Chapter Eleven
September 6th, 12:15 a.m.
P aloma wrapped her thin cardigan around her, shivering as the cool night air caressed her skin. She stared at the line of light on the water created by the nearly full moon. The gentle water lapping against Hope’s dock was a soothing rhythm, punctuated by the occasional creak of wood beneath their feet.
Although her friend seemed the opposite of relaxed, her posture was rigid, and she gripped her wine goblet tight enough to shatter it.
“What’s wrong?” Paloma asked. “Did I piss you off?”
“No, why do you think that?” Hope replied.
She’d had her monthly sunset cruise on her pontoon with friends. Lilith was naturally among them since they lived in a small town, and Asher was Hope’s twin. Paloma might have been a tad standoffish.
“For nettling Asher’s neighbor ,” she said, “I should have kept my petty jabs to myself.”
“You. Petty, never.” Hope shook her head theatrically.
“Shut up, asshole.” Paloma pinched her friend’s arm playfully. “I’m not that bad.”
Hope snor ted. “I recall in high school when Tammy forgot to add you to the group text for her Halloween party. The next day in homeroom, you dressed up as a ghost, telling everyone you were invisible to certain friends. After she apologized and made a new group text, you came to the party as a vampire and stood on her porch until she specifically asked you to come inside.”
“I was making sure. We all know vampires can’t enter a home without being invited in.” They laughed at the memory, and when the sound drifted off on the night air, she turned to Hope, the old glider they shared squeaking like a mouse. “But I should have left Lilith alone and not called her out. That was a bitch move. My dad called on the way over to your place. I was taking my annoyance out on her.”
“But you weren’t wrong.” Hope’s brows furrowed. “Wait, what happened with your dad?”
“What wasn’t I wrong about?” Paloma asked.
“Forget it. Tell me about your dad.”
“No way.” She wagged a finger. “I’d much rather hear about me being right.”
Hope smiled but turned toward the lake, her jaw tightening. “Maybe not this time.”
In the silence, Paloma studied her friend, replaying the evening. Hope had been in high spirits on the boat, but afterward, she’d gone quiet. When had that happened? Ah, when she had walked Lilith to her car.
“She admitted it finally,” Paloma said. “That’s she’s with your brother?”
Hope nodded. “We argued. Me and Lilith.”
“Would it help to talk about it?” She didn’t want to talk about Asher, who was part of her past. But Hope was a good friend, so Paloma would listen if needed.
“I’m good. I said my piece. She will do what she wants with it.” Hope waved a hand as if brushing aside the topic. “Tell me about your dad. What did he want?”
“He wanted to lecture me on not screwing up my big chance.” She hated the edge of self-doubt in her voice.
“Oh? What big chance?”
“I bid on a new kind of project with Max London.” She smiled, a little firework going off in her chest. “We landed it.”
“So that’s why he’s bailing on Crowley Construction. To play with Pretty Paloma,” Hope teased. “And congratulations. Is the project local?”
“No, Traverse City. It’s one of the homes of Roy and Linda Sterling.”
Hope straightened. “The Sterlings? No way!”
Paloma’s grin widened. “Yup, them.”
“That’s amazing. Congrats to you and Max.”
“Thanks,” she sighed. “I wish my dad had reacted the same. He spent the whole drive lecturing me on how not to screw this up, how I need to watch Max like a hawk because partnerships can go south fast.” She gulped her wine, hoping to swallow the burn of humiliation crawling up her throat. “Like I hadn’t learned that lesson the hard way.”
“I don’t think you have to worry about Max. He’s hardworking and honest.”
“We do work together well. And he’s got a great eye for detail.” The issue wasn’t his work ethic but her attraction to him. She had the keep her eye on the prize, and not Max’s ass. Lust was temporary; careers were not.
“That’s cool,” Hope said, swirling the wine in her glass. The moonlight glinted off the surface, casting a faint red glow on her hand. A cool breeze rustled through the trees behind them, carrying the scent of pine and lake water.
“I need ed this,” Paloma sighed. “A quiet moment with my friend, good wine, and this view. It’s like hitting a reset button on the week’s stress.”
Hope hummed in agreement, then said, “You know, I’ve always thought you and Max would be great together. As a couple.”
Hit by Hope’s out-of-left-field comment, Paloma nearly choked on her wine. “What? Why would you think that?” she sputtered, her pulse quickening. A warm flush crept up her neck, and she hoped the moonlight wouldn’t betray her reaction.
Max had crossed her mind numerous times, usually late at night when her defenses were down—or when he was near, smelling like someone she wanted to lick. Or when he gave her his sunshine smile.
Yet, she couldn’t ignore the persistent ache in her chest, the longing for something more. Working with Max pleased, scared, thrilled, and confused her.
Hope chuckled, setting her glass down on the small table between them. “You’re both creative and passionate about your work. Like Max, you’re playful and sexy. You two would be hot in bed.”
Picturing Max naked, sweaty, and pressed against her, whispering all the ways he’d make her come had heat plummeting south. Pushing that tantalizing treat aside, she smirked. “Are you asking to watch?” She wiggled her brows. “I always suspected you were kinky.”
“Definitely,” Hope agreed. “And I’m also right. You two should mix business with pleasure.”
For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine it—not just the sex but the intimacy. Max’s warm smile directed at her, not as a colleague but as someone more. His strong hands holding her instead of soil and plants. But then she shook her head, pushing the fantasy away.
“Fine, I admit it; I’m attracted to him. I’m certain he feels it too. Or at least he had.” Paloma stared at her wine. Professional distance replaced his usual warmth since they’d taken on the Sterling project. “But we agreed that keeping things professional is the smart move. This partnership is working so well for both of us. Why risk that for a fleeting physical attraction?”
“Is it fleeting? You seem to admire him. Or at least respect him,” Hope pressed.
“As a work partner,” Paloma clarified. “That doesn’t mean he wants to put up with me as a girlfriend.”
“What’s this, ‘put up with me’? You are a catch. Hot. Driven –”
“Too driven.”
“That’s your ex talking, not you.”
“Maybe,” she conceded. “But I’m not willing to risk losing an amazing business partner for lust.”
“Can’t it be just that, lust?”
That was tempting, but Max wouldn’t go for it, and she wouldn’t risk losing a business partner and her heart when he tired of her. “I’d suggested that before we started working together. He turned me down.”
Hope flinched. “Ouch.”
Paloma shrugged. “He had his reasons. And while those reasons are gone, I get the vibe he isn’t one for no-strings sex before it was my pride that was hurt. What if I suggest it now and I offend him? It’d make working together weird. And again, I don’t see the point of messing with a perfect working relationship for lust. I’ve got toys to take care of that. I can’t find another business partner like Max.”
“Honey, if your vibrator is better company than a man who keeps up with your ambitions, I need the brand because mine just lie there taking up space like the men I date.”
Paloma laughed, tempted to point out that all of Hope’s exes disappointed her because she avoided dating the man she truly wanted—her best friend, Jackson. But since she had her own hard-earned trust issues with men she didn’t want to poke at, she kept her observation to herself.
She stood. “It’s getting late. I should get home.”
“Are you okay to drive?” Hope asked. “You’re welcome to stay here.”
“This is my second glass all evening, and I’ve been nursing it for the last hour.”
Hope rose from the glider. “I’ll walk with you to your car.”
Leaving behind the lake, they walked along the side of Hope’s house toward Paloma’s car. “I can’t believe how fast summer flew by,” she said.
“I know. But I am excited for the cider mills. I’ve been craving apple cinnamon donuts since last year.” Hope smacked her lips and rubbed her stomach.
“And don’t forget the harvest festival,” Paloma grinned. “This time, I’m taking home that blue ribbon for the coolest carved pumpkin.”
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she fished it out, expecting another call from her father. Instead, it was Max asking if leaving early for Traverse City on Friday still worked for her.
The thought of it made her stomach dip. She could see it clearly—her fiddling with the radio, searching for the perfect playlist to fill any awkward silences. And Max, his gorgeous profile, staring wordlessly out the car window. Three hours, possibly more, confined in the car with his cologne mixing with the stilted conversation.
She took a deep breath, but the butterflies continued to twirl and dip. Exhaling, she couldn’t help smiling. Despite her nerves, she couldn’t deny the spark of joy that ignited in her chest at the prospect of spending time with Max. Her thumb hovered over the reply button, alternating between tapping out a flirty and fun response or one that was all business. She went with boring.
Paloma: Works for me
Max: G reat. Will pick you up at 7.
She stared at the message, so different from his usual warm texts with their playful emojis and casual banter. She’d have close to four hours trapped in a car with this new, distant version of Max.
“Earth to Paloma.” Hope waved a hand in front of her face. “You’ve been staring at your phone like it offended you.”
“It’s Max.”
“And that brief response has you frowning because . . .?”
“He’s been different lately. Withdrawn.” Paloma leaned against the porch railing. “Ever since the initial meeting with the Sterlings, he’s built a wall between us. I’d thought he was annoyed with my bitchiness when we ran into your brother and Lilith at the Coffee Bean. I was a touch,” she held two fingers wide apart, “rude. But it’s been almost a week, and the easy conversations, the inside jokes, that spark when our eyes meet—it’s all gone.”
“Did you ask him why?”
“No. Work has been crazy busy for us; we’ve barely seen each other. And why bother?” She stood and hugged her friend. “It’s for the best. Like I said, mixing business with pleasure is asking for trouble.”
“But you two would be soooo hot together,” Hope teased.
She wiggled her shoulders. “Girl, I’m hot with anyone.”
“That’s true. Drive careful and text me when you get home.”
Paloma nodded, getting into her car. Her phone buzzed again.
Max: I’ll bring the site plans.
Short and curt. Professional, distant words that shouldn’t make her heart ache, but did.
She pressed her forehead against the cool metal of her car, cursing. The end of the week would rush toward her, and then the ride to Traverse City would crawl to a standstill. It’ll be an eternity—three hours of carefully measured wor ds and avoided glances. Three hours of pretending she didn’t miss his sunshine smile or how he leaned close when she spoke, like he wanted to take in every word.
Three hours of wondering what changed and if she should try to fix what she must have broken.