Page 13 of Tempting Max

There are a thousand reasons we would be a bad idea, probably more—our age difference, the fact that he’s my boss, the fact that I swore off men, the fact that I am very much not ready to throw myself into a relationship. It all adds up to a shitstorm of unimaginable proportions.

But still, I want to feel his hands on my body, hear the vibrations in his chest when I wrap my fingers around his…

Fuck, Gus, you are a maniac.

I clear my throat, tear my eyes away from him, and blame it on the time, the storm, and the three sips of beer I’ve had. Seems logical.

Max doesn’t come back to the table. He fiddles with a few things as if he’s actively trying to stay away from me and though it doesn’t make sense, it makes me want to tempt him more.Who am I?

In the process of trying to reconcile Old Gus with New Gus, I’m finding out I may not have known myself as much as I thought I did. I don’t remember being so turned on by a single man. Interested, yes. Attracted to, yes. But this wanton desire that seems to build with every thunder boom makes me feel like a woman I’ve not met yet.

And I kind-of like her. She’s fun. She’s unapologetic. She knows what she wants.

Even more so than the spicy pre-Ethan version of myself did.

The question is, can I survive the fallout from those desires? Sure, New Gus can take what she wants from Max before she’s healed from Ethan and have a great time in the process. But at what cost?

I could lose the first job I’ve had in years—a job I love, with people I adore—and I could lose myself again. No man, no matter how hot, or mysterious, is worth that. Even if he has the thickest thighs I’ve ever seen through jeans.

Feeling as if I’ve convinced myself not to make a big mistake, I settle into my chair and watch the rain falling outside. It’s calming, therapeutic and just when I think I’ve reached a moment of calm, Max slides another Kolsch across the table at me and sits down again.

“Thought you might like another,” he grunts, lifting his phone screen for me to see the radar image has gotten worse. “The storm seems to have taken a liking to Paintbrush.”

I smile at him and take the new glass. “Can’t blame it. I adore this place. I only visited once or twice when I was very young and I remember loving it, but now,” I let out a sigh. “It’s perfection.”

Max eyes me and takes a drink of his beer. “How long have you lived here?”

“Just over a month,” I tell him, the memories of Ethan’s announcement and the mad dash to move out of the apartment in Chicago we’d lived in for three years wash through me. “My great aunt lives here, Sally Carper. You might’ve seen her around. Red hair like me, one of the older ladies that keep the Paintbrush Rumor Mill working.”

He nods. “I think I would recognize her.”

I spin my beer around on the tabletop.

“From Chicago, right?”

I grin because he remembers that tidbit from my resumé, “Yep, born and raised.”

“So why Paintbrush so suddenly?”

I crinkle my nose. “Remember that sad story I mentioned?”

He nods.

“Yeah, that. Sally was nice enough to offer me a place to stay when things went South in Chicago. Paintbrush couldn’t be any more different than where I spent my entire life, but it’s everything that I needed. Time to think, space to breathe, beauty everywhere. I mean you can’t go three feet without seeing majestic views.”

His jaw twitches and his lips purse into an almost-smile. “Do you plan to stay?”

I let out a breath. This is a harder question to answer. My gut reaction is yes, I want to make my life here, but my parents, my whole existence is back in the Windy City. Can I really heal if I just run away from everything? “For now,” is the best answer I can give.

His eyes slide from my face to his beer, but he doesn’t answer.

“What about you? My aunt, the rumor queen, tells me that you and your brothers blew into town a few months ago. What’s the story there?”

A thousand expressions flicker across his face, most of them bad. He settles on a pained look. “We had a family business in Golden that—” he waves his hand through the air. “That part doesn’t matter. We were looking for a fresh start for a new microbrewery. Liam did months of research and Paintbrush was always at the top of the list for best opportunities. So now we’re here, thanks to analytics and social media.”

I raise my beer to him, “I guess that’s as good a reason as any.”

He grimaces but lifts his beer in response. “Guess so.”

---