Page 35 of Wrong Idea

“My type?”

“You know what I mean. Too much money, too good-looking, bored with how easy life is. I’ve dealt with them, and I’m gonna deal with you.”

“Okay,” I said. My hands were clasped in front of me, and I waited patiently for him to do whatever he needed to do or say. It was only fair. From everything Max had told me, he was the closest thing she had to family other than a sister who traveled the world.

“That kid was just that, a kid, when she started working here. Just turned sixteen, and shortly after, all alone in the world. Her dad was never in the picture, and her mom worked herself to an early grave,” he rasped. “She was a good woman. The best. Doing everything she could for her girls. Anything to give them a better life.” His jaw clenched tightly, like he was trying to hold back his emotions. Part of me wondered if he had been involved with her, but I figured if there was ever a time to ask, now was not it.

“Max was sleeping on the floor by the lockers because their landlord evicted her from the small apartment she and her mom lived in. He did that shit a week after her mom passed because Max didn’t pay the rent since she had used the money to help lay her mom to rest.” A muscle twitched beneath the old man’s eye. “After I discovered she was sleeping on the floor and sneaking into the kitchen to get food after school, I helped her out as much as I could. Offered her my guest room, but that girl is as stubborn as she is kind. She wouldn’t hear of it, so I helped however I could. The people who work at The Crown, the ones who actually keep it running, no matter whose name is on the deed, care about her. They love her more than she even knows. I know what you’re thinking when you look at those resignation letters. It’s only four of us. We’re easily replaceable, and you’re probably right. We can be. Berta has been here the longest and is only a few months from retirement. I’ve been here a year less than her. Olive and Max will be fine. But we will only be the start.You can expect a lot of the other employees to do what we are the moment they hear about this, kid.”

“Stan—“

“Now, like I said, I’ve dealt with assholes like you. The last two owners were pieces of shit who thought they could get away with anything. By the end of them selling this place, there was a reason they were working from other places instead of at the resort. Life can get uncomfortable in a small town when everyone knows what a fucking douchebag you can be.” Had Stan heard about what creeps they had been and got rid of them? It was clear he was threatening me. I had to bite away a smile.

Not because I got off on being told shit but because I liked the set of balls on him.

He was a good man. Stood up for what was right and called out wrongs. He was exactly who we needed working at The Crown.

“I love her, Stan,” I said calmly and easily. “I have never loved anyone, not even close to the way I love Max.” The man’s expression didn’t change, and I knew that even though I didn’t owe him one, I had to explain.

“It was a misunderstanding that got out of hand. But if I’m honest, you’re right. I did like the fact she didn’t know I was Carver Storm or that she was clueless about how much money I had. She liked me for me. Max told it straight, something that even though she might not be blood related to you, I’m thinking she got from you,” I complimented before I reached for the top left drawer of my desk. I opened it, took what I had hid in the back, and brought it out. Opened the small blue velvet box and set it on the resignation envelopes.

“I wasn’t kidding, Stan. I love her. I ordered this to get this done the day after you had her clean my office.”

“You did?” His gray brows bunched, his focus on the table.

“When you know, you know. And I knew before I saw her face,” I admitted. “I want to marry her. No prenup. No games or charades. I want to build a cabin at the far end of the lake for her and the family I hope we’ll one day have.”

“She’d love to live there.” He sighed under his breath so low I wondered if I had imagined it.

“I might not have done things the right way?—“

“Might?” he called me out, and I nodded.

“I didn’t,” I corrected. “I didn’t do things the right way, but I love her. No one in the world will ever love her the way I do. I want to give her everything and, sure, some of that is buying her nice shit, but most of it is just taking care of her. I want to make sure she… she smiles as much as possible and that she eats right, because when she gets to working here or designing her coloring books, she forgets.”

“She does,” Stan agreed.

“I want Max to be my wife. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to see her smile. To make sure she was safe and sound.” I didn’t share the fact I even had cameras at her place and in the laundry room so I could watch her and be there if she so much as even got a paper cut, or that I tracked her location. I had a feeling he wouldn’t extend any kind of generosity before he called the cops and wouldn’t rest until I was arrested.

But he didn’t say a word.

The old man simply stood there, his old, weathered face unreadable as he stared at me for a long time. So long I could have sworn my heart was about to jump out of my chest.

“Stan, I swear to you, I love her. The way we met…” I winced. “It was all a misunderstanding. Then, when she told me what she had heard about me, the real me, I panicked. I didn’t know how to tell her I was the asshole boss everyone tried to avoid. You included,” I shared and waited.

I had to give it to the old man; he had hell of a poker face.

“She said that to you?” he asked, his tone monotone. My shoulders slumped forward. I felt like I was losing her, like Max was slipping between my fingers.

“Yes. She told me all about what people said about the older Storm brother and what a fucking monster he was to deal with. If you were me, what would you have done? There I am, at my freaking age, meeting the woman of my dreams.”

“She’s a lot younger than you,” he reminded me with clear distaste on his face.

“I know that.” I stood straighter, shoving my hands, along with the ring box, into my front pockets.

“The new uniforms and jackets that came in yesterday,” he brought up, tilting his head to the side. “You do that?” he asked slowly, watching me.

“Yes.”

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