Chapter Two
July 12th, 12:35 a.m.
Max London tapped his glass on the bartop and raised a hand at the bartender. Although, he should slow down or he’d be staggering home.
“Let me get your next drink,” came a sultry voice he recognized. The last time he’d heard it, it was laden with anger. Now it dripped with desire.
He turned to face Paloma. She crossed her legs and leaned against the bar, the silk of her dress pulling taut in all the right places. And damn, the woman looked really good in red. Asher was a fool to let her walk away.
“How about I get yours?” she asked, oozing confidence and sex. Was it hiding sadness underneath? She had to see the way Asher looked at his neighbor.
Before she told Brian her order, a pretty pink drink was set in front of her. Had she even ordered one? “Did you have a lager, Max?” the bartender asked.
“IPA,” he ground out. Couldn’t Brian, who was the regular weekend bartender for over a year, remember it? He didn’t seem to have the same problem with Paloma.
Fuck, he was as bitter as his drink. It was time to go home. “Add her drink to my tab, then close it.” Max downed his beer. It was time to sleep off his shitty mood.
He’d enjoyed dancing with Lilith, but there hadn’t been a spark between them. His only plan was to drop her off on his way home, and he hadn’t appreciated his friend’s insinuations and attitude. Asshole.
“Don’t leave so soon,” Paloma purred, resting a hand on his knee.
The words were clear enough. It was their meaning that had his mind spinning. Her palm slid higher on his leg, and his gaze darted between her hand and her face, to those hot, red cupid lips. They curved into a smile that sent his pulse racing. Her fingers traced even higher on his thigh, and his confusion vanished. Oh. Oh.
“What about Asher?” he asked.
“Honey.” She leaned closer. “I don’t wait around for any man who looks at another woman the way he looks at her.”
Every impulse in his body screamed to say yes. Which is exactly why he shifted his leg from her touch. Paloma was hotter than the July sun, but his first instincts were usually his worst—and right now, every single one of them was begging him to accept.
She shrugged and reached for her drink. He couldn’t help watching her full red lips press against the glass as the amber liquid slipped down her throat.
Wait. Amber?
He glanced at his drink. It was pink. He raised his brows at her.
“Sorry.” She didn’t sound it and he couldn’t help grinning. He liked her sass. “Brian thinks he’s cute giving me that drink. It has grapefruit in it. I hate grapefruit.” She took another sip of his drink.
He wrinkled his nose. He couldn’t blame her for the theft. At all. “Grapefruit is nasty. Why does he make it for you? ”
She pointed at the cocktail. “It’s called a Paloma.”
“You’re named after a drink?”
“Yup. According to my parents, I was conceived on a wild vacation in Mexico when my mom discovered the drink.”
Max chuckled. “I thought it was after Pablo Picasso’s daughter.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Figured maybe your parents were into art. Back in high school, our senior year, you were in my art class. And way more talented than me.”
“Thanks.” She smiled, and he was positive it was the first genuine one during their conversation. It was beautiful. “Not that I’ve drawn or painted for fun in years.”
“But your job is creative. You’re an interior designer, right?”
She tilted her head. “How’d you know?”
When she and Asher first got together, he’d mentioned they’d met while he’d been building a house she was designing. But for some reason, Max didn’t want his friend in his conversation with Paloma.
“We live in a small town,” Max said. “Isn’t it a prerequisite to know everyone’s business?”
She groaned. “Ugh. It is.” Picking up his drink, she swirled it, then took a sip. Setting it down, she said, “You, um, I don’t know what it’s called, but you design landscapes.”
Warmth spread through his chest that she knew what he did for a living, but even so, he couldn’t hold in a grin. “Landscape architect. Yup, for homes and businesses.”
She stared at him for a full three seconds or so, then blinked and said, “Wow, you have a really nice smile.”
He dropped his gaze to his stolen drink. “Oh, uh, thanks.” He rubbed the back of his neck .
“Don’t tell me the guy who designs million dollar gardens gets flustered over a simple compliment,” she teased
“I don’t—” He fiddled with the paper umbrella in his glass of her old drink. “They’re not million dollar gardens.”
She took another sip of his drink, peering at him over the rim. “So half million then? And you’re still avoiding the compliment part.”
His face burned hot enough to match her dress. “I design functional outdoor spaces that—” He caught her raised eyebrow and stopped himself. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
“Hiding behind work talk? Yup.” She nudged his shoulder with hers. “But it’s kind of adorable.”
A laugh escaped his recently clenched jaw. When had his dark mood slipped away?
“And your work is outstanding,” she finished.
He sat up taller. “Oh, and how do you know?”
“I decorated one of Asher’s builds. During our final walk-through with the client, the landscaping was finished. Later, when I saw Asher I mentioned how impressed I was with the design. He told me your company had done the work.”
Forget his chest warming—it was damn near swelling with pride. “Thanks.” He swirled his new pink drink and took a small sip. He grunted as the sweet and sour flavors hit his tongue. “This isn’t too bad. The tequila masks most of the grapefruit taste.”
When she didn’t reply, he glanced at her. Her red fingernails tapped on the bar top as she stared at nothing. He waved a hand in front of her, and she blinked. Her eyes held a bright gleam, though different from the earlier flirtatiousness.
“Could I hire you?” she asked.
Had he read her wrong? Was she hitting on him again? If so, this was by far the oddest pickup line.
Max scratched his cheek. “I’m not following . . .”
“I have a super swanky client. It’s a couple with a gorgeous home in Brighton on Woodland Lake with lots of windows. They want a year-round garden in their house. And I don’t mean a few potted plants, but something lush and hardy that blends with the vibe of the indoor decor.”
Oh, she actually wanted to hire him for a job. And his dumb ass was a little disappointed.
And also intrigued. An inside garden would be an interesting challenge, and he admitted as much to her. He ran his finger along the rim of the drink in front of him. “I already have a lot of jobs scheduled.”
“I understand you’re busy, but this isn’t just any job. It’s a chance to create something truly unique—a living, breathing work of art that seamlessly integrates with high-end interior design. We’re talking about transforming an entire section of their home into an oasis that changes with the seasons, right alongside Woodland Lake’s stunning views. It’s not just landscaping; it’s sculpting an ecosystem. Plus, the budget . . . let’s just say it reflects the caliber of the project.”
He balanced the possibilities in his mind, absently running his thumb over the worn edge of the bar top. “I’ve already got a full schedule. I’m not sure my company is the right fit.”
Taking on another project would eat up the sliver of free summer he had, and he didn’t need the business or the money. But the concept tugged at him like a loose thread he couldn’t help but pull. This wasn’t just another job—it was the kind of innovative challenge that could transform and grow his company .
His gaze flickered to Paloma as the bass thrummed through his chest, matching his quickened heartbeat. Turning her down had been the right thing to do, even if every sip of his new drink seemed to taste of regret.
“I’ve seen your previous work. You can do this.”
Her certainty got under his skin. For a moment, he saw himself through her eyes: not as the screw-up in his family who made too many impulsive choices. Yes, he saw the irony in taking on an impulsive project to prove he wasn’t impulsive, but something about it—and her—had him intrigued.
“Walk me through the concept one more time.” The smile that crossed her face told him she’d known all along he’d say yes.
The attraction hit him like gravity, but beneath it lurked a nagging voice. Her relationship with Asher was barely history before she’d turned those siren eyes his way.
It didn’t matter. This was about work. He’d keep it about work.
“How about you come with me to their place tomorrow?” she said. “I’ll show you my plans for the house and what they’re looking for with an interior garden.”
He could fit it in, so why not at least look? “Sure. What’s the address?”
She gave him another brilliant, genuine smile, and his pulse raced, his heart smacking against his ribs. Shit. Good thing he’d managed to hold in his impulsiveness and had turned her down before they’d started talking. The more he got to know her, the more he liked her. He could already tell he’d have wanted more than a night with her. And all she wanted him for was to get over another man.
Working together was the smarter choice. They shook hands and he ignored how he liked the feel of her soft skin against his callused palm.