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He rolled his eyes. “Well, I see the lesson lasted approximately as long as it took her to get some sleep. Smartass Kelsey’s back in full effect.”
She giggled, sticking her tongue out at him playfully. “You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I didn’t give you shit.”
The coffeemaker dinged then, and he held up a finger. “Hold that thought. Time for coffee.”
For the next few minutes, they drank in companionable silence, the morning sunlight brilliant now. She set her mug down, gazing up at him where he leaned against the island, the pose showing off the strong sinews of his shoulders. She had a momentary urge to lick every inch of those muscles. “There’s no way I can leave this with just one night. You know that, right?”
“You don’t really have a choice,” he murmured, sipping from his mug. “A deal’s a deal.”
“I mean, you’re really serious? What happened last night didn’t mean anything to you?”
He sighed. “I didn’t say that, Kelsey. But what I did say was one night only—and I meant it.”
“I think you’re holding yourself back. I think you definitely want more than just last night. I don’t know how I know that, but I’m sure of it.” And she was sure, though she had no way of really knowing why. Sometimes intuition was a thing.
“What happened last night, what we did? You and I need to take that to the grave. You get my drift?”
“I don’t think that I do, Max,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him. She crossed her arms under her breasts, knowing that even in the oversize shirt, her boobs would draw his attention. She wasn’t disappointed, his gaze dropping to her chest for just a moment before locking with hers once more.
“Now that you’ve finally gotten this out of your system, I think it’s time for you to go home.”
She stood up then, trying to look nonchalant, unaffected by what he’d just said. But inside she was frustrated, and a little angry. He was right though—a deal was, in fact, a deal. She just thought maybe after last night he might be… rethinking things.
Apparently not.
That wasn’t going to stop her from trying though. “I don’t wanna go home yet.”
“Tough,” he growled, taking another sip. “Get your happy ass back to the sorority. They’re probably missing you.”
She sidled up next to him, pressing the swell of her breasts against his side. “Wanna give me a bath?” She stroked the flat plane of his belly, trying to ease her fingertips beneath his waistband. His crotch was already bulging, a sight that filled her with both hope and a little bit of vindication. He was still affected by her, attracted to her, even if he seemed intent on kicking her ass out the door.
Stubborn man.
Surprising her, he snatched her hand away, pressing it to the countertop pointedly. “Stop that. It’s not time for that anymore. You need to go home. As in, right now.”
She blew out an exasperated breath. “I can’t believe you’re doing this, Max.”
“Believe it,” he muttered, dropping his mug into the sink. “It’s happening.” He spun around, arms crossed over his chest, leaning his hip against the counter’s edge. “You need to stay away from me for a while. Go be a college girl. Have fun. Fuck drunk college boys. Or girls, I don’t care. Live your life.”
She groaned, and it was her turn to roll her eyes. But she knew he was serious. When Max dug his heels in like this, there was no talking him out of it. “Fine, fine. I just… I thought you wouldn’t be like this. Thought maybe we could talk.” She spotted her clothing folded neatly, sitting atop one of the arms of the couch. “I’ll honor your wishes, of course,” she said, headed toward the living room. “I’m not a bitch.” She pulled his T-shirt off, making sure the movement made her naked breasts bounce more than usual.
There was no harm in torturing him just a little bit more, while she still could.
Then she put her black tee from Stanton’s back on, the fabric smelling stale, with a hint of sourness from food residue. “But just so you know, this isn’t over, as far as I’m concerned. I know you’ll be back for my magic pussy. Its powers are irresistible.”
Already heading for the hallway, Max pointed toward the front door, shaking his head as he went. “Drive safe, smartass.”
Chapter 15
He put the last of the STA-BIL into the gas tank of his boat, stowed the can, then locked up the garage. The day was already blazing hot, the cicadas a maddening buzz in the air, so loud he could barely think. In truth, not thinking might actually be an improvement. He walked the perimeter of his backyard making sure there were no other items he needed to take care of before leaving.
The tickets were already bought, Nashville to SeaTac then a puddle jumper—probably a Dash-8—over to Pangborn in Wenatchee. George Wickham would bring him back to the Ranches. It was a time of the year he’d come to look forward to greatly, a retreat every summer to a very special place in north central Washington State. Little more than a tiny valley cut into the rock by a creek eons old, the creek dumping out into a broad, escarpment surrounded flatland—they were sometimes referred to as ‘coulees’—it was in many respects a paradise for him, and men who enjoyed the type of life that that community afforded.
Though it wasn’t incorporated, the collection of homesteads, a store or two—and one single intersection—still constituted a community. A community called Foster Canyon Ranches.
Getting his Tennessee place already for his summer sojourn was always something that he looked forward to. But after what had happened three weeks ago, he couldn’t help but wonder if what he was doing this time was more akin to running away than getting away.
He stepped up onto his porch, stretching, finally satisfied that he had his property buttoned up sufficiently. He walked inside the house, the place cool and shadowed, the air conditioner pleasantly cranking. He opened the fridge, found himself a bottle—Michelob Ultra was what he usually drank—and cracked the top. It was cold, effervescent, and so satisfying. There was little better than a cold beer on a hot day.
