7. Max
MAX
Ipace behind the makeup trailer with Margot’s phone pressed to my ear. Margot is the kind of woman who’d hand over her life savings if I asked nicely; she’d given me the phone without a second thought.
“I don’t have long, I’m at a retreat,” I say the second Dean picks up. “There’s a woman here.”
I launch into a list of grievances, my words coming fast and sharp.
I tell him about the hour of pageant stories she made me sit through, the hot air balloon, and the way she looks at me like I’m an insect she hasn’t decided whether to squash or ignore.
I tell him she’s bossy, demanding, and convinced she can pull my strings like a puppet.
Then I tell him the real problem.
“And then last night, she smiled at me.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end, the kind that makes me wonder if the call dropped. Then Dean’s voice comes through, dry and unimpressed. “I’m not sure I see the problem, Max.”
“She smiled at me and now I’m spiraling,” I snap, kicking at a loose piece of gravel. “I was up all night thinking about her. She runs the retreat, Dean. I’m not supposed to like her, and she doesn’t like me at all.”
She thinks I’m a moron, and I can hardly blame her.
I actually said Let me know if you need a hand.
It’s the kind of low-brow, cocky shit I’ve said to a hundred women.
And it works. Every single time. But the second it left my mouth, it didn’t feel the same.
With Heidi, the words don’t just bounce off.
They land. They felt heavy and honest and entirely too real, and I’m completely out of my depth.
I lower my voice, checking the corners of the trailer to make sure no one is listening. “Look, you’ve tamed a dragon before. I need to know how you did it.”
Michelle, my former boss, is the gold standard for cold. She’s all sharp edges, yet Dean somehow managed to dismantle her. If anyone understands how to handle a woman who looks at you like something she’d rather scrape off her shoe, it’s him.
“First of all,” Dean says, “don’t call my wife a dragon if you want to keep your teeth.”
“Sorry,” I mutter.
Dean exhales, his tone dropping into something pragmatic. “Look, with a woman like that, you aren’t going to charm your way in. You’ll never out-talk her or out-logic her. You have to change the game entirely.”
He hesitates, and I wait.
“You make it physical. You get her so hooked on what you can do for her behind a locked door that her brain can’t keep up the icy act anymore. You level the playing field there, and the rest of the personality stuff eventually follows.”
“That’s not exactly helpful, Dean. She wouldn’t touch me with a hazmat suit on.”
“Michelle said much the same, but pride doesn’t stand a chance against chemistry. Stop talking to her head and start talking to her body. Once you get under her skin, that ‘hazmat suit’ talk will disappear.”
“Right,” I say, the weight of the challenge settling in my gut.
We hang up, and I find Margot waiting exactly where I left her. I hand the phone back. “I trust you’ll keep this between us?” I ask, giving her that practiced, lopsided grin, the one that usually solves all my problems.
She beams up at me, her eyes dropping to my lips before lingering a beat too long on my chest. “Of course. Is there...anything else you need? Anything at all?”
“That’s everything, Margot. Thanks.”
“Well,” she says, her voice dropping as she offers a clear invitation. “Let me know if you need anything later. I’ll be around.”
I watch her walk away. With one word, I could have her. It’s always been that easy. But as I turn back toward the house, Margot’s the last person on my mind.
Of all the women in the world, I have to want one who can’t stand me.
This is a disaster.
But there’s something about her. Even with her hair tied up and her corporate gear, she’s easily the most beautiful woman here. It’s the freckles, maybe. Or just the way she carries herself. But it’s her smile that actually makes me short out. It keeps me awake at night.
I can’t let it go. I don’t want to.
Heidi is flesh and blood. She has a pulse I know I could get racing, if I could just get close enough.
I’ll find a way under her skin.
For three days, I try every trick in my playbook, and Heidi has shut them all down.
I’ve tried leaning into her personal space, testing a touch here or a look there.
I tried the vulnerable leading man bit during the sunset shoot, dropping my voice and looking at her like she was the only person in this god-forsaken place; she just told me to stop squinting because it looked like I’m reading lines.
I tried the accidental brush of our hands while reaching for a water bottle—a move that usually earns a blush—but she yanked her hand away like she’d catch something from me.
I’ve even tried being genuinely helpful with the crew, hoping she’d soften. All I got was a clipped, “Thanks, Max. Hit your mark.”
It’s infuriating. I’m used to women leaning into me, not working around me like I’m a piece of faulty equipment. If I’m going to rattle Heidi, I have to step it up.
This morning, I found the DP and pitched a scene for my redemption arc.
I told him the audience needs to see me stripped of the designer suits.
Just a man alone with his thoughts. He bought it.
By the time Heidi catches wind of the schedule change, the sauna is already prepped and the cameras are rolling.
I’m draped on the cedar bench, the fog so thick I can barely see my own knees. I’m wearing a towel, hitched low and doing just enough to stay legal. I’ve been sitting here for ten minutes, sweating for real, waiting for her to come down and chew me out for messing with the schedule.
She doesn’t disappoint.
The door swings open, cutting through the steam. I know exactly who it is before she even speaks.
“What the hell are you doing?” she snaps, stepping forward until she can see me.
“Sweating. You?” I say.
Heidi steps into full view. Her hair is already starting to frizz in the humidity, and her cheeks are flushed pink within seconds.
“Out.”
I follow her out into the hall, suppressing a grin.
“What is this?” she asks. She’s in her usual corporate getup.
“I’ve been thinking,” I start, noticing her gaze is locked on my face and not my chest. “I’m ready to get serious. I need to sweat out the old me. And I think the viewers will like what they see.”
I gesture down, and that does it. Her eyes drop to the towel, then snap back up.
“You don’t get to call the shots around here. And we don’t need footage of you looking like a boiled lobster,” she says.
She’s not easy. Fine. I’ll adjust.
“You’re right,” I say, my voice lowering as I step closer. I don’t give her space to move. My hand comes up, resting against the wall beside her shoulder. She stills.
I lean in, close enough to catch the citrus of her shampoo. Up close, that glare doesn’t hold quite as steady.
“This redemption arc you want,” I murmur. “I am trying. I’m trying to be the version of me you can work with.”
I pause, just enough to let it sit.
“But I keep getting distracted.”
I shift closer, just slightly.
“By someone I shouldn’t be thinking about. Someone who definitely isn’t on that approved list of soulmates.”
My gaze drops to her mouth, then back to her eyes. I shift closer. Time to push.
“All I can think about is how she’d look if she finally stopped holding it all in.”
Something in Heidi’s expression softens. There it is.
For a second, I’m tempted to leave it there, but then I remember Dean’s advice.
“I’d like to bend her over something sturdy and show her what it’s like not to be in control for once.”
Her mouth opens, then clicks shut. She’s paralyzed. I have her exactly where I want her until a high-pitched squeal punctures the air.
“Max! Oh my god, there you are!”
I’m forced to take a step back, the spell breaking instantly. It’s Penelope. She’s wearing a red string bikini and an expression of desperate hunger. She doesn’t even notice Heidi; she launches herself at me, her palms landing flat against my damp chest as she practically grinds into my side.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” she coos. “The spa is so...empty. Want to show me how the sauna works?”
Heidi rolls her eyes so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t see her own brain.
“You’re not allowed to talk off camera,” Heidi reminds her. Her voice is back to that professional, clipped tone. “But since you’re here, we can get some shots of you two together. In the sauna.”
She turns on her heel and walks away, her back rigid. I watch the way she moves, Penelope’s chatter fading into background noise.
That landed. I know it did. I finally got a real reaction out of her. Now I just have to find a way to make it happen again.