Page 37 of Smooth Sailing
He parked and dismounted his bike and took a deep, centering breath. The crisp autumn air filled his nose, carrying the aroma of grilled burgers and fresh apple pie. His stomach growled in anticipation as the scents mingled withthe earthy smell of fallen leaves and the faint tang of gasoline from the surrounding vehicles. He focused on the mouthwatering fragrances rather than the knot of anticipation that had taken up permanent residence in his stomach lately.
Gravel crunched under tires as Jackson and Asher pulled in next to him. A minute later, the rumble of Tate’s Triumph approached, its deep purr cutting through the quiet country air. He executed an impressive tight U-turn, the bike’s chrome gleaming in the late afternoon sunlight.
Max removed his helmet and asked no one in particular, “Why is Tate selling his bike? He’s a great rider and seems to love it.”
“He says he doesn’t have time to ride and doesn’t want to pay for the extra parking spot at his condo,” Asher said.
Jackson tucked his helmet under his arm, lowering his voice. “You know, I met Tate’s new girl last week. Katrina. I think she might be the reason.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “Why?”
Jackson’s mouth tightened into a grimace. “I got the feeling she wants him to be his only hobby.”
“She’s intense,” Asher agreed.
Tate killed the engine, then removed his helmet. “The backroads out here were fucking fantastic. I swear, every time I come here, I want to quit my job and leave the city.”
Jackson and Max exchanged a look but said nothing. Tate was Lilith’s brother and the newest to their circle, so none of them knew him well, but Max hoped everything was okay.
“You could,” Asher told Tate, nodding toward The Hill. “I heard the owners are retiring and selling the restaurant.”
Tate laughed. “Funds manager turned entrepreneur, that’d be a change. Instead of managing other people’s millions, I’ll do it for myself. Come on, let’s grab a table at my future restaurant,” he joked.
“Go ahead, I’ll meet you there,” Max said. “I need to store my shit.”
“Same,” Jackson added. Asher and Tate nodded, heading toward The Hill.
Max closed and locked his saddle bag, asking Jackson, “How’s it going with your newest hardware store in Grand Rapids? It’s your third, right?”
“Yeah, my third. The distance makes it challenging, But once I get a good, solid manager who’s local, I’ll be less stressed.” Jackson locked the forks on his motorcycle, then asked, “How’s the new projects with Paloma going?”
“Interesting.”
“I bet. What’s it like working with her? She seems . . . intense.” Jackson grinned. “And hot.”
Max’s mind flashed to that moment in the Thompsons’ house—Paloma’s lips on his, her skin under his fingertips, smooth as silk, warm and inviting. Her addictive taste. He shook off the memory, his chest tightening at the crushing weight of her words afterward: “I want you, but I want my career more.”
“It’s complicated,” Max replied, aiming for nonchalance but missing by a mile.
Jackson paused to lock the steering and said, “Complicated, huh? Spill it, London.”
They started toward the diner, their boots kicking up gravel. “She’s brilliant,” he said. “She has an amazing eye, and her business sense is waaay better than mine. And yeah, she’s gorgeous, but it’s more than that. She has this . . . presence.”
“My friend, you sound like you’re whipped.”
“Shut the hell up.” Max chuckled. “And okay, fine, I’m attracted to her. And it’s messing with my head. We work well together, but there’s this . . . tension. It makes it hard to focus sometimes,” he admitted, leaving out the part about how they’d nearly been caught messing around by a client. Jackson would tease him mercilessly until they were old and gray.
His friend let out a low whistle. “Well, well, well . . . looks like our boy Max is feeling the heat! But, come on, man, you’re overthinking this; mixing business with pleasure is a fucking fantastic combination.”
“I disagree,” he lied. “We’ve got two high-profile projects on the line and clients counting on us. If we mess this up, it’s not just our feelings at stake—it’s our reputations and our careers. I’d feel like a dick if emotions screwed things up.”
“Then don’t let emotions factor in. Have some fun. Release that tension. You’re both adults.”
Max shoved his hands in his back pockets. “I’m not sure we’re on the same page. About everything.”
“Oh, damn.” Jackson shook his head, running a palm up his face to his short locs. “The attraction is one-sided. That sucks.”
“No, it’s not that. More like she’s afraid it’ll affect our work.”
