Page 69 of Smooth Sailing
He held his breath, torn. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he lied.
Her eyes snapped to his, a flash of something—concern or frustration—crossing her face. “Don’t.” She shook her head. “Don’t pretend with me.”
The air was heavy with unspoken words and restrained impulses. He loosened his grip on her hand, allowing her to pull away. She didn’t.
She let out a slow breath and let her fingers ghost over the edge of the bruise. He couldn’t hold back a sharp inhale at the contact. She immediately withdrew.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you,” she said.
“No, it’s okay,” He replied, missing her warmth. “It’s just . . . sore.”
“Let me get your pain meds.”
“No,” he said firmly. Medicine would fog up his thinking. “We need to talk about what happened with the Thompsons. I’m so sorry you had to deal with that situation.”
She stood and took a sip of her coffee. He couldn’t help but notice the way her t-shirt clung to her curves as she moved. He shouldn’t notice at a time like this, but she was so beautiful.
Her back was ramrod straight, but a little humor danced in her eyes. “It was so awkward, but I think we’re okay. Maybe. Plus, there’s nothing we can do.”
“First, tell me everything they said. Then we can decide if there’s anything we can do.”
Pacing, she told him the whole story. It had him drowning in guilt. That one fucking night with his ex was following him like a damn curse. And he shouldn’t have let his dick rule him that incredible afternoon.
“I agree,” he said. “Let’s wait and see. Them having a recording of us gives me an ulcer, but it seems like they want to keep their lifestyle quiet and won’t risk talking or upsetting us so that we talk. If they call you, let it go to voicemail. I’ll deal with them.”
“I don’t need to hide behind a man,” she snapped.
He made to stand to stop her pacing, but a wave of dizziness hit him. He stumbled, and Paloma reached to steady him. Her hands gripped his bare arms, and they were face to face, barely inches apart.
Her gaze dropped to his lips, then quickly back to his eyes. She swallowed and stepped away, her hands falling to her sides. “Careful,” she murmured.
He was tempted to pull her close, but something told him that’d be a mistake. So, he focused on the conversation. “I know you can take care of yourself, but you had to handle them in person, where they blindsided you. It’s my turn to deal with any more awkwardness.”
“Fine,” she conceded.
“I say, we shelve them for now and put all our focus on wowing the Sterlings. They’re bigger fish anyway.”
She nodded. “I agree.”
He saw a flicker of something in her eyes—a spark of the usual light returning. It kindled a small flame of hope in his chest. Maybe he could still salvage this situation.
Yes, he’d messed up, but he wouldn’t let that define him or their partnership. One step at a time, he’d make things right. And maybe, just maybe, he could prove to Paloma—to everyone—that he wasn’t the perpetual screw-up.
“Rest. I’m going to take a shower. Then we can go to your house to pack. Are you sure you don’t want some pain meds?”
He nodded, and she turned to leave. He caught her hand. “Wait,” he said, his pulse picking up. “I know I’ve complicated things between us. But I want you to know . . . you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”
Her breath caught. She squeezed his hand, her eyes shimmering. “Max, I—I can’t do this right now. We can’t.”
She pulled away, leaving him with the ghost of her touch and a heart full of unspoken words. The door closed behind her. “I’m falling in love with you, and I don’t know how to stop,” he told the empty room.
Chapter Thirty-One
November 24th, 8:30 p.m.
Paloma raised her glass of riesling, the local wine cool against her palm. Around her, the restaurant buzzed with Friday night energy, but her focus remained on the small circle at their table.
“To the Sterling house,” she said, her voice carrying over the ambient chatter. She raised her wine, the golden liquid catching the light. Her gaze locked with Max’s, and she loved the way his eyes sparkled with their shared triumph.
