Lucas takes my hand, holding it in his. “I just want the best for you, Char. You know that right?”
I nod. “Of course.”
“And I’m all for rebounds, but you can’t live with your rebound. That’s not how it works.”
I stare at him pointedly. “For the last time, Max and I are just friends. It’s not like that between us.”
“Yet,” Lucas adds, annoyingly.
“Talk to Max if you don’t believe me. Even if I wanted more, he would never be interested.”
“Aha, but you do want more?” he asks—like he’s caught me.
He stares me down for about five seconds before I cave.
“Okay, fine. I might be a little bit attracted to him.”
“A little bit?”
I scowl at Lucas, letting him know he’s pushing it. “It doesn’t matter because he’s not interested in anything more than friendship, and he barely wants that.”
“Charlotte, did the guy say he wasn’t interested or are you assuming that he’s not?”
“Well…”
I think back to the moment we kissed. He didn’t act completely uninterested.
You have no idea how tempting you are.
Those words thrilled me. Kissing him thrilled me. The way he tasted, the way he felt, all of it, intoxicating. Everything about that moment took me to a level of desire I didn’t know existed. But still…I threw myself at him, wearing nothing more than a wet bra and panties. If he could resist me at that moment, then whatever attraction he felt couldn’t have been all that powerful.
Of course I can’t tell any of this to Lucas, because then I’d have to explain myself, and I really don’t want to tell him about that day on the beach.
“No.” I shake my head. “He’s not interested. I’m sure.”
Lucas eyes me skeptically. “Somehow I don’t fully believe you.”
“Maybe because I don’t want to believe myself. Because if he is, he has some impressive willpower.”
His eyes round on me suddenly. “What, little sister, is that supposed to be in reference to?”
“Nothing,” I say too quickly. “I’m just telling you what I think.”
It’s clear he doesn’t believe me, but none of this really matters to Lucas anyway. He’s just being a good brother in that he doesn’t want me to jump into anything too soon. All he wants to be sure of is that nothing is going to happen between Max and me.
“If it bothers you, I could always move in with you,” I say, knowing exactly what he’ll think of that.
“In the crash pad? I don’t think so. Better to deal with one guy than a mob of horny pilots and flight staff.”
Lucas works as a flight attendant for American Airlines, Miami being his home base. The people in his apartment are always changing depending on flight schedules. From what I’ve seen and heard, his crash pad can be crazier than a frat house.
“Char, if you need help getting your own place, I can lend you the money,” he tells me, and I love him for it, because I know he doesn’t make that much money to begin with.
“No, it’s okay. Really.”
“But I feel like I’m leaving you stranded.”
“You’re not. Besides,” I gesture to the house. “Look at this place. Who wouldn’t want to live here?”
We both turn to look at the house, taking in its ethereal beauty. The sun is setting behind us, its soft glow casting warm amber hues on the picturesque, fairytale setting.
“It is like another world out here,” Lucas allows.
“It sounds crazy, but I feel like I’m meant to be here. I feel…at peace.”
We both know he’ll just have to take my word for it. Nothing I can say will make him happy about this situation, but he knows nothing he can say will make me change my mind.
He turns to face me again. “I’ve got to run, Char, but before I go, just promise me that you’ll take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
“Whether or not this guy likes you, go with what he’s saying. If you’re really here to start over, focus on that.”
“Okay, Luke.” My words are less than appreciative of his advice, but deep down I’m glad that he cares. I think he finally gets that I’m human, that I bleed, and I need to heal just like everyone else. I hate feeling like I need to live up to his and everyone else’s high expectations.
I give my brother another long hug before he leaves, and we make promises to have lunch together next week. It’s kind of nice, knowing he’s right around the corner. After only being able to spend time with him on holidays and special occasions for the last few years, it makes me happy to be near him again.
Once his car pulls away, I head back inside the house. Max and Trevor are both there waiting, catching me by surprise. Max wasn’t lying when he said he’d stay within earshot.
“Everything okay?” he asks the second I shut the door.
“We’re fine now,” I assure him. “Luke just needed to let off some steam.”
He looks me up and down as if he’s inspecting me for bruises. “That doesn’t excuse the way he yelled at you, Charlotte.”
“If you think his temper was bad, you should meet the rest of my family. My other brothers make Luke look like an enlightened monk.”
“Then I wouldn’t want to meet them.” His gaze is hard, and his voice is deadly serious. It catches Trevor’s attention too, but neither of us remark on it.
Thankfully Stephanie distracts us all, ending the conversation. “I’m starving!” she yells. I look up to see her bouncing down the staircase two steps at a time. When she notices me, a huge smile appears. “Charlotte, will you have dinner with us?”
I’m not that hungry, but I don’t want to turn down her invitation either. “I’d love to.”
“Great! Come on.” She grabs me by the arm. “I need you to help me cook. The men in this house are only good for ordering pizza.”
“What’s wrong with pizza?” Trevor asks.
Stephanie ignores him, pulling me alongside her. “Can you cook?”
“Somewhat.”
“Somewhat works for me. You’re in charge of potatoes and any veggie of your choice. I’ll take care of the meat.”
Trevor snickers. “That’s what she said.”
Stephanie levels a dark glare at him. “Trev, hon, if you want to eat, you need to shut the hell up.”
He goes back to typing on his laptop, doing as he was told.
“I’m happy to help, if you need me,” Max offers.
“But you never help me with dinner,” Stephanie says, sounding suspicious.
He rubs the back of his neck, shrugging. “Figured I’d be nice.”
“Thanks, but I think Charlotte and I have it covered. You and Trev can do the dishes.” She steers me toward the kitchen, but before we’re out of the room, I catch Trevor giving Max a strange look.
Max tosses one of the sofa pillows at him. “Shut up,” he grumbles.
“Didn’t say anything,” Trevor insists.
Once we’re out of earshot, Stephanie releases my hand. “I know that sounded kinda mean. I wasn’t trying to be,” she tells me. “Max has many talents, but cooking is not one of them.”
I head toward the sink, turning on the faucet to wash my hands. “It’s okay. I get it. My mom doesn’t let my oldest brother near the kitchen. He set the fire alarm off so many times, she finally had to ban him.”
She laughs at that. “So then you do understand.”
“Yes, but come to think of it, Max did make me a mean egg sandwich this morning. Are you sure you’re not giving him enough credit?”
“He can make simple things,” she allows. “But God help him if he has to measure anything out. Just ask him about the Blueberry Muffin Incident.”
“Oh, no,” I say, chuckling. “I think the name gives it away.”
I dry off my hands, looking around the large kitchen for the pantry. It’s in the corner. I open the door, scanning the shelves for potatoes.
I reach for a hefty bag of potatoes, lifting it off the shelf. “You think so?”
“Yeah, I do. It makes me happy you’re here.”
“Well I’m glad to be here.”
“By the way, Max told me you were the one who found him that night in the alley. I want to thank you for saving his life. There are no words for how much that means.”
I turn around, touched by her words. “Believe me, he’s repaying me tenfold.”
Stephanie shakes her head. “Doesn’t compare.” Her eyes turn glassy, taking me by surprise. “Oh, look! I need to stop before I start crying. I just wanted to let you know how grateful I am, and I haven’t told Trevor yet, but I know he’ll be grateful as well. That’s all.”
“You don’t need to tell him. It’s no big deal—”
“Yes, I do, and yes, it is,” she says sternly. Then she takes a deep breath, and fans her face with her hands. “I just needed to get that out. We should get to work before I have a meltdown.”
It’s easy to see how much Stephanie loves Max, and I’m glad that he has her in his life. He doesn’t seem to have many friends, but the ones he does have give me the impression that they’d take a bullet for him. That kind of friendship doesn’t come easy.
We turn on some music, then go to work preparing the food. While I’m peeling the potatoes, I think about Max’s reaction again. I feel myself becoming more attached to the idea that something might happen between us, wondering if there’s a chance. The thought both excites and scares me at the same time. Was Lucas right about him being a rebound? I really hope that’s not the case, but even I suspected I might be latching onto him. If I had a job and friends already, I could judge the situation unbiased—wait, actually that’s not a bad approach. I’ll simply leave my feelings on pause for now, but as soon as I get my life together here, I’ll reevaluate. Because I can’t just press the stop button. Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to.
It’s not that bad of a plan. A good, healthy, possibly even Lucas-approved plan.
Later, over dinner, Stephanie brings up work related things, and it catches my attention. Max tries to steer the conversation in a different direction. “Let’s save it for the office,” he tells her, but not before she lets it slip that he’s the owner of one of the most prestigious online news aggregators in the city. The country even, she says with pride.
“You didn’t know Max owns the Gritty Voice?” Stephanie asks me, and I catch Max scowling for some reason.
Oh my gosh. They’re all writers! How have I lived here this long without knowing what they did for a living? It’s not like me to miss something so blatantly obvious.
“No, I didn’t,” I say, unable to stamp down my enthusiasm. “Just the other day, this woman told me I should apply there. She called it a huge success with the millennial crowd.”
“What an idea!” Stephanie says, leaning forward in her seat. “You should apply there, Charlotte. You’d fit right in. Hey, and it doesn’t hurt to know the boss.”
“That would be amazing!”
Max is sitting across from me, looking a little upset, making me wonder if he doesn’t approve. “Would you consider it?” I ask him tentatively.
He looks caught off guard, as if he’s not sure how to respond. To Stephanie, he says, “The receptionist job you’re thinking of was already filled. Briggs hired someone yesterday afternoon.”
“So? Find her a different position,” Stephanie counters back. “It’s not as if you don’t have the authority.”
Before he can reply to that, I speak up first. “I would work my ass off for your company, Max. You can pay me minimum wage if you want. Better yet, make me an intern. I’ll prove myself before you start paying me. You have to give me a chance—oh, and my best friend has a story. A big story. I could get you the exclusive rights.”
Stephanie’s eyes widen at that part. “What kind of story?”
“Well…” I look around the dining room, absurdly, because it’s not as if anyone can overhear us. “Don’t mention this to anyone, but her boyfriend has tracked down an ancient shipwreck carrying a cargo that’s value is estimated in the billions.”
Mentioning Wesley’s treasure is a grasp at straws. I have no idea whether or not he would allow me that kind of access, but I’d like to think my friendship with him and Doll means something. If this convinces Max to hire me, I wouldn’t be averse to begging and pleading Wesley for those exclusive rights.
“What ship?” Max asks, sounding skeptical. As far as I’m concerned, at least he’s interested.
“The Flor de la Mar.”
Trevor hits the table, rattling the dishes. “Bullshit.”
I can’t help but appreciate that I have his attention now too, even if he doesn’t believe me. He recognizes the name and the history that’s attached to it. That’s all that matters.
“I swear it’s true.” I lean back in my seat, maybe a tad too arrogantly. “I could get you everything. Footage, interviews, you name it.”
Doll would roast me alive if she heard this, but I’ll worry about that later.
“Did you mention this in your other interview?” Max asks me, still looking unconvinced.
“They didn’t give me the chance. I didn’t even make it to the interviewing part before they threw me out on my ass in favor of some kid who had connections within the company.”
Stephanie shakes her head sympathetically. “How terrible.”
Trevor sputters, setting down his glass of iced tea. “Really, Steph? You do realize you’re asking Max to use his power to get her the job, don’t you?”
“That’s different,” she replies stiffly.
“How so?”
She doesn’t answer him, instead choosing to stuff her mouth with a bite of mashed potatoes. He just shakes his head at her.
I’m starting to worry that this conversation may end in a resounding no, and I don’t think I could bear hearing another one of those. “Please, Max. If you give me a chance, I swear you won’t regret it.”
His dark brown eyes pierce into mine. We hold each other’s gaze for what feels like the longest time. “Okay,” he says, giving in. “I suppose we can try it out on a temporary basis—hey!”
As soon as I hear the word okay, I rush around the table, unable to contain my excitement.
“Cut it out! Rule Number 1! You’re not abiding by Rule Number 1!”
“Thank you! Thank you!” I say, still hugging him.
“You gave her those stupid rules, too?” Stephanie asks.
Despite his hesitation, I feel Max’s arms enfold me for the very briefest of moments. “You’re welcome, kid. Now get off me.”
I let go of Max, noticing a flash of amusement in his eyes. Maybe he isn’t so repelled by hugs after all. Even with all the fuss, I suspect he secretly enjoyed that.
“So when do I start?”
“Monday will do fine.”
I sit back down, still floating on my pleasure cloud. I have a job. A real, honest to goodness job.
“You’re gonna love it there,” Stephanie adds, sounding just as excited as me. “You’ll learn a lot from Briggs. He’s an amazing editor. Personally, I think Max runs the place better than anyone, but these days, he does most of his work from home.” She tilts her head as if she’s not in agreement with that decision, but no one comments on it. “You’ll have the best of both worlds though. You’ll have Briggs and the rest of the staff during the day, and if you have any questions that go unanswered, you can always bring them to one of us while you’re at home.”
It occurs to me that will be the only downside—I’ll have fewer opportunities to see Max now that I’ll be gone most of every day. It makes me wonder why he allows his editor to run his website. He should be there running it. Oh well. I can always do as Stephanie suggested. If I have to, I’ll invent questions to ask him to see him
more often.
“You sound way too pepped up about this, Steph,” Trevor comments, eyeing his girlfriend closely.
She frowns at first, and then she leans close to his ear, whispering something.
“Really?” he asks her, appearing genuinely surprised. She nods, confirming his question. Then Trevor looks at me, a little dazed, making me wish I knew what they were talking about.
“Anyway,” she continues, steering her attention back to me. “I’ll swing by on Monday just to make sure you get settled in nicely.”
“That would be great. Oh geez—what should I wear?”
Max chuckles at this. “I’m sure you’ll look fine in whatever you choose.”
Hearing his vote of confidence is reassuring.
Once we’re all finished eating, the guys take charge of clearing the table. Max disappears into the kitchen. Trevor lags behind him, giving me a funny look, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
“Are you okay?”
He looks down at his feet and back at me again. If I’m not imagining things, he seems nervous, which is really strange coming from him. He’s usually so annoyingly sure of himself, in the not giving a damn what anyone else thinks of him kind of way.
Then, unexpectedly, he throws his arms around me and mutters a raspy, “Thank you,” before heading out of the room.
I look at Stephanie. “Translation please?”
“He’s bad at expressing emotions. I told him about you and Max…how the two of you met.”
The whispering. Now it makes sense. That was kinda sweet, actually. Trevor looked sincere as he hugged me, his gratitude palpable. “I wouldn’t have expected that from him,” I muse aloud.
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she advises me. “Most likely by tomorrow, he’ll be his normal, asinine self.”
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