Chapter Thirty-Five
November 25th, 9:30 p.m.
P aloma’s gaze drifted to the mishmash dinner of pizza and roast, the steam rising from the dishes. Her stomach churned, a stark contrast to the usually comforting aroma of her mother’s cooking and her favorite pizzeria. The job offer and her father’s suspicion that there might be more than work between her and Max hung in the air, mixing with the garlic and tomato sauce.
The Louisiana project could be the stepping stone she needed to establish herself as a versatile, in-demand professional. A businesswoman who seamlessly transitioned from residential to commercial spaces, from cozy homes to bustling hotels—she could master both. It was also an opportunity to show the world—and herself—that she wasn’t the same na?ve woman who almost lost her business and heart.
But what about her and Max? Then again, this could work in her favor with him as well.
“What do you think?” her father asked.
Always the pressure with him. He demanded and wanted everything immediately. That would be another issue if she took the job. She’d constantly be drawing boundaries.
“I don ’t know, Dad. I need more details,” she replied. “There are a couple of small projects I’ve committed to. I’d need to make sure they don’t conflict.”
“I’m sure you could juggle it,” her father said dismissively.
“And it sounds like an amazing opportunity,” her mother added.
There was no doubt it’d be good for her career. And while she’d never admit it to Max, the timing of this opportunity was perfect. The thought of staying, of letting their relationship run its course saddened her. Her past had taught her the same lesson: once men got to know her, they left. Hell, even her father was nearly a stranger. But losing Max would damage her heart. A slow withdrawal will be better, safer. The fall wouldn’t hurt as much when he inevitably walked away.
“When does it start?” she asked.
“After the holidays, in mid-February,” her father said. “But I’m leaving tomorrow to check out the sites, and you’ll need to go with me if you’re interested.”
“Tomorrow! Why would you wait until now to tell me? Do you think I don’t have other projects?”
Her father took a bite of roast, taking his time. After swallowing, he said, “I had to see how the Sterling project went. And you’ll have time. After this trip, you’ll have a few months until it starts.”
She pushed away her plate. Eating was impossible. “And you didn’t consider that I might have other things to do,” she snapped.
He waved a hand. “When we talked a few weeks back, you told me you didn’t have anything big after Sterling. So, do you?”
She shook her head. “No, but—”
“But nothing. This is big. Could be bigger than what even the Sterlings could do for your career.”
She wante d to look at Max, but by doing so again, her dad would return them to the spotlight. And admitting she and Max were more than business partners would take away all credibility in her father’s eyes. Plus, everything her father said was true. Having experience in the home and hospitality sector would be amazing for her career.
“I need to think about it.” She took a sip of her wine.
“Then think about it while in New Orleans. Tell me at the end of the trip,” her father said. “It’s only three days.”
She nodded, her fingers tightening around the smooth glass, fighting to keep her expression neutral. To her left, Max shifted in his chair, drawing her attention. She resisted the urge to look at him, acutely aware of her father’s scrutinizing gaze.
Felix cleared his throat. “Hey, Max, how’d that bid go for the winter festival at that ski resort opening up?”
“The one that’s opening in the next town over?” her mom asked.
Max nodded. “Yup. They want a grand opening party with snow and ice sculptures, live music, and games.”
Grateful for the change in subject, she quickly glanced at Max. Their gazes met briefly, and she saw all the questions he wanted to ask, but she wasn’t ready to answer.
“I think we’ll get it,” he replied. It’ll be something slightly different from our usual projects, but it will be fun.”
Her father leaned forward, interest in his eyes. “What exactly is your role as a landscape architect in this?”
“My role . . .” Max began, then paused, clearly distracted. “Sorry. My role is designing the outdoor spaces for the festival.”
Max reached for his drink, taking a quick sip before continuing. “I’ll design temporary and permanent landscape elements for a winter wonderland s etting. This includes planning spaces for ice sculptures, creating a layout for a snow maze, and designing an area for an outdoor ice bar.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “That sounds lovely! But how does landscaping work in winter conditions?”
“We’ll focus on creating spaces that will showcase winter features.” Max rolled his fork between his fingers. He glanced her way, offering a quick smile, a flash of connection she knew better than to trust. “For instance, we’ll incorporate evergreen plantings that look beautiful under snow. The lighting schemes will highlight ice formations and snow-covered areas. But everything will work double-duty in the summer, creating shaded retreats for the hikers.”
Her father nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. “And how does this tie into the existing resort architecture?”
The dinner dragged on. She pushed food around her plate, appetite long gone. And when her mom asked if anyone wanted coffee, Paloma seized her chance.
“It’s been a long day, and I still need to take Max home,” she said, rising quickly.
“And possibly pack?” her father asked. “I’m heading out at six in the evening.”
“I’ll call you in the morning,” she replied.
He nodded. “Fine.”
“Thank you for dinner; it was delicious,” Max said, and his too-quick movements told her he was as anxious to get out of there as her.
They made their hasty goodbyes, exchanging quick hugs and promises to get together soon. The cool night air hit her face as they stepped outside, offering sweet relief from the stuffy dining room.
Once settled in the truck, Max’s cologne, a scent she’d grown to associate with comfort, filled the small space. For a brief moment, she was tempted to take his hand, to accept the reassuring warmth of his skin against hers. The urge to lean over and kiss him, to forget about New Orleans and her father’s expectations—her ambitions, her fears—was overwhelming.
Before she could do either, he put the truck in reverse and drove toward his home. The engine’s hum filled the tense silence, punctuated only by the rhythmic click of the turn signal. Streetlights cast alternating patterns of light and shadow across Max’s face, highlighting his slight frown. Her mind was too full to figure out what to say, and it seemed Max had nothing to say.
He finally spoke when they were a few miles from his house. “So . . . New Orleans, huh?”
She glanced out the side window. “Yes. It’s a great opportunity.”
“And us?” he asked, parking in his driveway.
“Max.” She pulled her car keys from her purse. His house was dark and lonely—just like her future would be if she had let him in completely. “Can we hold off on this conversation until I get back? I should only be gone a few days.” That was all she needed, a few days to think alone, without Max’s summer blue eyes and perfect smile.
His jaw tightened. “No. You said we talk about us when we returned. We’re back.”
“And I have a lot on my mind.”
“Except me,” he snapped.
“That isn’t fair. This isn’t about you. It’s about my career.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. You’ll always pick it over me.”
“I didn’t realize I had to pick.”
He sighed, looking at his house, then back at her. “You don’t. But I need to know where I stand with you.”
“Fine, do you want me to lie to you? Tell you everything will work out even though accepting the job will change things between us.”
“The ch ange doesn’t have to be bad. We can make it work.” He took her hand, his thumb circling her palm. “I could fall for you.”
Her heart soared, then deflated like a knife twisting in her chest. Because “could fall” meant he hadn’t—and he wouldn’t. Distance would creep in. He’d meet someone else, someone less complicated, less afraid. She’d seen this movie before.
She slid her hand from his. “Could we please put this on hold until I get back?”
“Fine,” He sighed, opening his door, the interior light blinding her. “Goodbye, Paloma. Enjoy Louisiana.”
He paused with his hand on the door. His gaze was heavy, and it took every ounce of her self-discipline not to turn and meet those eyes she was growing to love. She held her breath, her heart pounding. But the moment passed, and she heard the soft click of the truck door closing.
He walked away, not looking back.