The Cocker Spaniel puppy had been an impulse buy, but even though he’d kept her up half the night and had her outside three times to teach him all about the joys of doggie toilet training, she already loved him. He’d melted her heart in ways she hadn’t expected, and she couldn’t imagine a day without the dog.
"You got…a dog?" Max said. He bent down and rubbed the puppy’s head. The dog returned the favor with a furious tongue licking of his hand.
"Yup. And I named him Chewie."
Max lifted his gaze to hers. Recognition dawned in his deep blue eyes. "You did?"
Angie lowered herself to the space between Max and the dog, and gave Max a smile. "We agreed a long time ago that there was no better name for a dog."
Emotions washed over Max’s face. Surprise, joy, then a tenderness she rarely saw in strong, Type-A Max. His blue eyes became as soft as clouds, and a smile wavered on his face. The gesture, so vulnerable, so open, warmed her. "Angie, you’re amazing. I can’t believe you remember that I said that."
"It was fifth grade. We were sitting on the swings and talking about what we wanted to be when we grew up. You said you were going to be a firefighter—"
He laughed. "Yeah, I’m pretty far from that."
"—and you were going to have a dog and name him Chewie. I said I wanted a dog too and that Chewie was a cool name."
Max gave the puppy a tender pat and his gaze went somewhere far away, somewhere he rarely went, rarely talked about. "My dad never wanted us to have a dog. Said they were too much work, too much of a mess. I vowed when I grew up, the first thing I’d buy is a dog. But I never did. Why?"
"I don’t know, Max." She truly didn’t. They’d been friends forever, but the subject of his childhood was one they left in the past. She knew it hurt him, but tough guy Max allowed few peeks behind that strong façade. And she never pushed because she, of all the people in his life, understood about childhood disappointments and empty spaces in your heart.
"Because I got too busy with my job. My life became…" he let out a long breath, "my father’s, except without the vodka punctuation mark. And when I’d think about getting a dog every once in a while, I’d think about the mess and the work involved, and tell myself later. There’d be time later."
Oh how she could relate to that. How many things had she put off, because she convinced herself there’d be time, when really, it wasn’t about procrastination, it was about fear. She and Max were such similar creatures, deep down inside.
"Later is now, Max. Stop waiting for what you really want." She covered his hand with hers, a hand she knew as well as her own, the hand she had held when his father kicked him out for the tenth time, the hand she’d held when her mother announced yet another move, the hand she’d clasped when she got nervous before her first job interview. It was strong and warm and dependable.
Whether or not her plan worked out, she knew she could never walk away from Max. He was more than her best friend—he was the rock she stood on. And she hoped she did the same for him.
"Chewie here’s for rent," Angie said, holding tight, just as he had done for her a thousand times. "Anytime you need a dog fix, you can have him. I figure we can share him. The best of both worlds for everyone."
"Share him?"
"Yup. It’s a baby step into commitment. For both of us."
"That sounds like the best way we could do this," Max said. "Thank you, Angie. For…everything. I’ll be taking you up on that," he said. The puppy scampered away, tugging a chew toy out from under the sofa. Max grinned, then turned to Angie. "You know me so well. And yet, you still manage to surprise me and push me out of my stodgy old comfort zone from time to time."
"Gotta keep you on your toes," Angie said, her voice light and flirty, covering for the lump in her throat and the racing beat of her heart. If she could have, she would have bought a hundred dogs, if only to see Max smile like this. To know she’d brought him joy.
Oh, hell. This being in love thing was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. Sometimes she wanted to run and other times she wanted to stay right where she was.
"Keeping you on your toes is one thing a puppy will definitely do," he said, laughing as Chewie tried to wrestle Max’s shoe off his foot. Max gave the dog an ear rub, then turned to Angie. "What made you get a dog now?"
She shrugged. "I guess I was just feeling lonely." She dropped her gaze to the golden fur before her, and avoided Max’s eyes. Yeah, look who could give advice about going after what you wanted—and not take it herself.
"Lonely? We’ve been spending almost every day together."
"Yeah, but soon we won’t. When you marry Becky, you’ll be with her all the time and we won’t see each other very often."
"That’s not true, Angie. I—"
"She’ll be your wife," Angie said, even though the word scraped her throat raw, "and because of that, she’ll be entitled to, and expect, your attention whenever you aren’t working. Friends take a backseat to that."
"The same thing will happen when you fall in love, you know. Maybe with that Michael guy."
"That was…a short-term thing." She wanted to say she’d already fallen in love, but then the dog climbed onto her lap and licked at her cheek, her ear and she defaulted to her safety zone. "Besides, I already have a lifetime companion right here."
"Letting a dog into your heart isn’t the same as letting a man into your heart," Max said, his voice quiet.
"I know."
"Do you?" Max waited until her gaze met his. "When was the last time you fell in love?"
Here was her moment, her chance to tell him. No more waiting, putting it off. She took a deep breath and this time, didn’t look away. "Right now."
He chuckled. "I meant with a man, not a dog."
Damn. Max had totally misread her. That’s what she got for letting Chewie be a part of the conversation.
"Let me guess," Max said before she could correct him. He thought a second, then held up a finger. "I got it. Sixth grade. Eric Kennedy. Your first and only love."
"I can’t believe you remember that." She shook her head. "That kid was always lugging a camera around everywhere he went."
"Didn’t he grow up to work for The Globe?"
"Yup. I fell for him because he made me feel pretty. He always wanted to take my picture. Of course, I found out later that’s because he thought I was ‘quirky looking,’ but at least back then it made me feel good." Angie shrugged.
"That’s what makes you unique," Max said.
"Yeah, and that’s a trait that men are always looking for in women. Oh, she’s unique and quirky." Angie laughed. "Those are code for the opposite of pretty."
Max reached up, and cupped her jaw. Her heart stopped, her breath caught, and her gaze held his. Hot, strong, tight. "You are beautiful, you know. Absolutely beautiful. Stunning. Unforgettable. And any man who doesn’t see that is a fool."
"The kind of beautiful that men fall in love with?" she asked, the words almost a whisper. Men like you?
"Any man could fall in love with you," Max said, his thumb running along her cheek for a moment before he lowered his hand and disappointment flooded her. "If you would stop being so afraid of being in love."
"I’m not afraid of that."
Max arched a brow. "Then take a risk and do what I’m doing. Get married, settle down."
Anger and frustration bubbled up inside of her. How could he not see that she’d been trying her damndest to take a risk this entire week? And he was doing the opposite, not to mention, missing every clue she tried to give him. "Don’t talk to me about taking risks, Max, when you’re proposing to a woman just because she fits your checklist of the perfect wife."
Max got to his feet. Chewie propped his paws on Max’s pant leg, but he only gave the dog an absentminded pat. "At least I’m taking that risk, Angie. You’re…" he looked down at the dog, then at her, "you’re just pretending to."
"You don’t know that." She shook her head. "You don’t know anyth
ing about me."
"I know everything about you."
"No," she said softly, "you don’t."
"I know the first time you got kissed." His thumb traced over her lips. "I remember that day very well."
She opened her mouth, took a breath. "It was a terrible kiss."
A smile curved up one side of his face. "I was inexperienced. I’m better now."
"Are you?" She grinned.
"Much."
"Oh really? I wouldn’t know." She gave him a teasing smile. She felt comfortable on this ground, joking with Max, treating him like a friend and date at the same time.
He reflected her grin with one of his own, a smile that made her heart flip. "Maybe we should try again."
"Ooh, I don’t know. That could be risky."
"You think us kissing is risky?"
She affected a nonchalant pose, as if his words a moment ago hadn’t struck a nerve. As if she didn’t care what he said or did. As if she hadn’t thought about kissing him a million times, and didn’t feel this growing wave of desire blooming inside her. "If you kiss me, really kiss me, you might throw that checklist out the window."
"Maybe. Maybe not." He watched her face for a long second, then the smile curved deeper into his cheeks, and he cupped her jaw, closing the distance between them. She caught the dark notes of his cologne, felt the warm pulse in his touch. "Only one way to know."
The puppy, maybe sensing the tension between Max and Angie, had gone off to the corner to chew on a toy. The air stilled, Angie’s breath held, and then, Max’s lips met hers and the world disappeared.
He took his time kissing her, a long, sweet, tender kiss, the kind she had dreamed of all her life. His hands cradled her face, so gentle, she almost cried. The kiss touched her, deep, deep inside, and if there was any doubt about how she felt, those hesitations evaporated in that moment.
Too soon, Max drew back, then pressed his forehead to hers. "Oh, Angie, what are we doing?"
"Taking a risk. Something we should have done a long time ago." She grinned at him. "Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one..." she sighed, "was even better than all of them."
He returned her smile. "The Princess Bride. With your own twist."
"How many times have we seen that movie? A dozen? It’s still my favorite."
"Inconceivable, Buttercup."
She chuckled. "Nothing’s inconceivable if you believe hard enough, Miracle Max." She’d dubbed him that years ago, after the sarcastic medicine man played by Billy Crystal. It had become their code, for holding on against impossible odds, whether they be chemistry tests or business launches.
Or falling for your best friend.
He met her gaze, and for a second, she was sure he was going to agree. Then he shook his head and got to his feet. "What we already have means too much to me to let this," he waved between them, "ruin it with sex. We’re friends, Ang. Anything more would be a mistake."
Then Max was gone, leaving her sitting on the floor, broken hearted. Chewie scrambled to his feet, pounced on Angie’s legs and tried his best to make his new mistress smile again. The trouble was, everything that embodied the happy ending she wanted—
Had just walked out the door.
1/3 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons water
2 egg whites
3 tablespoons rum
6 ounces cream cheese, softened
8 ounces strong coffee, cooled
9 lady fingers, split in halves
2 ounces semisweet chocolate chips, chopped
After the last few days, you need something that starts with alcohol and ends with chocolate. For sure. Make this one before you get too deep into the Bacardi’s bottle. In a saucepan, bring the sugar and water to a boil, stirring often. Boil one minute, then remove from heat. Beat the egg whites to soft peaks with an electric mixer. Pour in the sugar syrup and beat until the whites are stiff and glossy, kind of like the tears brimming in your eyes.
Beat for another two minutes, until the mixture cools and your thoughts are clearer. Add the cream cheese and beat until smooth. Now comes the fun part. In a separate bowl, combine the coffee and rum. Feel free to add more rum, as misery dictates. Dip the lady fingers in the coffee mixture, then arrange on the bottom of a serving bowl. Spread half the cream cheese mixture on top of the lady fingers, sprinkle on half the chocolate chips, then repeat layers. Drizzle with any remaining coffee mixture. If you need that chocolate and alcohol relief, go ahead and eat it now. Or refrigerate for 12 hours and serve. In the meantime, try not to think about the man who breaks your heart at every turn.
And whatever you do, don’t sleep with him. Bad decisions are made over too many rum and cokes.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Angie spent the entire next day wallowing in regret. Well, Chewie didn’t let her do much wallowing. The puppy’s energy went from sleep to run in less time than a Ferrari could hit 100mph. So she walked the dog, ran with the dog, played with the dog, and in general, avoided thinking about kissing Max and what Max had said.
Was he right? Was she ruining the friendship she valued above all others? Was she making a huge mistake, trying to combine love with their relationship? Or was she looking for something that just wasn’t there?
Either way, she didn’t want to see Max. It hurt too much. The way he’d run out of there after they’d kissed—
God, what a fool she had been.
She texted Max a little after ten to say she wasn’t feeling well and was canceling their regular Friday night takeout and movies plan. When he texted back with a question mark, she ignored it. And ignored the next text after that, and the one after that.
Stop being so afraid of being in love.
His words kept coming back to her. He was right—she was afraid. She felt the emotion, but then didn’t say a word. Because she was afraid of exactly what had happened—
Rejection.
All this time she’d thought Max had been the one living his life by a set of stringent rules, a checklist of do’s and don’ts. When it turned out, she was the one keeping up walls. Walls kept her heart safe, kept her from being hurt. And kept her from the truth.
That despite everything she had done, she was still too afraid to come out and say the words to Max.
Chewie climbed onto Angie’s lap, slobbering all over her face and planting his paws on her thighs, her shoulders. "Silly puppy," she said, laughing and cradling the dog tight to her chest. "You have no boundaries, do you?"
In answer, he started eating her ponytail. That lasted about five seconds, then the dog apparently reached his play limit, headed off for his doggie bed and fell asleep.
As Friday afternoon edged into evening, Angie’s phone buzzed with invitations from her other friends to go to movies, to go out for a few drinks. She thought about all the effort of getting dressed, and then putting on a happy face, and decided she’d spend some quality time with Netflix and that bottle of Bacardi’s that Max had given her at Christmas.
Two romantic comedies and half a bottle of rum later, Angie was right back to wallowing. Valentine’s Day was only a couple days away, which meant Becky was going to come back, Max was going to propose, and the two of them would go off into the sunset, together. Forever.
"Maybe Max and me aren’t meant to be," she said to the dog. "Even with a bad rhyme like that."
Chewie was busy with a rawhide bone and thumped the floor with his tail in response.
"Maybe I should just go over there," she said, and for a second, couldn’t remember where there would be—Max’s apartment? Becky’s pretty little studio off of Mass Ave?—and decided it didn’t matter because she wasn’t going to do it anyway, "and tell him how I feel. Just flat out say, I love you, Max, and see what happens."
The dog wagged his tail some more. Across from Angie, Meg Ryan was declaring her love for Tom Hanks, and happy music was playing, as the credits began to roll.
*~*~*
After he left the office on Friday, Max logged eight hard miles, running from his apartment and through the city, ignoring the winter blast that had kept most sensible runners inside. By the time he got home, he was cold, he was hungry, he was sore, but he hadn’t come any closer to figuring out why he had kissed his best friend—
And why he had wanted to do so much more.
It wasn’t that Angie wasn’t a desirable woman. With that long dark hair and her sleek runner’s body, she was—and always had been—a knockout. A woman who stopped men’s conversations when she walked into a room, a woman who turned heads wherever she went. She had a natural, easy sexuality about her, something he didn’t even think she knew. Except for that awkward kiss in middle school and single high school date, he’d never acted on those feelings, keeping their friendship up as a wall.
Then he went and tore down a little of that wall when he’d kissed her. In the hours since, he hadn’t thought of Becky at all. He’d thought of Angie, of the one woman in the world he had vowed he would never sleep with, because in Max’s experience, sex messed up everything.
After his run, he spent a half hour wandering around his apartment, aimless, before he realized he had no idea what to do with his Friday nights when he wasn’t with Angie. Usually, he’d be grabbing some takeout and a few movies to watch with her. Becky had reserved Friday nights for girls’ night, which left that one night as Max and Angie night, a tradition that he’d held for so long, Max stood at a loss with the empty hours ahead of him.
The Millionaire Tempted Fate (A Novella) (Sweet and Savory Romances) Page 5