Page 14 of Tempting Max

We toast each other and take a drink and I can’t help but watch every move he makes. The way he wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand, the way his eyes slip to my lips, the way they dart away when he sees me watching.

Does he want to kiss me?

My breath stills in my chest and my body fills with need as the hand not holding his pint lands on his massive leg. I want to know what it would feel like to have his hands on me, discovering me,owningme.

I want to be able to walk over to him, take his beer out of his hand and settle into his lap, to see if I can’t make that frown go away.

Instead, I take a gulp of my beer and force my eyes to the falling rain outside.Easy, Gus, I warn myself. Just a minute ago I felt sure he was a bad idea and now all I can think about is burying my hands in his beard and tugging him down for a kiss.

We’re both silent for a few minutes, just the rain and thunder and the hum of the beer coolers to underscore us.

I want to look at him, I want to memorize the slope of his nose, the laugh lines at the corner of his eyes, the fullness of his lips. But I stare at the floor and memorize the tips of my shoes instead.

Just when I think I’m in the clear, just when I think I’m going to survive the night without doing anything I might regret, the power goes out with a flash of lightning.

“Fuck,” Max grumbles.

I turn to look at him. All I can see is his strained expression in the intermittent flashes of lightning. When his eyes meet mine, they take my breath away. “The back-up generators should have come on by now. Can you grab the flashlight by the register?”

“Of course.” My heart thunders as I gingerly make my way to the register. I don’t know why—I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m not even really afraid of thunderstorms.

I grab the heavy flashlight, my pulse zinging through my veins and I’m not even sure it’s fear. It might be excitement, the feeling that something lifechanging is about to happen. Good or bad.

And that? Yeah, that’s terrifying.

10

MAX

I’m acutely aware of everything as Gus follows me to the back room. I’m aware that it’s imperative to get the brewery back online, to keep the coolers going, and I’m aware of every tiny little thing that Gus does.

Every breath, every footstep, every word she says reverberates in my body as if I’ve become a violin and she’s the bow. Her body rubbing alongside me makes me unusually aware of her. It’s awful and wonderful all at the same time and all I can do is keep my mind on the power.

If I focus on the immediate problem, I can keep my head in line and my hands to myself.

I hope.

“Hold the light here,” I tell her once we reach the closet that houses the generators. “I think it might just be a matter of a GFCI button that didn’t get pressed.”

“One of those little test buttons?” She asks.

I nod and fish around for the outlet. “There it is.” But when I push the button, still nothing. “Shit.”

“What do we do?” Gus asks.

What I’d like to do is throw a bunch of stuff and get angry at the generator, but I don’t want her to see me that way. I don’t want tobethat way. It never makes me feel better and then I have a mess to clean up.

I inhale deeply to calm my anger and turn to look at her. Her wide eyes are the only thing I can see in the light of the flashlight. “There are a few things I can check. This generator is similar to the ones I grew up with. If you don’t mind holding the light a little longer.”

“I don’t mind,” she answers quickly, because she’s always ready to jump in and help, “just tell me what you need.”

I bite my lip, so I don’t say something I’ll regret like ‘I need you on my lap, very very naked’. “I’ll check the fuel first.” I indicate where she should shine the light and she obliges.

When I find the tank full, just like it should be, I go through the motions my father taught me to make sure everything is working.‘A quick fix is a quick path to disaster,’he’d always say. I remember getting ruthlessly impatient waiting for him to finish his equipment checks, but I’ve learned that he’s right. He was right about almost everything. God, I miss him.

“It’s the choke,” I tell her when I find the culprit, feeling proud and relieved. “Can you get the light a little closer?”

“Mm-hm,” she answers, and I nearly lose my shit when her hip brushes against my leg. My brain short circuits for a moment as her nearness washes over me, her light cinnamon scent, the warmth of her curvy, delectable body. It’s all I can do to keep my grip and remember what I was going to do.

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