Page 18 of Smooth Sailing
“I would’ve let you.” The admission cost him, but she deserved his honesty. “Hell, I nearly did when I thought I was the consolation prize.”
“But I think some risks aren’t worth taking.” She met his gaze. “No matter how tempting they might be.”
Max studied her face, recalling her story about the fiancé, about trust broken and dreams shattered. She was more than a spark or desire to chase.
And there was more to it. He wanted to be someone’s first choice, not their safe option after a string of bad decisions.
“I agree..” He took a step back, giving them both space to breathe. “These projects could transform both our business.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then looked to the wall of fixtures. “Now, about these hybrids for the conservatory . . .”
He let her change the subject, watching her eyes light up when she mentioned another detail about the Sterling project. They’d made the right choice. He’d rather be her partner in building something lasting than another chapter in her book of regrets.
“Max?” She was holding up two different fixtures. “Which one?”
He focused on the lights in her hands, committing to being her business partner and friend. It was the right choice.
So why did doing the right thing feel so wrong?
Chapter Nine
August 19th, 9:45 a.m.
Paloma clutched her leather portfolio and settled into a corner table at the Coffee Bean with her latte. She and Max worked on their Sterling house proposal for nearly two weeks, and the meeting with them had finally arrived. She spread out her work, adjusting the order of her sketches while watching the parking lot through the storefront windows for his truck.
Her phone buzzed. Mom again. Her thumb hovered over the red voicemail button, but needing a distraction, she answered, saying, “Sorry, I didn’t make it to family dinner yesterday. I’m meeting with an important client today and had to finish the proposal.”
A heavy sigh carried over the phone. “Honey, your dad was home this weekend. Emmeline made the drive with my adorable grandson from Ann Arbor. And Felix came all the way from Traverse City. I miss seeing everyone together. ”
Maybe spiraling worry and self-doubt was preferable. “So glad you called to serve up a heaping side of guilt to go with my morning coffee?” Paloma half-joked.
Her mother’s laugh was a mix of amusement and exasperation. “That’s not my intent. Well, okay, maybe a smidge. You’re practically next door, and yet . . .” She sighed again. “Is it really too much to ask for a family dinner once a month?”
“You’re right.” She shifted in her seat, the phone pressed tightly to her ear. Reaching for her coffee, she paused midair, retreating to fidget with a sugar packet. “I’ll be there next time.”
“Thank you, honey.”
Spotting Max exiting his truck, she said, “Mom, I have to go. Max is here.”
“Who’s Max? A new man you’re seeing?” Her voice carried too much hope. She was that mom who wanted twenty grandkids.
“Sorry to disappoint again. He’s a business partner. Love you, and we’ll talk later.”
Max crossed the parking lot in the busy shopping center, his long strides eating up the distance. He paused to help an elderly woman with her bags, his broad shoulders flexing beneath his crisp blue shirt as he unloaded her cart. The genuine warmth in his smile as he chatted with the woman made him irresistible. No. Focus. This meeting was business, not pleasure.
He entered the café, and after getting a coffee, he sat across from Paloma and asked, “Ready to wow our future clients?”
Their gazes met over the papers, and for a moment, the café’s bustle dissolved into a distant hum. She willed herself to stay professional. “Absolutely. My interior designs for the kitchen leading to your conservatory garden will complement each other perfectly.”
“They also want a small living wall,” Max said.
“Like our pineapple couple?” Paloma asked.
He laughed, the sound deep and rich, like a sensual caress. “We should stop calling them that so we don’t slip and say it in front of them. But, yeah, kind of, but different. The Sterlings want wall art, circular pieces in different sizes and mosses. The swingers want shelves mixed of plants, herbs, and fruits.”
She grinned. “I bet one is a pineapple.”
He chuckled. “Funny you should say that. They did request pineapples, but those are shrubs and too big for the wall. Instead, they’ll be in pots throughout the house. I need to give you the measurements so you can pick containers that match your design dimensions.”
