Page 49 of Tempting Max

“I will be,” she smiles, straightens out her clothing, and checks her reflection in one of the glass doors. “For daddy.”

Fuck me, why didn’t I just take her right there against that door?

With that, she leaves me in the cooler with a rock-hard cock and an entire day to imagine where and how I’m going to fuck her.

I can’t wait.

29

GUS

“Yeah, I think that’s a great idea, Gus,” Liam tells me after I rattled off my plan for a Paintbrush locals’ event to thank everyone for being so good to us.

I didn’t add that my secondary plot is to get Sally and Hardware Store Bob together because that’s a secret. I’m also not sure Liam would approve. He’d be the one to figure out a reason it wouldn’t work, and I’d have to agree with him, and I don’t want anyone shooting down my idea.

He jots a note down in the small notebook he keeps in his front shirt pocket. “I’ll have Elliot look at the schedule and see what works best timing wise.”

“Awesome, thank you so much, Liam.”

He smiles and gives me the firm nod that usually means the conversation is over and true to form, he wanders off toward the back.

I sigh, smiling to myself as I ready the bar for the coming rush. We’re already open, but it’s the single hour of the day between lunch and evening that gives us a breather and lets us restock without hustling.

Trace is on his break, Elliot is wherever Elliot disappears to, and Max is in the back working on a new recipe he won’t tell me about. But the fact that he promised me he’d make it worth my while to work late tonight has me buzzing with anticipation.

It’s been a few days since Sally announced that I’m in love and though I’d like to think I’m smarter than falling for another man so soon, I can’t deny the truth. And I’ve been thinking about what she said. About taking love when it presents itself and not trying to fight it.

Because maybe, all the bullshit I went through with Ethan, was necessary, to get me to a point where I know what I’m worth. Where I know what I want. And I certainly want Max. It’s funny—even though I chose a dress and planned an entire wedding, I never daydreamed about it with Ethan. I never got those goofy, excited feelings that I saw other women have when they found the dress or booked their locations. It just felt like items to check off a list. Like groceries.

But with Max, I’m smiling all day, humming to myself, daydreaming about wedding dresses and building a home together. And even though I know I’ve done all these things in the past, it feels brand new, and I can’t tell you how much that means.

Even my therapist told me it’s okay to let myself feel things, to take the happiness, that I’ve deserved it. And I cried for the first time on our weekly call.

I’ve also been thinking about what Max asked me. About what I want to do for the rest of my life. And I know it’s not lofty or visionary, but I think I want to stay here and manage Redpoint. I truly love being here, and I know the brothers will have more than enough to handle once they start opening franchise locations.

In all, I just feel right. Like I’m in the right place at the right time, with the right man to help me continue to discover who I’m meant to be.

When the bell above the door announces a customer, I look up at the clean-cut man in a suit with a smile. I suspect he’s in his mid-sixties, handsome, tall, but with small eyes that make me feel slightly off-center.

“Welcome to Redpoint,” I set a coaster in front of him. “What can I get for you?”

“Thank you, beautiful,” he answers, taking a seat on the stool right in front of me.

My skin crawls at the way his eyes sweep my body on the word ‘beautiful’, but I keep a smile—or at least what I think is a smile—pasted on my lips.

“I’ve heard so much about this place.” He looks around at the bar, studying it in a way that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.What is he doing?“Such a big success in such little time.”

“Well, that’s because our product is second to none,” I say easily. “Want to try a flight? We have a couple different options depending on what you like the most.”

His eyes land back on me, and I don’t know why, but they make me feel greasy. Is that a thing? “Why don’t you give me a flight of your favorites, sweetheart?”

What a creep.“You got it,” I tell him, keeping that tight, nearly-scowl of a smile on my face as I busy myself pouring him a flight of my least favorites because there’s no way I’m giving him any info on myself.

When I return to him with the flight of five small glasses, I point to each and tell him what they are. “Hangdog is a caramel stout, Quickdraw is our signature IPA, Screamer is the house favorite lager, Whipper is our porter, and Zipper is our delicious pilsner.”

He grins at me and then studies each glass of beer as if they have secrets to tell. Finally, he decides to taste the Hangdog first. “Oh wow,” he says, his eyebrows slipping up his forehead as he sets the glass down. “That is delicious.” He winks at me, “You’ve got good taste.”

“Easy to have good taste when every drink here is perfect.” My words come out clipped.

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