Page 16 of Tempting Max

My breath vanishes as the space between us grows smaller and smaller, my fist tightens on her waist and just as I’m about press my lips against hers, her phone buzzes loudly in her pocket, scaring us away from each other like we were caught smooching at a middle school dance.

She fishes her phone out of her pocket, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. “Sally,” she says, sliding the button to answer it.

“Hey,” I hear her say into the phone, but that’s all I comprehend as she darts away from me, back toward the table we sat at earlier.

I wipe a hand down my face—frustrated, pent-up,horny—I want to punch a wall. I want to punch a dozen walls, but when the volcano inside me cools down, I remember that I’m lucky. That kissing her would have been a mistake I can’t afford.

It’s a good thing. Even if it doesn’t feel like it.

“That was Sally,” Gus tells me from across the bar. Her voice is breathy, nervous. “I forgot to tell her where I was, scared her to death.”

I don’t answer. I don’t look. I can’t.

“Anyway,” she goes on, “the storm is letting up, I think we could probably head home. My car is just outside.”

I nod. “Okay.”

When I don’t hear her leave, I look up to find her standing by the door, her keys in her hands, waiting for me to say something.

I can’t come up with anything that will make this situation better, so I just say, “Drive safe, please.”

She bites her lip and nods. “You too,” she whispers, before dashing to her car in the pouring rain.

I stand there for an eternity wishing I hadn’t let her go.

11

GUS

“Oh, now this is amazing,” Sally sighs as she dips her feet into the pedicure bath. It took some convincing to get her to come with me, but I needed to be out of the house, out of my brain for a while so I can stop thinking about Max and our almost kiss.

I cringe every time I think of the look on his face after my phone rang, as if the thought of kissing me was the ghastliest thing he could think of, as if he couldn’t quite believe he almost stooped so low.

I haven’t gotten an ounce of sleep since then. I still feel the weight of his hand on my hip, the way his strong fingers stroked my cheek, the way the breath stilled in his chest. And I ache for a different outcome, for a kiss and a smile instead of a look of horror and the vacuous hole in my stomach.

“Would I ever steer you wrong?” I ask, keeping my tone as light as possible as I dip my feet into the water.

“Not my Gus,” Sally answers before oohing and aahing over the stems of champagne our nail techs bring us. “Drinks too? Now this is the life. And in Paintbrush no less.”

“You’ve earned it. I may never be able to pay you back for giving me a place to live, but I can treat you.”

Sally reaches across the space between our massaging chairs and grabs my hand. “You don’t owe me anything, honey. Ever. Having you here has been a joy. I’ve missed you so much these last three years.”

Tears threaten to fall, but I keep them in by sheer force of will. I lost so much more than myself in the last three years. “Thank you, I appreciate that. I missed you too.”

“Though now that you’re settled in, I would like to see you get out more, meet more people.” She goes on, pulling me out of the moment.

I let out a laugh and sip my champagne. It’s golden and bubbly and reminds me of the way I felt when Max was leaning in to kiss me. The perfect moment before everything went sideways. “When? I work all the time and I need to sleep too.”

“I think you worktoomuch,” she tells me, pointing at a bright pink polish that suits her pre-k color palette. “You sleep, eat, work. Nothing else.”

“Well,” I defend myself while choosing a coppery shade for my toes. “I’m trying to rebuild, remember? I have to have money to do that.”

“You also need to have fun to recover up here.” She points to her head. “And here.” She points to her heart. “You should try going on some dates. Nothing serious, just get out there and be you. Dance, eat great food, go on hikes, laugh. If you don’t want to date, at least find a friend that wants to explore. That fearlessness you had is still in there, you’ve just forgotten what it feels like to take a breath and jump.”

I smile and though I think of a thousand reasons not to do all of those things, I know she’s right. Images of dancing, hiking, laughing with Max fill my throat and I push them down with another gulp of champagne. I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of leap. “If I find a friend that wants to do those things, I’ll do them. For now, it’s just me and you, so if you want to go dancing, let’s do it.”

Sally giggles. “Actually, that sounds fun. There’s a dance at the end of the summer for Paintbrush Days. What say we Carper girls get out there and show the world what redheads can do?”

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