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Max craned his neck to watch Carmela sashay over to another table. “Red over there isn’t Ms. Vanilla, I take it?”
“Oh hell no,” Brody blurted. “Ain’t nothin’ vanilla about Carm.”
“So why are you with one girl when you want to be with another?” Benji questioned from the seat next to Brody.
“It’s not right,” Foster piped up.
“I gotta agree.” Tank crossed his arms over his barrel chest, leaning back in his chair. He was clearly thinking of his own relationship, which had crashed and burned recently. She’d left him after admitting to a six-month affair just a few weeks ago. Around the table, most of the guys had stopped their conversations. Now they turned their attention to Brody.
“Sloane is gorgeous,” Brody said. “Seriously hot. She’s got her head on straight and she’s the most responsible woman I know. I’m almost thirty-six; I need someone stable. Everything about her is amazing.”
“I hear a ‘but,’” Max said.
“But…She’s cold. I have to initiate everything. Sex is mechanical. No matter how much I beg, I still can’t get her to go down on me!”
All the guys started whooping and laughing then. Brody glared at all of them, but after a few minutes he just shook his head in defeat. Max never understood men like Brody. No relationship was perfect—that’s why Max avoided them—but if you weren’t getting what you needed, what was the point? Move on.
Foster frowned and folded his arms. “I can’t lie to her again, Brody. I told you last time.”
“Look, Foster, I know I’ve put you in a bad place with you marrying her cousin. Just tell her you didn’t actually see me with anyone. Unless you’re peepin’ through windows, that’s the truth anyway.”
The cocky grin on Brody’s face turned Max’s stomach. Judging by Foster’s expression, he felt the same disgust.
The crowd continued to cheer for the current topless dancer on stage, her slim body hanging upside down from one of the poles. Brody threw back another shot of amber liquid, never taking his eyes off the stage. He added his own catcalls to the mix. As much as Max loved his guys that were here, he couldn’t stand looking at Brody for another minute. It was guys like him that made the rest of them look bad.
“I’m gonna bail, guys.”
Foster threw his hands up. “Aww, Max, don’t go yet.”
“I gotta get some rest. I have a job in the morning.”
“How about dinner? Mirabella’s been asking when you’re gonna come by again.”
“Is she gonna make her famous beef stew?” Max raised an eyebrow in question, a big smile on his face.
Foster laughed. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”
“Count me in. Call me tomorrow with a time and I’ll be there.”
Max said his goodbyes and then made his way to the door. The fresh air slapped him in the face once he was out of the building, but it was refreshing after being inside. He headed for his truck on the other side of the parking lot, and once inside, clicked on the radio, turned on the headlights, and steered his truck toward his home on the outskirts of town. His nearest neighbor was a quarter mile away and he liked it like that.
Max pulled into the long driveway, coming to a stop behind the large farm-style house where the gravel path ended. The house had once belonged to his grandparents; when they’d gotten too old to care for it—and themselves—any longer, they’d sold it to Max for the bargain basement price of one dollar. He’d tried to pay them what it was worth, but his Granny smacked him good right in the back of the head and told him one day it would’ve gone to him anyway.
He was grateful for it every day. It gave him the means to quit the force when it no longer fit his ideals. For now, he worked for Winston Peters doing security and protection details. Funnily enough, his new job paid almost double, and without a house payment, Max was able to put a lot into his savings for the startup costs of his own business. His spare time, what little he had, was spent fixing up the old house. The front porch was beginning to show signs of rot, the kitchen needed an update, and the hardwood floors needed to be stripped and refurbished. Max walked in through the back door as always, toeing off his steel-toe boots in the laundry room before continuing into the kitchen for another beer.
He swallowed a third of the ice-cold brew in one sip while he moved through the house. By the time Max found himself in his bedroom, his beer was gone. Tossing the bottle in the trash can, he quickly brushed his teeth and washed his face. After stripping himself naked, Max crawled under the covers and stretched his arms up and behind his head. He needed to get some rest. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
Chapter Two
Sloane
Sloane walked up the steps to her cousin Mirabella’s house. Once again, she was attending their monthly Saturday night dinner alone. She understood Brody’s job was important, but she had a hard time understanding how he could never get away when Foster, Mirabella’s fiancé, almost always made it on time. Sadly, she was beginning to get used to being the third wheel.
She should’ve just cancelled, but the idea of sitting home alone—again—was more depressing than attending dinner by herself. She knocked loudly, and without waiting for a reply, she walked inside.
“Bella?”
“Kitchen,” Mirabella called out.
