Quarter Mile Hearts(19)

I can’t get enough of him and am practically sitting on his lap in the front seat of his car. Deft fingers unbutton the top two buttons as he kisses lower, heading toward my breasts that are being revealed with each button he undoes. All I see when I look down is the top of his head and dark hair that is begging to be pulled. So I do. My fingers delve into it and grip it tightly. Somewhere in my foggy brain, I know that as soon as his lips make contact with my nipple, it is game over, and I will be putty in his hands. A minute ago, I was fighting with him, and now I am kissing him like I’m some sex-starved lunatic. Which is quite possibly a good description of me right now.

I pull on his hair harder, and his head rises to look at me, no doubt wondering why I’ve stopped him.

“Stop.” My voice is embarrassingly breathless and lacks a certain amount of conviction. He leans toward me to claim my lips again, but I press my hand against his chest.

“This can’t happen, Max. Please take me back for my bike.” I bite my lip to stop myself from letting him kiss me. He regards me for a long minute, as if trying to weigh how far he can push me and whether he should try it or not. Even if he did try it, I don’t think I would put up much of a fight.

Deciding not to push it, he releases me and pulls back. Two hands run through his hair and down his face before he turns to the front and starts up the Subaru. I am left feeling like the villain at stopping what might have been an even bigger mistake. As much I try to deny it, I enjoyed being in his arms and having him kiss me like he needed it to survive.

The drive back to town is much slower and sedate. Max doesn’t say a word, and after throwing me a couple of furtive glances, he doesn’t look in my direction again. It makes me feel worse; I know he’s mad at me, and for once, this bothers me. After all the years we’ve spent throwing insults at each other and staring daggers at each other, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him genuinely mad—certainly not with me—and I feel like crap. As if I’ve wounded him.

Even when we pull up outside Beth’s house, he doesn’t say a word; he just sits staring straight ahead with the engine idling, waiting for me to climb out of the car.

“Thanks for bringing me here.” No answer and he refuses to look at me. “I… uh… I’ll catch you later.” A curt nod is all I get and I scramble out of the car and run over to my bike. I expect to hear a roar of his engine as he pulls away and speeds down the road, but it never comes. It occurs to me then that he is waiting to make sure I get my bike started okay or something.

I pull on my helmet, mount the bike, and fire up the engine. Slowly, I walk it down the drive and raise my hand at Max before driving down the street at a much slower speed than usual. The headlights in my mirrors stay with me until I reach my house, and once I’ve pulled into the drive, I see Max’s car continue down the street. I stand and watch until the taillights disappear before I head inside.

Even though I know stopping our kiss from going further was the right thing to do, I feel empty inside. Like I did something wrong and hurt him. Maybe I was a bit harsh and shouldn’t have said those things. But when I’m around him, I get all… argh, I don’t know what, but I end up saying things that I know will annoy him.





Chapter Seven




Any hopes I had of sleeping in are short-lived when Beth starts calling at ten am. Although I woke at eight, I felt my heart sink the minute I remembered how I left things with Max last night. God knows how I’m going to make it right with him, but I need to—and not just because we have to be able to work together. In the grand scheme of things, he isn’t a bad person. Yeah, he’s a player and sometimes thinks he’s God’s gift, but when you look like him, I imagine it is hard not to act like that.

“Yeah?” I stifle a yawn when I answer my cell.

“When are you coming over?” she asks impatiently.

“When do you want me?” I yawn and roll over, resisting the urge to pull the duvet over my head and stay there.

“As soon as you’re ready. Cocktails will start when you get here.” The excitement in her voice makes me feel like a total party pooper.

“Okay, I’m getting up. Be there soon.” I lie; there is no way I’m getting there before noon because we’ll be trashed by two. Although that might be a good way to approach this wedding planning nonsense.

“Good. And hurry up.” I hang up mid-lecture and remain in bed for another ten minutes, trying to muster up the enthusiasm to get up. The foremost thought I have is that I need to make things right with Max before it gets awkward at work.