ her bets and tryin’ to talk Curt into leavin’ Bitsy so she could land him if she didn’t manage to land me. And I gave her up because, once she thought she was in, she was mostly a bitch and thought she could lead me around by my dick. She couldn’t, she didn’t like that, so she got even bitchier. When I finally scraped her off, she latched onto Harry who she could lead around by his dick at the same time spendin’ his money and fuckin’ around on him. Now, you got your explanation, you got your scene, go sit the fuck down and, I swear to Christ Kami, you don’t leave the drama behind next time I see you, I won’t fuckin’ see you. Yeah?”

My goodness. Max, I realized, was mostly patient in his Mountain Man way but when he was done being patient, he didn’t take any shit either.

“High and mighty, always were,” Kami shot back, still raring to go.

Max shook his head. He was done and I knew this because he slid in beside me and looked at Brody, remarking, “Remind me to thank you for this great fuckin’ idea. Steaks at The Rooster. Fuckin’ brilliant.”

“Don’t blame me,” Brody muttered, grinning.

“Waitress!” I called, lifting up my martini glass when I caught her eye and then circling it around the table indicating she should bring a fresh round for all.

“I love your top, Neens, I forgot to say,” Mindy told me.

“Oh yes, darling, and yours is lovely. I forgot to say that too,” I replied.

“And that thing in your hair,” Mindy continued. “It’s fab.”

“Thanks,” I smiled at her.

Kami emitted an annoyed, unladylike snort and stomped away.

When her lingering malevolent presence wafted away on her heels, Max’s arm came around me and he suggested, “Maybe we should put Kami in a room with your Dad, see who’s the last one standing.”

I looked at Max and proclaimed, “Dad would kick her ass.”

Max grinned and stated, “Babe, Kami ain’t no slouch.”

“I can see, still, Dad hadn’t given me the good stuff this morning. Probably jetlagged.”

Max was still grinning when he muttered, “That ain’t good news Duchess.”

“What’s this about?” Mindy asked and Max and I looked at her.

“Nina’s Dad’s a dick,” Max answered bluntly.

“What?” It was Brody’s turn to ask.

I explained, “My ex-fiancé told my father I was here and my father is concerned about losing the social status he was counting on gaining through my marriage. Therefore my father flew out here to tell me I was making a big mistake, he did so this morning in his uniquely insulting way, managing also to utter slurs against Max who he doesn’t even know before Max had to chase him out of his house. However he hasn’t left town which means he’s at the hotel in Gnaw Bone likely planning to hatch a sinister scheme against Max, me, both of us, the town of Gnaw Bone and all its inhabitants or maybe even the entire county.”

Mindy and Brody both stared silently at me.

“Like I said,” Max summed up, “Nina’s Dad’s a dick.”

“Wow, you’ve really had a bad day,” Mindy said softly.

She didn’t know the half of it.

“Thus me ordering another martini,” I replied on a teasing smile.

Max’s arm gave me a squeeze but when I looked at him he was looking at Brody. Then he spoke in a tone that could only be read one way and that was extreme approval.

“You should have seen her with her Dad this morning, Brody. Christ, she chewed him up and spit him out. Thought I’d have to get out the mop and clean the floor.”

Brody grinned but noted, “Bro, not sure that bodes well for you.”

“I’m not a dick,” Max replied. “I’ve noticed Nina saves the lethal stuff for bitches and dicks. Me, even pissed, she’s tame.”

My eyes narrowed on him and I asked, “Tame?”

Max’s eyes came to me and he murmured, “Honey, with me, your claws are like a kitten’s.”

Mindy giggled. Brody chuckled. My eyes narrowed further and our appetizers arrived.

***

I’d finished martini number two and was enjoying the final sips of the glass of full-bodied, delightful red wine I had with my now consumed, utterly delicious steak, its accompanying sautéed mushrooms and loaded baked potato after an individual, baked camembert, my appetizer, which was superb when our next incident hit.

Shauna.

Brody spoke first and he did it the instant his eyes hit her standing at the end of the table.

“Seriously?” he asked disbelievingly.

She ignored him and everyone else. She only had eyes for Max.

“Max, can we talk a second?” she asked politely, her voice unlike it was the night of the buffalo burgers. It was lower, sultry, cajoling.

“Nope,” Max replied curtly and I noted happily he was immune to her sultry cajoling.

She leaned in and said softly, “Honey, please.”

I was, unfortunately, even though Max asked me to be careful, slightly inebriated. Therefore when she called Max “honey”, I was not in any shape to fully consider my response as in, perhaps not have one at all.

Instead, my happiness about Max’s immunity to Shauna melted clean away, my back went ramrod straight, I looked at Mindy and I asked loudly, “Did she just call Max ‘honey’ in front of me?”

“Fuck,” Max muttered and his arm wound around my waist, pulling my lower body tight to his.

“I think she did,” Mindy whispered, her face again pale and she was watching me closely likely uncertain whether to jump across the table and hold me down or jump into the fray with me.

I looked at Shauna and told her, “You just called Max ‘honey’.”

“I’m sorry, Nina, this’ll only take a minute,” Shauna said, having decided that she was not a cold, heartless, cheating, she bitch from hell but, tonight, she was sugar sweet on the surface, however still unsuccessfully hiding the heartless, cheating, she bitch from hell she was to her core.

“No, it won’t take a minute, Shauna, because in one second you’re going to walk away.”

“Nina, honey,” Max murmured.

I threw out a hand my eyes glued to Shauna and declared grandly, “I got this.”

Max’s arm tightened and he said, “Shauna, Nina’s unpredictable when riled. Do yourself a favor, take off.”

“Max, seriously, this is important,” Shauna replied.

“Let’s go back to you calling Max ‘honey’,” I suggested.

“Nina, again, sorry but I really need a word with Max,” Shauna pushed.

“I might have been willing to allow that had you not called him ‘honey’ right… in… front… of… me. Now you’ll get one over my cold, dead body,” I retorted.

“Baby, calm down,” Max said on another squeeze.

“It slipped, habit,” Shauna said, the ice queen frosting her features for a second before she could hide it, her words meant to remind me she’d enjoyed Max, even if just for awhile then she fought it back and said, again low and fake sweet, “Sorry, really.”

“Apology accepted,” I declared magnanimously. “Now please, we’re nearing dessert, the best part of the meal. Don’t ruin it.”

She looked back at Max and said, “Max, you know I wouldn’t bother you if it wasn’t important.”

“Spit it out, Shauna, and go,” Brody ordered, sounding impatient.

She didn’t pry her eyes from Max. “It’s private. Max, please.”

Max’s mouth got tight as he tired of her game and stated, “We don’t share anything private, Shauna.”

“Max,” she begged and Max’s patience slipped too.

“Honest to God, Shauna, Brody’s in town and we’re tryin’ to have a nice meal. What the fuck?”

She realized she was getting nowhere so she changed tacks and announced, “I’m pregnant.”

The air at our table went static.

I was watching Max, my lungs burning due to the fact I was not breathing, wondering when he “scraped her off” and if there was a possibility this child was his as I watched him blink slowly.

Then he growled in his now lethally dangerous, deep, gravelly voice, “Come again?”

“Can we talk privately?” she repeated.

“No, Shauna, why are you tellin’ me this shit?” Max asked.

“Because it’s Curt’s.”

“Holy crap,” Mindy whispered.

“Jesus Christ,” Brody muttered.

“Oh my God,” I breathed.

“What the fuck?” Max clipped.

She squatted at the table beside Max and looked up at him.

“Max, you have to talk to Bitsy,” she entreated.

“Why in the hell would I do that?” Max asked.

“Because this is Curt’s baby. Because Curt would have taken care of me, of the baby. He told me so. And because, now, Curt’s gone,” Shauna explained.

“You have got to be shittin’ me,” Max bit out and I could tell he was beyond angry, he was building up to enraged and it was my turn to put my arm around his waist.

“Can we talk about this privately?” she asked again.

“No, Shauna, fuck, I don’t wanna talk about this at all. I don’t even wanna know this shit.”

She shuffled closer and put her hand on Max’s knee and my eyes honed in on it as she begged, “Curt would take care of me, you know it, you know he would. I can’t afford to raise a baby by myself.”

“Are you mad?” I asked and her eyes sliced to me.

“What?” she asked back.

“Mad? Insane? Crazy? Nutty? Bonkers? Round the twist? Mad?” I explained, my voice rising.

“Of course not,” she snapped.

“Then first, get your hand off Max’s knee,” I snapped back and her hand shot away like Max’s skin burned. “Second, trot away and find someone else who might be heartless enough to help you try to fleece Bitsy out of money. You have got to know Max would never do that.”

“It’s Curt’s child and that’s Curt’s money and Max knew Curt and knows Bitsy and everyone knows Max is fair.”

“And you were sleeping with Curt when he was married to Bitsy,” I retorted. “Hard knocks but you live by the sword, Shauna, you must be prepared to die by it.”

Her eyes narrowed and the frost started setting in. “What does that mean?”

“That means you played with fire now you’ve been burned. Live with it. Now, honestly, just go away.”

“This is none of your business,” she snapped, standing, the mask slipping completely, now she was staring ice daggers at me.

“Sorry? I’m sleeping in Max’s bed. They were my jeans Max’s hand was down tonight. But it was you who called Max ‘honey’, you who put your hand on him right in front of me and you who walked up to our table, interrupting a lovely evening and laying this rubbish on us. So I’m making it my business. Go away.”

“We’re talkin’ about an innocent baby here,” Shauna returned.

“We’re talking about you still digging for gold even though the vein has run dry and having the sheer gall to walk up to Max in a nice restaurant and try to drag him into it!” I shot back.

“What’s happening here?” a man asked and I looked over Max’s shoulder with hopes of seeing a manager or someone of that ilk but Harry was standing there.

“Fuckin’ A,” Brody mumbled.

Max slid out of the booth. “Everything’s fine, Harry, Shauna was just leavin’.”

Harry ignored Max and stared at Shauna, asking, “Why’re you botherin’ Max and Nina?”

“Harry –” Shauna was back to her fake sugar sweet pleading tone.

“Thinkin’ you can fuck Nina over like you fucked over Bitsy and me?” Harry asked loudly and I studied him somewhat drunkenly, thinking he was a lot less goofy when he was angry.

“Can we go somewhere private?” Shauna asked demurely.

“No, everyone in the restaurant already knows you’re a fuckin’ slut, why would we need to be private about it?”

“Fuckin’ A,” Brody repeated on a mumble and also stood. “Harry, man, seriously, let’s you and me take a walk.”

“Yeah,” Harry answered. “We’ll take a walk, when Shauna takes a hike.”

“Harry,” I called. “Why don’t you pull up a chair, have a drink with us?”

Harry glanced down at me then his eyes cut back to Shauna. “I’d like that, Nina, and I’ll be happy to oblige, soon as Shauna slithers away.”

“Is there a problem, Shauna?” the man who was having dinner with Shauna was now there.

“Yikes-o-rama,” Mindy whispered and I gave her a wide-eyed look.

“It’s fine, Robert,” Shauna replied.

“You should calm down and sit down,” Robert unwisely advised Harry and he did it in a somewhat threatening way.

“Yeah? I should?” Harry asked, still loud. “She fuckin’ you now? ‘Cause you should know, a week ago she was fuckin’ me, Curtis Dodd and God knows who else.”

“As I said, you should calm down,” Robert repeated, stepping forward and Brody brought up a hand to hold him back.

“Boys, this needs to go outside,” Max ordered, getting closer to Harry.

“Fair warning, Robert,” Harry declared. “She’ll suck your dick great but, bein’ a woman and able to multitask and all that shit, she’ll have her hand in your wallet while she’s doin’ it.”

I gasped. Mindy giggled. The manager approached way too late because Robert shook off Brody’s hand and advanced, swinging, connecting with Harry’s jaw and Harry went flying.

There were some shrieks as Harry landed on a table, taking it down to its side, glasses, plates and salt and pepper shakers going flying. He righted himself, turned and charged, bent double. He hit Robert in the belly with his shoulder and took him back six feet into another table. Glasses spilled, plates crashed and the patrons jumped away as Robert landed then pushed up. Harry couldn’t find his feet, wrapped his arms around Robert and they both went to the ground, wrestling around, grunting and cursing at each other.

I got up to my knees in the booth to watch them as did Mindy.

This didn’t last long. Max and Brody waded in, Max taking Harry by the back collar and jeans, lifting him up to his feet and pushing him off. Brody did the same with Robert, pushing him in the opposite direction.

“Dumbass, motherfucker!” Harry yelled, steak juice, ketchup and horseradish sauce and what looked like wine, butter and sour cream too on his shirt, Max’s hand in his chest, pushing him back toward the front door.

“Cool it, Harry,” Max clipped still pushing at his chest, Harry shuffling backward, “outside.”

I watched until the door closed behind Max, Harry turned jerkily toward the front steps, Max’s hand came to his upper back and they walked out of sight. Then I looked the other way and Robert and Brody had disappeared out a glass door that led to a back patio. Shauna, too, had vanished from sight.

“Wow,” Mindy breathed and I looked at her then she smiled bright. “Neens, babe, you’re a totally fun date.”

I grinned shakily at Mindy, something caught the corner of my eye, I lunged to the side, grabbed our scuttling waitress by the wrist and asked, “I know you’ve got clean up but when you get a chance can I have an Amaretto on the rocks? A big one.”

“Sure,” she muttered distractedly.

“And you have one too,” I told her. “Put it on our bill.”

Her eyes focused on me and she said, “Hey, thanks.”

I waved my hand, got off me knees and sat on my behind. “No problems,” I muttered, took a deep breath and looked at Mindy. “You think we’ll ever go out without the night ending in men fighting?”

“This one was more fun than the last,” Mindy commented.

“Yes, this is true,” I agreed.

“Still, it might get old,” Mindy said on a smile.

“This is true too.”

“I’ve never had Amaretto. That isn’t a big seller at The Dog. Should I try one?”

“You have to taste Amaretto before you die,” I informed her, my words dramatic but they were also true.

“Then that’s a yes.”

I smiled at her. She smiled back.

***

“My favorite part…” we were all standing beside the Cherokee, me swaying slightly and Brody was reminiscing about our night, “was when Nina told Shauna she was in your bed and your hand was down her jeans. That was fuckin’ awesome.”

“Say goodnight, Brody,” Max ordered.

Brody grinned. “Just sayin’.”

“I liked it when Nina came up with all those words for crazy,” Mindy added, also feeling like waxing poetic about our fun filled evening. “I didn’t even know there were that many words.”

“I forgot barking,” I informed Mindy.

“I so have to live in England. You all talk killer,” Mindy exclaimed.

“And barmy,” I went on.

“Cool!” Mindy cried.

“And loopy, batty and crackers,” I carried on.

Max opened the passenger side door and his hands went to my hips. “Say goodnight, Nina.”

“’Night!” I called when Max’s hands turned my body toward the door and then lifted me up so I had no choice but to crawl in.

“’Night, Neens!” Mindy called back.

“Yeah, Neens, later. Max, bro, be safe,” Brody said.

“Always,” Max muttered and slammed my door.

Max disappeared from the window but suddenly Mindy was there. I smiled at her through the window then saw her flatten her hand on it. I lifted my hand and flattened it against hers. She gave me a funny, little smile that I didn’t quite understand before her hand disappeared and she walked away.

I hummed while I fastened my seatbelt and Max got in beside me. My mind was on Mindy being so very sweet as well as the baked, marble cheesecake I most recently consumed, washing it down with Amaretto.

“In a good mood?” Max asked, starting the truck.

“I love Mindy,” I announced.

“Figure she loves you too, Duchess, you’re a match made in hell.”

I didn’t really listen to his words, I just kept talking. “That cheesecake was yummy.”

“You blitzed?” Max asked, his hand on the back of my seat, his torso twisted to look out the rear window to pull out.

“I’m tipsy, not blitzed.”

Max twisted back and pulled into the road. “What chance I got you won’t pass out on the way home?”

I waved my hand in front of me and declared, “Oh, I’ll be fine.”

“Right,” Max muttered.

“Can we listen to music?” I requested and Max turned on the music.

Five minutes later I was dead to the world.