CHAPTER SEVEN
Frankie
I looked at the embossed card containing the wedding activities and frowned. The rest of the afternoon was supposed to give the wedding guests time to enjoy themselves while the bride and groom got ready for the rehearsal dinner.
After the disastrous end to the brunch, Max had gone to spend a few minutes with his mother, telling me we’d go on a walk before dinner.
The rehearsal dinner. Another opportunity for Tiffany and her gang to impress upon me how I didn’t fit in.
I frowned thinking about what I’d packed.
My clothes were considerably lacking when compared to the other guests, and the dress I’d brought for tonight was no different.
I thought about going into the small boutique at the lodge and trying to find something else, but then I knew everyone would know what I’d done and there probably wouldn’t be anything in my size.
I’d made peace with my curves. Did I wish I was supermodel thin like most of the female guests here? That my hair didn’t frizz in the Montana humidity? That my hands weren’t quite so rough? You bet I did.
I’d gotten the job at the hardware store because I’d grown up with a father in the construction business and knew the difference between a flathead screwdriver and a Phillips, and I wasn’t afraid of hard work.
And the fact that the manager’s other hardware girl had gotten married and quit. He’d been a little desperate.
Max had told me to wait for him at the trailhead. As I made my way there, I glanced over at the lodge’s floor-to-ceiling glass windows. Inside, Tiffany and Max stood close together, talking. Immediately my thoughts went there, despite my best efforts.
Look at them, Frankie. He’s a Wilder. Rich and handsome despite making his home on the side of a mountain. And she’s the perfect foil for a man like him. Pretty and slim. Educated with manners.
I clenched my hands at my sides, pushing those dark thoughts away.
I had no right to feel the jealousy surging through me.
Yeah, the man had kissed me. Twice. I’d woken up with his arms wrapped around me, an obvious sign of desire pressing against my backside.
But none of that meant anything. I was here because he’d needed my help.
He’d needed a fake date for his ex-girlfriend’s wedding.
“I’m here to help him, not destroy myself in the process,” I muttered, turning on my heel and hurrying away from the lodge.
I needed air. I needed to remind myself that when Monday came, I’d be back behind the counter, and he’d be back on his mountain. And what happened here would stay here, a beautiful, torturous memory I’d replay on lonely nights for the rest of my life.
Why had I agreed to this? Oh right, because I was an idiot who’d thought a weekend pretending to be Max Wilder’s girlfriend would be fun.
I hadn’t counted on the part where I’d actually start to believe the fantasy.
Where his touch would start to feel real.
Where I’d look at him and think maybe, just maybe—
No. I shoved that thought down hard with the rest of them. Men like Max didn’t end up with women like me. Not in real life. Not when there were Tiffanys in the world. Beautiful, polished Tiffanys.
I’d been walking for twenty minutes or more, the silence finally drowning out the memory of Tiffany’s shrill voice and my own spiraling thoughts, when footsteps crunched on the trail behind me.
I turned, half-expecting Max.
It wasn’t Max.
“Well, well. The hardware girl, all alone in the woods.” Leo appeared around the bend, his tie loosened and his jacket gone. He had a glass of something amber in his hand and that particular glassy look that said it wasn’t his first. “Fancy meeting you here, Frankie.”
My stomach dropped. “Leo. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your rehearsal dinner?”
“I’ve got time.” He moved closer, and I caught the sharp scent of bourbon. Lots of bourbon. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to talk to you. Without my cousin breathing down my neck.”
I took a step back. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Oh, I think there is.” His gaze traveled over me slowly. While it had the same dismissive look as before, there was something else there. Something that made me take another step back. “See, I’ve been watching you. Watching how you look at Max. Like you can’t believe your luck.”
“Leo—”
“And I get it. I do.” He took another step forward. “Small-town girl, works at a hardware store, suddenly gets a ticket to the big leagues. Must feel like winning the lottery.”
Angry heat flooded my face. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you’re out of your league, sweetheart.” He said it almost kindly, which somehow made it worse. “Max is just scratching an itch. You had to know that, right? Guys like him, like us, don’t end up with girls like you.”
“Like you? You’re nothing like Max, despite desperately wanting to be.”
He continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “We have our fun, sure, but when it’s time to get serious?” He gestured vaguely back toward the lodge. “We pick women who fit.”
“Like Tiffany?”
“Exactly like Tiffany.” He smiled, taking another drink. “Beautiful, educated, knows how to handle herself in society. Not someone who...” His gaze dropped to my hips, my thighs. “Someone who looks like she spends her days hauling lumber.”
My hands clenched into fists. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m honest.” He moved closer still, backing me up against a tree. “And honestly? I think you know I’m right. Max is going to get bored. Probably already is. So, here’s what I’m thinking—”
He reached out, trailing his fingers over my arm. I jerked back. “Don’t touch me.”
“Come on, Frankie. Don’t be like that.” His voice took on a wheedling tone that made my skin crawl. “I’m trying to do you a favor here. When Max dumps you—and he will—you’re going to need a friend. Someone who appreciates...” His gaze raked over me again. “A woman with your particular assets.”
“Get away from me.”
“Why? Because I’m telling you the truth?
” He laughed, the sound ugly. “You think Max Wilder is going to keep you around? You think this is real? You’re a rebound, sweetheart.
A warm body to make Tiffany jealous. And between you and me—” He leaned in, his bourbon breath hot on my face.
“I’d be happy to keep you warm when he’s done with you. God knows you’ve got the body for it.”
That was it. I drew my arm back, ready to introduce Leo’s face to my fist, hardware-store-girl style.
But I didn’t get the chance.
“Get your hands off her.”
The voice came from behind Leo, low and deadly. I’d never heard Max sound like that before. Barely contained violence wrapped around his words.
Leo spun around, stumbling slightly. “Max. We were just—”
“I know exactly what you were doing.” Max moved into view, and I sucked in a breath. He looked like murder. His hands were curled into fists at his sides, and his eyes were pure fury. “You’ve got three seconds to step away from her.”
“Easy there, Max, calm down. We were just talking.” Leo tried for casual and missed by a mile, but he didn’t back up. “I was just being friendly with your little—”
Max’s fist connected with Leo’s jaw before he could finish the sentence.
The crack echoed through the trees like a gunshot. Leo went down hard, his glass flying from his hand to shatter on a rock. He landed on his ass in the dirt, blood already trickling from his split lip.
“What the hell,” Leo sputtered, his hand flying to his mouth. “You actually hit me.”
Max stood over him. “Touch her again, talk to her like that again, look at her like that again, and I’ll make sure you spend your honeymoon in a hospital bed.”
“She’s just some—”
Max took a step forward, and Leo actually scrambled backward like a crab, his eyes wide with genuine fear.
“Finish that sentence,” Max said, his voice deadly calm. “I dare you.”
Leo’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked between Max and me, something ugly flickering across his face—humiliation, rage, the particular fury of a man who’d just been put in his place. “You’re going to regret this, Max.”
“The only thing I regret is not hitting you harder.” Max’s voice was flat, final. “Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind about letting you walk away.”
Leo stumbled to his feet, nearly tripping over a root in his rush to leave. He took off down the trail, weaving slightly as he went.
I stood there, my back still against the tree, my brain trying to catch up with what had just happened.
Max had punched Leo. The groom. The day before his wedding.
All because Leo had cornered me on a trail and said things.
Granted, they had hurt more than I wanted to admit, but I had never aroused that type of reaction in a person before.
And from a mountain man who had barely smiled at me.
Max turned to face me, and some of the fury drained from his eyes, replaced by concern. He closed the distance between us in two strides, his hands coming up to frame my face. “Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head, not trusting my voice.
“Frankie.” His thumbs brushed my cheekbones, his touch impossibly gentle for a man who’d just laid his cousin out. “Talk to me.”
“You punched him.” My voice came out breathless, shaky.
“Yeah.”
“You punched the groom.”
“Yeah.” His eyes searched my face. “And I’d do it again. I’d do worse. No one talks to you like that. No one.”
And that’s when it hit me — the full weight of what had just happened. Max hadn’t just defended me. He’d chosen me. Over family, over keeping the peace, over everything.
“He grabbed you,” Max said, like that explained everything. “He said—” His jaw tightened again. “I heard what he said, Frankie. Every word.”
The laugh died in my throat.
His hands slid from my face to my shoulders, his grip firm. “And for the record? He’s wrong. About all of it.”
I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him so badly it hurt. But Leo’s words were still echoing in my head. Out of your league. Small-town girl. Girls like you.
“Frankie.” Max’s voice dropped. “Look at me.”
I did.
“You think I’d bring just anyone here?” he asked quietly. “You think I’d let just anyone stand next to me in front of my family?”
“I thought—” I swallowed hard. “I thought you needed someone. Anyone. To make Tiffany think you’d moved on.”
“I know. And I’m grateful. I also know you saw me with Tiffany, and you ran.” His hands tightened on my shoulders. “You don’t run from me, Frankie. If you’re upset, you tell me. You don’t walk off into the woods alone.”
“I needed air.” I hated that he knew I’d left without him because I’d seen him with Tiffany. What he did was his own business. He pulled me closer.
“Say it.”
“I won’t run,” I whispered. “I’ll tell you. I promise.”
“Good.” He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine. “Because when I came looking for you and couldn’t find you, when I heard Leo’s voice and realized—” He let out a harsh breath. “I’ve never been that scared in my life.”
“You were scared?” I asked, surprised.
“Terrified.” His hands slid down to my waist, pulling me flush against him. “And then when I heard what he was saying to you, I saw red. Nobody talks to you like that, Frankie.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “Is that what this was? You defending your fake girlfriend’s honor?”
“There’s nothing fake about how I feel when some asshole disrespects you.”
The intensity in his eyes stole my breath, but before I could process what that meant, he pulled back slightly.
“Come on,” he said. “We need to get ready for dinner. Wear the blue dress tonight.” His hand slid down to cup my hip, possessive and sure. “I want Leo spending the entire dinner regretting every word he said to you.”
“How did you know about the blue dress?”
“I pay attention.” His thumb traced slow circles on my hip. “To everything about you.”
And then he was kissing me, not gentle, not asking—claiming. And I kissed him back with everything I had.
When he finally pulled back, we were both breathing hard.
“Come on,” he said, taking my hand. “Let’s go face the music. And Frankie?”
“Yeah?”
His smile turned wicked. “Next time Leo looks at you wrong, I’ll try and restrain myself and let you punch him yourself.”
“How did you know I was about to do that?”
“Because I know you, Frankie.”
I laughed, following him back down the trail, my hand warm in his. Behind us, Leo’s shattered glass glinted in the fading light — a fitting end to his attempt to make me doubt.
But I wasn’t doubting anymore.