Page 24 of Tempting Max

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“You okay, Gus?”Trace asks me mid-shift the next evening. “You look a little tired.”

I paste on a smile. Tired isn’t enough of a word to explain the deep exhaustion in my bones. I’m so tired my ancestors can feel it. Not only did I not sleep last night, I spent the entire time mooning over Max like I’m caught in a Jane Austen novel and my dowry isn’t enough for the man I love.

To say I’m a little over my brain, would be an understatement of the millennium. “Didn’t sleep well.”

“Ah, well, hopefully tonight goes fast and you can crash afterwards.”

I nod and smile and pretend that nothing’s wrong because there is no one in this world that I can talk to about it. Sally would understand but she’d let world secrets out of the bag with the offer of a free scone at the Heartleaf. I love her, but she’s a megaphone.

“I’ll restock the cooler before the rush,” Trace offers, knowing it’s the most energy-draining of the tasks we need to get through before the evening rush.

“Thank you, I’ll cut the fruit.”

He makes a face, “Good, every time I do, they end up looking like someone chewed them up and spit them out.”

My face crumples with disgust. “Yeah, better let me do it then.”

“Deal,” he laughs and then trots off with the energy of a golden retriever puppy.

Once he’s gone, I scan the restaurant for the grumpy shadow I’ve been failing to find all day and sigh when Max is, again, nowhere in sight.

After running the lemons and limes under the water, I set them out on the cutting board and begin slicing them. Focusing on making them perfect helps keep me sane at first, but then my mind wanders back to last night. The way Max held my face as he kissed me, the growl that vibrated his chest when our lips finally touched…

“Son of a bitch!” I yell when I feel a pinch. Horrified, I look down at my left middle finger to find I cut the tip nearly down to the bone. Blood oozes from the slice, making a horrifying contrast to the bright yellow and green fruit.

Trace comes running out from the back along with Liam and Max, who I’m surprised to find does in fact, exist.

Max rushes forward first, his face creased with concern. “What happened?”

“I was just slicing fruit,” I say stupidly. Anyone with eyes could see that. “It’s not that bad, I’m sure we could bandage it up with no trouble.”

Max lunges forward and takes my hand to inspect the cut.Lord, how can he make me feel like I want to climb his bones even when I’m literally bleeding out?

“This is all the way down to the bone,” he announces, looking me straight in the eye with an intensity that almost knocks me over. “You need stitches.”

“It’s Saturday,” Trace adds helpfully, “We still don’t have a doctor here and the nurse is off on the weekends. You’ll have to get to Denver.”

“No,” I argue, “I’m fine, seriously, we’ll wrap it up tight. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Infection, loss of feeling, amputation,” Liam adds helpfully, and I wish I could slap his perfectly symmetrical face without hurting my hand more.

“Fine, then I’ll drive myself.”

“No, I’ll drive you.”

My mouth falls open as I look at Max and even though I want to wring his tree trunk of a neck for ditching me last night, I’m also touched that he wants to drive me two hours away just because I cut my finger. My God, I think my brain is going to mush. “No, really—”

I don’t have a chance to answer because Max picks me up. All the way up like I’m a bag of groceries and walks me toward the door. I should kick and fight and argue, but being held against his massive, hard, warm body has put my brain on pause. “I’ll drive her,” he tells Trace and Liam who just nod and go about their business as if it’s normal to watch Max abduct an unsuspecting fruit slicing victim.

“You can put me down,” I tell him when we get close to an SUV that I assume belongs to him when he unlocks it with a fob.

He just grunts, opens the door, and puts me in the seat. “I don’t want you to run away.” He finishes his sentence with a click of my seatbelt and the close of my door. I watch him walk around the front of it with my mouth hanging open wondering how it’s possible to be so turned on and annoyed all at the same time.

He climbs into the vehicle with all the subtlety and grace of a yeti, hands me a wad of bandages, and starts the car without saying a word.

I stare at him as we move into traffic and towards the interstate that will take us to Denver. I take in the lines of his face, the hard set of his jaw, the way he’s squeezing the steering wheel as if it personally offended him.

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