The Millionaire Tempted Fate (A Novella) (Sweet and Savory Romances)
Page 7
"God, when did you turn into such a jerk?" Hurt echoed in her voice, like a knife to Max’s heart.
Better for her to think he was a jerk than for him to tell her how much he wanted to stay, how hard it was for him to grab his coat, how impossible it was to look in her eyes and say what he needed to say. "I’m marrying Becky, Angie. We can still be friends but—"
"You are such a coward." She advanced on him, her hands on her hips, her green eyes flaring. "You and I both know that something fundamental changed here last night, and instead of dealing with it, you’re running away."
"I’m saving you from heartbreak."
"Bullshit."
He pivoted back to her, the fire of want roaring in his gut—coupled with frustration that Angie just didn’t get what he was trying to say—rushed to the surface, colored his words. "You think I don’t want you? You think I don’t want to go back to that bedroom right now, with you, and stay there for a week? Hell, a month? I want you, Angie, I want you in ways I’ve never wanted anyone or anything."
The truth poured out of him, an unstoppable river that he’d held back for too long. He’d denied it, pretended he wasn’t attracted to her, that he didn’t think about her in anything other than friend terms, but he’d been lying to her and himself.
"Then why are you marrying Becky?" Angie asked.
He sighed and lowered himself onto the arm of the loveseat. "Because you mean too much to me."
She snorted. "That’s rich. I mean too much to you so you’re going to walk out of here and marry someone else?"
"Your friendship is the most important thing in my life, Angie. It always has been, and it always will be. You don’t understand. I—" He cut off the sentence.
She closed the distance between them and put a hand on his arm. "What, Max? Tell me. That’s what I’m here for, to listen."
It was the tenderness, the care in her voice that hit him the hardest. Here he was, breaking Angie’s heart and her first concern was him. He let out a curse and shook his head. Angie’s apartment was small, and with the two of them and the dog, there was no room to leave, to gain space, to avoid the subject. "We’re two similar creatures, Angie, aren’t we? Both of us so afraid of repeating what we grew up with, that we run in the opposite direction. Me with my lists and logic, and you by avoiding commitment."
"I’m trying to change, Max, I really am. I don’t want to be afraid anymore and maybe lose the best thing that ever happened to me."
He reached up and brushed a strand of hair off her forehead. "I feel exactly the same way. I don’t want to lose you."
"Max—"
"And if keeping us as just friends is the only way I can do that, then I will." He sighed. "I’m sorry."
Her face fell, and the light dimmed in her eyes. "Me too. Because I think you’re making a big mistake."
"I probably am." He ran a hand through his hair and looked at the dog she had bought them, sitting on the braided rug, watching the conversation with wide brown eyes. "Do you remember that day I came to your house, after my father kicked me out the first time?"
She nodded. "My mom let you sleep on the sofa."
"That night, I made a vow that no matter what, I would never let you down. Never hurt you. You were there for me when I needed you most, and all I ever wanted to do from that day forward was to do the same for you."
"Max, you haven’t—"
"I have. Last night. Today. I made love to you and I broke your heart, and if we did this again, if we took this to the next level, I would let you down. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but down the road, we would become my parents. And in the process, we’d lose our friendship and everything that makes us special." He cupped her jaw, and realized he was breaking two hearts today. Was he making a mistake? Or would he look back on this moment and be glad he had saved them both a lot of heartache? "You deserve so much more, Angie."
"How can you say that? You’re marrying Becky—"
"And maybe I shouldn’t even be doing that either." He let out a breath. "I thought by making a list, I’d avoid all this…" he waved a hand.
"Emotion? Complications?"
He chuckled. "Yeah. Exactly. Picking a wife by a checklist takes the emotion out of it, and makes it a sensible choice."
"No, Max. It makes it a losing choice. For you and for her. And I can’t understand why you, a man who has made a career out of taking risks, can’t see that." She raised on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. There was no passion in the kiss. Instead, it felt a lot like a goodbye kiss. "You’re the bravest man I know, Max Blackwell, and also the dumbest."
1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
Kosher salt
3 sticks butter (3/4 pound), unsalted, room temperature
1 cup sugar, plus extra
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 1/2 cups flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
Sugar, sugar, sugar. That’s the key to forgetting the man who broke your heart, and to admitting your plan went horribly awry.
First, make the caramel. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Pour the milk into a pie plate, stir in 1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, and cover it tightly with foil. Put the pie plate in a big roasting pan, and fill the pan with hot water, until it reaches halfway up the sides of the pie plate. Bake for 1 to 1 1/4 hours, adding more water if necessary. Let cool, then whisk until smooth. The caramel is AMAZING, no lie, so eat some quick, and save the rest for the shortbread.
Meanwhile, make the cookies. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Cream the butter and sugar in a mixer. Add the vanilla. Mix the salt with the flour, then add the dry ingredients a little at a time and mix until the dough comes together. Form into square logs, wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate 30 minutes.
Slice or cut the dough into 1/4 to 1/2 inch thick cookies. Sprinkle with reserved sugar. Bake for 20-24 minutes, switching the cookie sheets halfway through to get even cooking. Keep an eye on them because they go from perfect to burned fast, just like your heart this past week.
Put wax paper under your cooling rack. Remove cookies from the oven, place on the cooling racks. Heat the caramel for 30 seconds in the microwave, then put it in a Ziploc bag and snip one end (to make a homemade pastry bag). Drizzle cookies with caramel, then sprinkle with kosher salt. Eat until you forget. Maybe even make another batch, and vow to never, ever let your heart get broken again.
CHAPTER TEN
Becky was all brightness and sunshine on Sunday morning, beaming from ear to ear when Max picked her up at the airport. She flung her arms around his neck, called him honey bear, and covered him with kisses. Almost two weeks ago, he’d dropped her off at the airport, secure in the knowledge that when she returned, he’d propose to her and take the next step on his life plan.
The ring box burned a hole in his coat pocket. The velvet container was light, but it felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, and every move he made brought a tiny tap from the box’s edge. A reminder of what he intended to do tonight.
"Oh, I’m so glad we’re together for Valentine’s Day," Becky said, sighing and pressing her head against his chest. They were standing outside her building, while people hurried past on the sidewalk, enjoying the mild high thirties temperatures. "I’ve missed you so much, honey bear."
"Same here, Becky."
"We’re going to have the most romantic night ever. I think we should take a carriage ride, then hit the Top of the Hub for drinks and dinner…"
Becky kept on talking, and though Max tried to listen, he had tuned her out already. His hand went to his coat pocket, fingering the box first, then he felt a piece of paper. He tugged it out.
A ticket stub.
"What’s that?" Becky asked.
"It’s from The Princess Bride." God, how many years had it been since they’d seen that movie? He hadn’t put the stub in here, so how had it ended up in his pocket? Then he thought of Angie saying goodbye, of her hand on his waist, and realized she’d been trying to send him one last message be
fore he left. Ah, Angie. Who knew him better than anyone in the world. "I saw the movie at one of those tiny little theaters in Cambridge that show old and classic films."
"How quaint." Becky laid a hand on his arm. "Now, Maximillian, where do you want to go first? I thought we should start with the carriage ride, then—"
He turned to her. "Why do you love me?"
Becky let out a little laugh that was almost a cough. "Why do I…love you?"
The hesitation gave him his answer, before she said anything more, but still he pressed forward. "You don’t, do you?"
"Oh, Max, I care about you a lot, and you are my honey bear," she smiled and patted his arm, "but love? Goodness, that’s such a big word."
"One we’ve said to each other before." Becky had been saying she loved him almost from the first date. She’d signed her emails with love, never hung up the phone without saying it.
"Well, yes, but I meant it, well, not like love-love." She let out a little laugh. "You silly man. We’ve hardly known each other, and well, you know, being in love is a pretty big thing."
"And you’re not in love." It wasn’t even a question, it was a realization. Two weeks ago, he’d told himself he would be perfectly happy with that. Removing the emotions made it less complicated, he thought.
Maybe it did. But it also made a relationship less fiery, less memorable. He thought of how fast he’d run to Angie’s apartment, and realized that a part of him liked that complicated, scary, heady rush.
"No, Max, I’m not in love with you," Becky said, her normally chipper face taking on a serious cast for the first time since he’d met her. "I mean, I care about you a lot, and maybe someday down the road…"
He glanced at the ticket stub in his hand again. "Inconceivable," he whispered under his breath.
"What’d you say?" Becky asked.
"Not the words I needed to say," he said. He took Becky’s hand in his. "Becky, I’m sorry, but I just don’t think we’re right for each other. You’re a wonderful woman, and someday you’re going to make some man very, very happy."
"But that man isn’t you?"
He shook his head. "No, it’s not. I’m sorry."
She considered that for a moment, her gaze going past him, to the busy street behind him. "There’s someone else, isn’t there?"
"Not really."
A bittersweet smile crossed Becky’s face. "Oh, silly, yes there is, and maybe you just don’t know it. You’re in love with Angie. Maybe you don’t want to admit, but I always suspected. It’s in the way you talk about her. Even when you’re just talking about seeing a movie ten years ago. You couldn’t give your heart to me, Max, because you already gave it away a long time ago." Then she placed a soft kiss on his cheek, and headed up the stairs and into her building.
*~*~*
Angie and Chewie made three laps around the park near her house, half walking, half running. The puppy had no problem keeping up, but Angie didn’t want to push him too hard on his first run. She could already tell that he was going to love running, which meant she’d have a new running partner soon.
Just in time. Because her regular running partner was getting engaged today.
Tears burned the back of her eyes. She cursed them. Angie Wilson never cried. Never got emotional. Except, it seemed, when she was losing her best friend and the man she loved all at the same time. The tears rose to the surface, and slid down her cheeks, slow, sad.
Chewie propped his paws on her leg, and let out a little whine. Angie bent down and gathered the puppy to her chest, burying her face in his fur. She let the tears fall, not caring that she was in a park, that there were people around, that she never cried.
"Maybe we should rename him Kleenex."
Max’s voice came from behind her, with that combination of tease and compassion that she had heard a thousand times before. Angie took in a breath, swiped the tears from her face, then got to her feet, still holding Chewie, as if the puppy could be a wall against her emotions. "Sorry, just having a bad day."
"I’m sorry, Angie." He took a step closer, and her stubborn heart leapt with hope.
When was she going to learn? When was she going to give up, let this go? Max was marrying someone else, and she was just going to have to learn to live with that fact. Even if it broke her heart in the process. "I’ve got to get Chewie home," she said, turning away because if she looked into Max’s eyes for one more second, she was going to start crying all over again, "because he’s hungry after our walk."
"Then let me go with you."
She shook her head. "Don’t. I’ll be okay. Besides, it’s Valentine’s Day." She worked a smile to her face, but it hurt like hell. "You’re supposed to be with the woman you love."
"I am."
The two words hung in the chilly air, and for a second it felt as if she could touch them, hold them, keep them warm in her pocket. "You…" She shook her head. "I’m confused."
"I am with the woman I love," he said. "Right now."
"Becky—"
"Wasn’t right for me. I was trying to fit her into this neat little checklist because that was easier than taking a risk. Than letting my heart do the thinking." He reached out and took one of her hands in his. Between them, the ticket stub crinkled in his palm. "I got the ticket you left in my pocket, and it made me realize something. You know me so well, better than I know myself."
Angie tore her gaze away from him, afraid to believe, to trust. "Max, I—"
He pivoted her chin until she was looking at him. "Here I was preaching at you to take risks when it was me who was afraid. Afraid of losing you."
Now a smile curved across her face, and took hold. "Don’t you know, after more than twenty years together that you could never lose me?"
"I know it now." He traced her lower lip, and she opened against his touch. "And because of that, I don’t think we can be friends anymore."
"What?" Those damned tears rushed to her eyes again, burning. "What do you mean?"
"Because we’re going to be so much more." His gaze met hers, held. "Husband and wife sounds much better than best friends, don’t you think?"
Had she heard him right? He wanted to marry her? "This isn’t about your timeline, is it?"
"Not at all. I don’t care if you marry me before we’re thirty or before we’re a hundred. As long as you marry me someday. Because Angie, what I said before is true. You're the only one in the world who can make me laugh on the worst day of my life. The one person who always remembers I'm allergic to onions, and the one who once gave up her seat on a flight to Cancun to stay behind and nurse me through a man cold. And that is true love, the kind that will be there tomorrow and the day after that and all the days down the road."
She smiled and her heart sang. "That really is an amazing proposal."
"And the only one I should have been making. I was afraid to end up like my father, and I hadn’t even realized until today that by choosing Becky, I was repeating the very mistakes I wanted to avoid. You’re the one who makes me laugh and cry and scream and…" he grinned, "a lot of other things. You’re the one who makes my life…whole."
Whole. Yes, that was exactly what she felt when she was with Max, how she had felt since that first day with the Starburst on the bus. "You do the same for me," she said. "You always have."
He slid the ring out of the box and onto her left hand, then closed his palm over her fingers. "I love you, Angie. As a friend, as a woman, as my other half. Will you marry me?"
She curved into Max’s chest while their dog danced around their feet, tangling them in the leash. "Anything else is inconceivable."
They laughed, the merry sound carrying on the winter air, as lovers walked past and Valentine’s Day caught the city in its magical, romantic spell. And in one tiny corner of one tiny park in the massive city of Boston, two best friends found happily ever after in each other’s arms while a puppy named Chewie slobbered over them both.
Enjoy reading The Millionaire Tempted Fate?
Excerpt from The Bride Wore Chocolate
Book 1 in the Sweet and Savory Novel series
CHAPTER ONE
Candace Woodrow stared at the gooey, sunken mess inverting onto itself like there was a Hoover under the table. "This was supposed to be a groom's cake, not a pancake."
Rebecca poked at the chocolate failure. "Did you cook it long enough?"
"I thought I did," Candace said. "I lost track of time because Trifecta needed to go out."
"I've seen you with that dog." Maria wagged a finger at her. "Taking a three-legged dog for a walk is a comedy of errors." She gave an indulgent smile to Candace's shelter-rescued mutt, dozing in the front part of the shop, separated from the kitchen by a glass door. "We still love ya, Trifecta, even if you are a living tripod."
Candace laughed. The best thing about working with her friends every day was the laughter. Without them, she swore she'd have gone crazy planning her wedding.
Two years ago, the three of them had started Gift Baskets to Die For in the basement of Candace's Dorchester duplex. Within a year, their food-themed baskets had hit it big with the corporations in Boston, allowing them to open a storefront in a quaint building not far from Faneuil Hall Marketplace. Business had been brisk enough to pay both the rent and decent salaries for all of them.
Candace's life was settled, secure. On an even, planned keel. She was twenty-seven, three weeks from being married, and her life was chugging along on the path she'd laid out.
Everything was perfect—except the cake.
"Maybe the eggs were spoiled," Candace said. "I mean, look at this thing. It's an overgrown hockey puck."