An Ounce of Hope(27)

 

 

Max turned back to Ruby, pushing any thoughts of sex or green eyes from his mind. "So are we gonna hang out while I'm here?" he asked.

"Absolutely. I can make dinner. You can meet Josh properly."

Max pulled affectionately on a piece of her hair. "Sounds good."





Max's uncle, Vince, opened Masen's Boardinghouse long before Max was born, with his first wife. For the ten years before they divorced they welcomed visitors to the town with good food, hospitality, and a decent bed. Vince's second wife, Fern, Ruby's mom, took on the running of the boardinghouse with little fuss and an expert business eye, while Vince set up what would become Masen Construction. The Masen family had long been an unquestionable force and brought more money into the town than anyone else. To say that Uncle Vince was a hero to the community would have been an understatement.

With a towel around his hips and steam billowing out of the bathroom door behind him, Max wandered back into his room, glancing at the wall-mounted clock to see that it was a little after seven in the morning. He lifted his underwear and jeans from the bed and pulled them on. The room he was staying in was pleasant enough with a large bed, TV, and wardrobes. The floral drapes were not quite to Max's taste, but he'd learn to tolerate them.

He sipped quickly from the cup of coffee he'd made with the standard percolator before pulling on his socks, boots, and a black Sonic Youth T-shirt. He was working for his uncle again-determined to pay for his stay one way or another, even with manual labor, despite his uncle's protestations that Max was there to take it easy and recuperate. But Max had shut down his uncle's concerns. It kept Max's pride from taking a hit with free bed and board, and because his uncle was a stubborn ass and wouldn't take any money, it kept him busy both physically and emotionally, and that was always a good thing. His terrors, for the most part, had stayed away, but he wasn't taking any chances.

He sprayed on some deodorant, rubbed the towel over his hair, popped some gum into his mouth, and grabbed his jacket.

Opening the door and vacating the room, he walked smack into something, or rather someone, moving quickly down the hallway. He grabbed at the flailing arms and held whomever it was upright, while cursing under his breath when the toe of their shoe rammed into his shin.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry!"

Max gained his bearings and looked down at the rushing, apologizing idiot, immediately captured by mesmerizing green eyes and a complete look of surprise. Grace. He released his hold and took a step back. "It's okay. No problem," he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. Great. Just what he needed first thing in the damn morning. 

"I caught your leg," she insisted, a hand at her mouth. "I really am sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going."

"It's fine," he replied, turning from her to lock his door.

"I woke up late because I was working last night and I need to get to the house before the windows arrive. I promised Vince." She continued to ramble even as she reached to the floor to pick up the bag and phone she'd dropped.

Max frowned in confusion. Windows? Vince?

"Are you sure your leg's okay?"

Max exhaled, clutching as much serenity as he could to his chest, and smiled politely. "I've had worse."

Seeming to sense his impatience, she nodded and quickly averted her gaze. "Okay. Well, sorry again." She maneuvered around him, all but darting past like a nervous animal.

Max watched her hurry away, shaking his head wryly when he noticed the ass Buck had mentioned a couple of days before.

Yeah, he was right.

It was slammin'.

Thankfully, Grace was nowhere to be seen when Max finally got outside and to his rental truck. It was an overcast April morning, with the remnants of the night's rainfall gathered in large puddles on the ground. Starting the truck, Max headed away from town toward the site his uncle was working. The project was a huge house, potentially beautiful, set back against the green of the forest. It took only ten minutes in the truck and, when Max arrived, work was well under way.

He waved at his uncle, Josh, and the other guys as he clambered out of the truck and jogged over to where they were unloading a shitload of windows.

"Did ya bring breakfast?" Vince inquired as he heaved a large window from the truck with the help of two other workers.

Max smirked. "'Fraid not."

Vince huffed. "The hell am I payin' you for?"

Max chuckled and got down to work, lugging the windows, timber, and tools up to the house before starting to help with the slow but steady construction of the first-level floors and walls. Hours passed swiftly being so busy. Max's muscles burned gloriously from all the heavy lifting, and the banter with the crew was light. They almost certainly knew who Max was and why he was there, but he couldn't have given less of a shit. They seemed to accept him readily into their team, being Vince's nephew and all, and that, for Max, was enough.