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“Watch your language,” he growled.
She gave him an exaggerated frown, her remorse approximately as legitimate as a three-dollar bill. “I’m sorry, Uncle Max.”
He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. “You can tell them whatever you want, Kels—other than what we actually did. The point is: go home. Forget about this, and we’ll just go back to normal. Like it’s always been.”
“Do you really want me to go?” She straightened her shoulders subtly, exaggerating the swell of her tits even further, the buttons straining at the front of her blouse.
“Yes, I do.”
She strolled toward him, a smile creasing her lips once again. She trailed her fingers along his chest as she slipped by him in the foyer. She stopped within the threshold of the open door, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “Are you sure this is what you want? Because I’m not that easy to get rid of, Uncle Max. I know what we have, I know what we could be—and I’m not giving up. “
“Stubborn girl.”
She giggled. “Cute stubborn girl, thank you very much.”
He shook his head, willing himself not to smile despite himself. “Look, you need to understand something here. There is no us, Kelsey. There isn’t.” For some reason he didn’t like saying those words, but it wasn’t that they were untrue. It was because he hated seeing the slight flinch in her expression, as he said them. Of course they were true, but that fact didn’t change what he felt, didn’t make this any easier, and it sure as hell didn’t make it something he wanted to do.
But wanting something, and having it be the right thing… were too often not the same in life. He was old enough to know that. He’d had life smack him down enough times to understand that truth in a way Kelsey couldn’t possibly understand.
But she would, with time.
“Look, we’ll talk tomorrow. You’ll see after a good night’s sleep that this is something that we need to forget about. It was a silly mistake, and it doesn’t have to be a big deal in the grand scheme of things. But we need to be smart and not do something we shouldn’t. Okay?”
She shrugged, stepping down off the porch, glancing back at him one last time. A new uncertainty had slipped into her gaze, though it could have just been the low night illumination playing tricks on his eyes. “Tomorrow then?”
He nodded. “Yep, tomorrow. We’ll talk things over, and you’ll see. This is just… better left in the past.”
“That’s easier said than done, Uncle Max.”
But he said nothing in reply, watching her go, waiting until she got in her truck, the rumble of the engine firing to life. As the taillights faded down the street flaring bright once before she turned and disappeared, he thought about her parting words.
She definitely was a young woman, but her words were wise beyond her years, too.
He just wished it wasn’t so very hard to listen to that wisdom.
Chapter 11
“Yeah, George, I think it’s going to take me another week or so before I can get the final plans to you. From what I can tell thus far, the budget should pencil out—as long as the revenue projections verify. That’s a big piece of the puzzle, if this plan is gonna fly, financially.”
George Wickham was a good friend—and neighbor—just mile or two down the road from his cabin in Washington State. A village manager for what was really an unincorporated area called Foster Canyon Ranches, in the north-central part of the state, George had hired Max to draw up a new budget, complete with an improvement plan for the several projects the community needed done over the next five years. It was a much more involved project than Max had anticipated, but he was glad to do it—and at a ridiculously reduced fee—because he loved the special place so much.
Foster Canyon was his refuge, his little slice of solitude and sparse, stirring beauty when his normal life began to grate upon him. He’d bought the cabin there years ago, not long after he and Marie had split, and to this day it was still the best decision he’d ever made. In the fallout of the bitter divorce, the property had represented a refuge, a fresh start. Whatever it was, if nothing else, it didn’t remind him of the life, the marriage that had gone up in the flames of mistrust, regret, and the realization that no matter how hard he worked, no matter what he gave her, Max was never—ever—going to be good enough for his ex-wife. Marie had been a woman far more consumed with matters of the pocketbook than she was with matters of the heart.
It was the afternoon, and he was already starting to feel tired, but working hard at his downtown office all day long had helped him not think about what had happened the night before. It wasn’t so much that what happened was wrong, it was that he couldn’t stop thinking about it. How the hell was he going to get anything done, if all he could think about were Kelsey’s tits, her incredible lips, and how devotedly she’d sucked his cock?
The alarm buzzer for the downstairs door went off, and he cursed under his breath. “Hey, George, hang on. Got somebody here. Can I give you a call right back?”
He clicked over to the security camera feed for the front door, not sure what to expect—but he sure wasn’t expecting Kelsey. She was wearing dark sunglasses, her long hair pulled back in a ponytail. She had on black slacks, and a matching, snug, short-sleeve T shirt with some sort of writing across the breast that he couldn’t make out in the grainy security camera resolution.
What the fuck is she doing here?
He clicked Unlock Door on the screen, and she wasted no time swinging it wide as she strode inside his building and out of view of the camera lens. Her shoes tromped along the hallway downstairs, growing louder. Whatever her reason for being there, she seemed to be on a mission.
He said goodbye to George and hung up the phone just as the door to his office opened. She marched straight in, closing it behind her, slightly harder than she should have.
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Now, I could ask you what the hell you’re doing in my office. I suppose my first question should actually be—what makes you think it’s appropriate to slam the door to my office?”
That seemed to take her aback a little bit, her lashes fluttering slightly. But she crossed her arms under her breasts. The writing across her chest, in a white cursive font, read:
