by Alexa Martin
“You do know you didn’t pay for a date, right?” Vonnie asks. “It was charity, not prostitution.”
“Of course, silly.” Eloise pokes Vonnie’s shoulder, gambling her life. “The auction wasn’t for me personally, I was just the mouthpiece for PWT.”
“I’m sure you’re great at that,” Charli says without looking at her.
“Anyways.” Eloise’s smile grows scary and she turns her attention back to me. “We got to talking at the event and just really hit it off, so here I am.”
So here she is. Looking every bit the part of the athlete’s girlfriend. A role, I remind myself, I never wanted. Anybody’s girlfriend, actually, but definitely not an athlete’s. Vonnie gave up being a lawyer. Marlee moved to another state. Charli had to switch schools to follow Shawn. And I’m not willing to give up anything for a man, no matter how rich or hot he is.
“I’m so happy for you guys,” I say so earnestly that all three women in front of me stare at me like I might be on drugs. “You two make a really hot couple.”
“Um, thanks,” Eloise stutters. It’s hard to keep your composure when you’re ready for a fight that isn’t going to happen.
And with the comical timing that is my life, the door to HERS opens again and Maxwell steps inside, making me question my dedication to staying single.
“Hey, Max!” Tanya raises up a fist and does the fist bump that’s become the customary greeting between them both.
“Tan-tan.” He says her nickname, and it’s so sweet I almost forget he’s here to take another woman on a date.
Damn.
The man is a fucking charmer.
“Ladies.” He smiles when he reaches the bar, not even a little fazed by the glare Vonnie is aiming at him.
“Nope,” Vonnie says. “I’m going to have words with you, but not here.” She aims a pointed stare at Eloise. “Not in mixed company.”
His eyebrows knit in confusion and he looks to me like I can help him out. I wasn’t going to explain, but even if I was, I wouldn’t have had enough time.
“Hey! Great game today.” Eloise jumps up and wraps her arms around Maxwell. “You ready to go? I’m starving.” She grabs her jacket from the back of the barstool and puts it on.
“Yeah, sure,” Maxwell says, still looking confused.
“Great.” Eloise wraps her hand around his and waves with her free one. “Bye, girls!”
“Bye.” I try my hardest not to stare at the way Eloise loops her arm around his and force a smile that I’m afraid might pop some blood vessels in my face.
Max opens his mouth like he might say something else, but at the last minute decides against it and offers a lame wave instead.
I don’t watch them leave. I turn to the back of the bar, rearranging the bottles that I just fixed last night.
I know it’s what I need. To have this temptation ripped away from me. But I still don’t want to see it happening.
I feel the blast of cold air from the door opening just as Charli says, “What in the entire fuck just happened?”
“Justin might have to hold me back again,” Vonnie says. “I never thought Max would be on my shit list.”
I turn and look at her with wide eyes. “He destroyed my bar!” I shout.
She rolls her eyes. “He threw a glass and broke some shelves. And he felt so bad about it that he gave you double what you needed to fix it before you could even think to ask.”
“Still.” I look at my new containers I was able to buy with the leftover money he gave me. “I think that was a little worse than going on a date.”
“It just doesn’t make sense.” Charli ignores me completely. “They don’t even work together. Max is so nice and laid back. I barely even know Eloise, and I’m positive she’s the polar opposite.”
“I agree. Max is too thoughtful to meet a date right in front of Brynn,” Vonnie says like I’m not standing here.
“Yeah, he would never.” Charli takes a sip of her beer. “Something isn’t adding up here.”
“Okay,” I interject. “I’m going to my office to catch up on paperwork since you guys don’t seem to need me anymore.”
“Bye,” they say in unison before diving back into conspiracy theories as I leave.
* * *
—
“I’LL SEE YOU tomorrow, Tanya.”
“Later, Brynn!” she calls out before the door shuts behind her.
HERS is empty.
Charli and Vonnie left a few hours ago. Sundays stay busy during the day, but the evenings clear out faster than most nights. I guess some people are responsible when addressing the upcoming workweek. Just another reason why owning a bar was what I was destined for.
I glance at my watch. We stay open until midnight, but it’s already quarter to twelve, so I make the executive decision to lock up early.
I trudge across the floors, the voices of the Real Housewives of Atlanta yelling at one another and my sneakers squeaking against the tile creating my favorite HERS soundtrack.
Just as I’m about to reach the door, a large figure appears, pushing the heavy glass door open as if it’s a feather.
I jump back, his unexpected presence shaking my nerves a bit.
“Hi,” I say on a squeal. “I was just about to lock up.”
“Sorry.” The man holds his hands out. Now that some of my surprise has ebbed, I note that he’s very attractive. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No.” I wave off his apology. “You’re fine.”
And he is. He’s tall, well over six feet tall, and muscular. His mocha completion is highlighted beneath his white T-shirt, though he’s not wearing a jacket, which makes me question his sanity. And there’s something so familiar about him, I just can’t seem to put my finger on it.
“I was just seeing if someone was here, but I see that you’re empty.”
“Oh, yeah. Sundays get quiet quickly here.” I look behind me at the empty tables and scattered chairs. “Who were you looking for? Lots of women come in and out of here.”
I don’t know why I asked that.
Sure, he’s good looking, but he could still be crazy, and I’d never give information on one of my customers to a stranger.
“I’m not actually looking for a woman.” The corners of his mouth quirk. “I heard about the event here the other day, so I thought I’d see if Maxwell Lewis was here.”
Oh. A fan. Which might make this even creepier.
“Oh yeah, that event was a onetime thing, he doesn’t come in here usually,” I lie.
“Really? That’s not what I heard.” His tipped lips now grow into a full-blown smile.
“Who’d you hear that from?” I ask, the beginnings of unease starting to race through my system.
“My dad.” He cringes a bit. “I forgot to introduce myself.” He extends his hand to shake mine. “I’m Theo Lewis, Maxwell’s brother.”
Twenty
“Maxwell has a brother?” Poppy attempts—and fails—to whisper. “How has he never mentioned him before?”
“Who knows?” Considering I didn’t know either, I am clearly not the authority on all things Maxwell Lewis. “Theo said they are half brothers, same dad, but Theo mainly lived with his mom growing up.”
“Who cares about that?” Charli leans in, succeeding where Poppy failed and keeping her voice down. “Is he hot? I mean, have we been out here living our lives not knowing there is Maxwell hotness multiplied?”
Three sets of eyes focus in, waiting for my answer like I’m about to give them the key to world peace and climate change. “I mean, he’s attractive, and once he told me he was his brother, I was able to see some of Maxwell in him.” I think Maxwell is better looking, but no way am I putting that out there. “Theo is bigger—taller. He’s a police officer, so he keeps in shape, just not professional athlete shap
e.”
“Oh lawd.” Vonnie falls back into her seat, fanning herself. Not that she’s dramatic or anything. “The other Lewis brother also wears a uniform and carries handcuffs? Somebody needs to write that book.”
“Nope.” I pull their drinks away from them—well, not Poppy’s. She’s been craving Shirley Temples, and I’m afraid I’d lose my arm if I touched hers. “I am not dealing with you today.”
“Paisley,” Vonnie calls across the room. “Come get your girl.”
“I’ll be right there!” Paisley yells back as she leads two women to their table.
“I’m the boss!”
Ugh. Why do I even bother?
“Anyways . . .” Charli reaches for her drink, also not fazed by my threats. “The guys are going to be here soon. We demanded a date night since tomorrow they have to spend the day with whoever won the auction. We’re gonna go next door to play Ping-Pong, if you wanna come.”
I look around HERS, and the crowd is decent, but not overwhelming. “I should be able to sneak out for a bit.”
“Good.” Poppy pops a cherry in her mouth. “Because we told Max you were coming and I’m pretty sure it’s the only reason he agreed.”
“He’s seeing Eloise.” Her name tastes bitter in my mouth. “I don’t think he’s worried about me.”
I wonder if, when they were together, he dedicated all of his attention to her or if he was checking his phone like he does with me? Is she the one he’s willing to give that all up for? I mean, I wouldn’t blame him if she was. She’s a lawyer who probably doesn’t make up words and definitely dresses like an adult woman. I’m kind of—FINE! Totally—a disaster. Yes, HERS is thriving, but every other aspect of my life is like a reality show gone wrong.
“He is not seeing her.” Vonnie drains the remainder of her martini. “Justin asked him and Max said they just talked about the details for tomorrow.”
“Oh yeah, I’m so sure that’s why he took her to dinner and gave her football tickets.” I narrow my eyes and purse my lips. These girls are more worried about our relationship than I am.
Charli opens her mouth to say something, but—luckily for me—her phone lights up in front of her. “Wrap it up, ladies.” She shoves her phone into her Louis bag. “The guys are next door.”
I wave them away. “I’m gonna take care of a few things and then I’ll meet you over there.”
“If you try and bail, we’ll come over and drag you next door,” Poppy threatens. “So save yourself the embarrassment.”
Geez. I thought pregnancy was supposed to make you all loving and one with the earth. I’m beginning to think she’s carrying the spawn of Satan or something.
“Okay.” I lift my hands up in surrender. “But only because you scare me.”
She stands, tossing her purse over her shoulder and pulling her long curls from beneath the strap. “As long as you come, I’m okay with that.”
They snake their way through the tables, Vonnie stopping to talk to a couple of customers who recognize her from the interviews she did leading up to the auction, and then they’re gone and the volume at HERS seems as if it has decreased by about ten decibels.
“You good back here? I’m going to head to my office,” I ask Abby, the other bartender working tonight.
“Yup,” she says as she pours beer out of the tap. “I’ll holler if I need you.”
I push into my office and take a deep breath. I know most people get stressed when they walk into a cluttered office with a desk covered in loose papers that are trying to escape to the floor, but not me. Because I remember when I opened HERS and didn’t know if I would last a year and was praying for the kind of chaos swirling around my life now.
I do probably need to do some filing though.
I spin my desk chair with the flourish of a six-year-old and throw my body onto it, squeezing my eyes shut and hoping that I don’t land on the floor.
“Eeee!” I throw my hands in the air and bring my knees to my chest, riding out my victory.
“What are you doing?” a deep voice says.
I immediately slam my feet to the floor and my hands to my desk like that somehow saves face.
“Gotta make work interesting, am I right?” All the blood from my body has relocated to my face, whether from spinning or the mortification of Maxwell Lewis catching me acting like a toddler, we will never know.
“You’re a nut.” He shakes his head, his smile unwavering as he moves farther into my office.
“This is not a new development.” I watch as he lowers his black-denim-clad legs into my Barbie-sized, armless acrylic chair. His body is much too big for it, but it doesn’t seem to bother him as he leans back, shoulders relaxed, his long legs sprawled out. “Would you like to know what is a new development?”
“That you’re better at Ping-Pong than you are at dominoes?”
“Hey!” I push out of my chair, pointing an unpolished nail at him. “That’s not fair. I’d never played before, and I’m pretty sure that TK was sabotaging me!”
Last summer, TK had a barbecue, and some might say I was a bit of a sore loser when he tried to teach me to play dominoes. I’m not proud of it, but it happened.
“Whoa there, killer.” He raises his hands in surrender.
“Sorry.” I sit back down. “I’m a little competitive.”
“You don’t say.” His voice—and body—shakes with laughter.
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes and look to the computer that I still haven’t turned on. I click my mouse and type “Aceisthegreatest” into the password field. Ace obviously was here the day my new computer was delivered, and I couldn’t say no to him. I did however draw the line at “#Wheresthelie.” It was just too long, and who uses hashtags anymore? “What I was going to say”—I glance at him as the files open on my screen—“was that you have a brother you never told me about!” There’s a little too much pep in my voice and my smile feels too large.
In fact, I’m working so hard at looking unbothered that I nearly miss the instant change in Maxwell. His back shoots straight up and his hands ball into fists on his thighs.
“Did you google me?” he asks, trying—and failing—to joke.
“Um, no.” I choose my words carefully. “He came in last night right before I closed.”
“You’re talking about Theo, right?” he asks.
“Yeah, tall, matching eyes, police officer?” I tick off, leaving out that he’s not quite as good looking as the Lewis brother who’s in front of me, practically vibrating with something I’m not sure I understand.
“Did he say where he’s staying?”
I shake my head. “No, he just said he’d come back soon if he didn’t hear from you.”
“Fuck.” Maxwell scrubs his hand over his face. “Listen, if he comes back, call me.”
“Okay . . .” I drag out the word.
“No, Brynn.” He stands and walks around the desk until he’s standing over me. “I mean it. Do not talk to him. Do not engage. If you see him, call me and get away from him.”
My eyebrows furrow, and fear snakes down my spine. “You’re freaking me out.”
He places his hands on my armrests. “I don’t trust my brother, so being freaked isn’t a bad thing.”
“I mean, he’s a cop though,” I say, mainly trying to make myself feel better. “He can’t be that bad, Max.”
“That little bit of power makes it easier for him to be the worst kind of person. And, Brynn.” He’s so close that I see his jaw twitch and every emotion fighting for dominance across his flawless face. “You call me Maxwell.”
And then I don’t see what emotion wins because his lips are on mine and my eyes close as the world around me explodes.
I have kissed a lot of guys—and I mean a lot of guys—but I have never, not ever, had a kiss like this.
Admitte
dly, most of the kissing I have done in my life was me rushing them to get to the meat of the event or sloppy and in a bar as I bid farewell to my acquaintance of the night.
So I’m not one hundred percent sure whether my mind is being blown to smithereens because I’m kissing a man whom I actually care about—I have heard that actually liking the person you’re kissing can make a difference—or because of his skillful, full, soft lips.
Maybe both.
Because holy shit. His mouth is perfection. The way he gradually increases pressure, not trying to thrust his tongue into my mouth. How he tugs my bottom lip with his teeth, then lets go and closes his mouth over mine again. I’m not in charge of my body anymore. My hands move to the back of his head of their own accord, pulling him closer to me, wanting everything he’s willing to give me. His hands trace the outline of my body, gliding over the small curve of my waist, one hand slipping beneath my T-shirt, his rough, calloused hands a stark contrast to the silky pillows that are his lips.
I open my mouth, sliding my tongue into his mouth, but that’s as far as I get before he takes over, setting the tempo, the rhythm of this sensual dance.
My skin is supercharged, sensitive enough that even the slight breeze from the heater sets my skin on fire, the loose strands of hair against my neck cause shivers to race down my spine, and the feel of Maxwell’s hands against my back makes me wonder if it’s physically possible to orgasm from kissing and gentle caressing alone.
The way my stomach tightens and my thighs clench together leads me to believe that not only is it possible, it’s probable.
“Poppy texted me to come take over and—oh! Sorry!” My dad bursts into my office, effectively extinguishing any and all embers of lust floating around the room. “I . . . um . . . hey, Max.” He nods to Maxwell, not leaving like I assume most normal people would do in this situation.
“Mr. Sterling.” Maxwell straightens, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Um, sorry about that.”
Sorry!
“Don’t be sorry.” My dad waves him off. “You two are adults, don’t mind me.”