An Ounce of Hope(41)

He hated that he'd done that.

He hated that Grace believed she was less attractive than Fay-who was watching him predatorily from her seat near the pool table-and he was truly perplexed that Grace wasn't aware of how hot she was. As much as he maintained his sexual distance, keeping their relationship as platonic as possible, Max wasn't immune to the way Grace looked.

Jesus.

A year ago, he wouldn't have given a shit about her feelings, his feelings, or anything else for a chance to get her into bed, against a wall, in the backseat of his car, on his desk in the body shop office, but now things were different.

Since rehab, he had feelings about this shit. He knew Grace had feelings and, as much as she assured him that all she wanted from him was sex, he knew that no woman was that black and white. There were always areas of gray where someone got hurt; someone was left disappointed. Max had been that guy, moving from one piece of ass to the next with no regard for how they felt or who he was hurting. He fucked to forget and in doing so, he forgot what his bed partners felt or wanted. He was an asshole.

But he wasn't that man anymore.

Grace was good people. Optimism glowed from her and he couldn't mess with that. Like he'd told her, she deserved more. She deserved to be treated like a queen by a guy who wasn't fucked up, who wasn't always thinking about his next score. She deserved a man to be thinking about her 24/7, who made her laugh and smile.




 

 

She leaned on the bar as she chatted to Deputy Yates, who, as always, looked like he wanted to ravage her senseless. Prick.

Max pondered. If he could go back two days and answer Grace's question again, would he sleep with her?

Hell yes.

Of course he would.

Damn, he'd fuck her until she screamed. He'd take her in every position he could think of. He'd taste her and make her skin gleam just as it did when they ran. He'd watch her as she came, knowing it would be fucking awesome, and then do it all over again until she begged him to stop. Grace was the kind of woman who deserved to be pleasured hard, pleasured thoroughly-

"You okay over there?" Ruby asked, smirking into the lip of her bottle of beer, knowing full well who Max was looking at.

"Yeah, I'm good," he answered, ignoring her wiggling eyebrows.

Buck snorted. "Of course he's good, he's watching RiRi." He stood up, shaking his ass and slapping it while singing off-key: "Bitch, better have my money!"

Everyone laughed. Ruby rolled her eyes before she snuggled into her husband's side. "You fellas."

"She's smokin', Ruby," Buck stage-whispered as he sat back down. "Am I right, Max?"

Max didn't answer, suddenly finding the toe of his boot fascinating.

"I would wine and dine and slap the hell out of her ass," Buck continued. "And then I'd kiss it better."

Everyone around the table sniggered. It was clear to Max that Buck was perfectly harmless; nevertheless, his words caused a stirring of unease in the depths of Max's belly.

Buck sat up straight, his stare on the bar. "I should ask her out."

"Don't, Buck," Ruby said with a laugh. "You're drunk."

Buck stood, pulling his Black Sabbath T-shirt at the hem in an attempt to look presentable. He ran his hands through his shoulder-length blond hair and made his way, swaying ever so slightly, over to the bar. Max and the entire group of fifteen others watched in hushed silence as Buck smiled at Grace, who smiled back. After a moment, he handed her some money. Grace took it and handed him something in return that looked like a piece of paper. Max kind of hoped it wasn't her phone number. Buck winked at her and walked back to the table.

"What the fuck?" Josh exclaimed.

"That's how you treat a woman, my good man," Buck answered with a smile, folding the piece of paper Grace had given him before wafting it in Josh's face.

Josh coughed a laugh, clearly impressed. "Is that her phone number? Did you actually ask her out?"

Buck dropped back onto his stool, all bravado gone, and lifted the paper. "I tried but then she asked me what I wanted, so"-he opened up the receipt-"I ordered some wings for the table." 

Even Max laughed loudly.

It had been a long time since Max had enjoyed himself quite as much, without the help of any illegal substances. He was sober and clean and it felt good; his initial worry about being back in the bar dissolved in the relaxed atmosphere. As the night progressed, Buck got drunker and, the more he drank, the funnier he became. He played rock song after rock song on the jukebox, which Max was all for, and danced on his stool despite being told numerous times to get down and be careful. He tied his belt around his forehead as he performed a stunning and energetic air guitar and shouted every single word to every Led Zeppelin song played.