Page 1 of Tempting Max

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GUS (AUGUSTA)

Iinhale sharply and mount the three remaining steps to the door of Redpoint Brewery.You can do this, Gus.It’s time to stand on your own. My hand falls on the door handle and my heart migrates to my throat when I pull it open. A blast of frigid air takes my breath away as I step in, and I lose myself for a moment marveling at the space.

The high, open ceilings, gleaming chrome, sparkling glass, and polished wood are just like every other microbrewery I’ve ever been to. But the original brick walls and carefully restored ornate crown moldings make me feel like I have a foot in two different centuries. It’s supremely inviting and when I turn to see a plate glass wall that showcases the glossy tanks of the brewhouse, I know I want to work here.

Now I just have to convince whoever is interviewing me…

I glance around for a human—preferably the one I’ve been emailing—but at the moment, I’d take any human.

“Hello?” I ask, immediately frowning at how weak and apologetic I sound.ThatGus is supposed to be in the past. This is the era of New Gus, of fighting my way back from the dumpster fire of the last three years.

Straightening my spine, I try again. “Is anyone here?”

“We’re closed,” a deep, irritated voice booms from behind a door. “Go away.”

Something about the aggravated tone in his words sends my hands to my hips in a millisecond—an Original Gus-ism I thought I’d lost. “I’m here for an interview. I have an appointment. For which I amon time for.”

I hear a grumble and a shuffle of papers before a bear-sized man pushes through the kitchen door. “No, you don’t. I have an interview with Gus Carper.” His laser-like slate blue eyes burn through my retinas with an intense energy that zips and sparks along my nerve endings like rain sizzling on a hot sidewalk.

I swallow and blink a few times as I adjust to the mountain sized person in front of me. He’s massive, well over six feet, as wide as the doorway, with arms as big as my thighs. His mess of dark hair and full beard is salted with gray and the slight crinkle at his eyes sends a tingle to my lady bits the likes of which I thought were dead, buried, and eulogized. He’d be truly gorgeous if it weren’t for the hard set of his jaw and furious expression.

“I know.I’mGus Carper.”

His eyes narrow. “You?”

I don’t know how he makes one word so accusatory, but I feel he’d throw a book at me if he had one handy. “Gus is short for Augusta,” I clarify with the irritation of having had to explain it at least a dozen times every day for my entire life. When I demanded everyone call me Gus at the age of four, I hadn’t known it would be a lifelong burden.

The space between bear-man’s brows crinkles and I know for a fact that if his eyes were lasers, I’d be in at least a dozen perfectly cut cubes. “Why didn’t you put your full name on the job inquiry?”

“Because it didn’t occur to me that it would matter,” I answer frankly, feeling my hackles rise.Down girl.

“It does matter,” he bites back.

And that’s it, I’ve reached my limit with this angry titan in the space of two minutes and all the fire I’ve been lacking for the last three years comes roaring back. “Is it a problem that I’m a woman? Do you have something against hiring women? Because you’re acting like I burned this place down, stole your car, and kicked your dog. The only crime I see here is that I came in with two X chromosomes.”

Fuck, that felt good. I have a hard time keeping back a smile. “Can I interview or not? I need a job and if you’re not interested, I’ll keep moving. I’m sure there’s some place out there that would be perfectly happy to have me.”

Mountain man’s right eyebrow raises and there is almost an infinitesimal lift to the corner of his mouth which he immediately stifles. “No, I mean yes, you can interview.” He motions toward a table. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” I drop into a chair like a petulant high schooler caught skipping class.

He settles into the chair across from me. His massive frame makes the human-size chair look like he stole it from the nearest kindergarten. I wouldn’t be surprised at all to find out he did.

My mind immediately wanders to what that scene might look like—chairs flying, crayons breaking, every Hunter, Cayden, and Madyson crying…I clear my throat, straighten in my chair, and place my resumé on the highly polished table.

Using one massive finger, the angry and potentially kindergarten-destroying man slides said resumé across the table and peruses it quietly for a moment. “I see you have both restaurant and bartending experience.”

“College,” I answer. “At a college bar. I’m used to big crowds and quick turnarounds. Later, I waitressed at a high-end steak house.”

He eyes me over the edge of my resumé and the intensity in his gaze steals my breath. There’s so much there to unwrap, so many emotions, so much…rage? It definitely feels like rage. I start to wonder if I did steal his car and kick his dog.

Eventually, he forms words. “Are you interested in full or part time?”

“Full,” I answer quickly, happy to move on from the eye contact of doom, “or more. I really just need to work.”Pick a reason, buddy.Because I’ll die if I spend another day in my thoughts, because I am desperate to find myself again. Because I don’t want to have to live with my Great Aunt Sally for the rest of my life if I don’t have to.

His eyes wander back to my resumé with a frown, and he shifts in his seat. “I’m looking for employees who are going to stick around for more than a few months, so if you’re just here for the summer…”

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