Sadie
Stolen Property
Max O’Reilly has my keys. That was a turn of events I didn’t see coming.
The man of the hour slides into the booth next to me, taking up nearly all the legroom while saying something cheeky to my sister.
I’ve never quite understood why men feel the need to spread their legs so far—obviously a little is needed, but I could fit a stuffed full Ikea bag between his knees, and there’s not a man alive packing that much heat.
"Can you…" I wave my hand toward his lap, trying to get him to give me some space. But Max… he could never make this easy on me. I’m starting to think he takes pleasure in making me squirm. He scooches even closer, pinning me between the wall and his muscular thigh—the one I don’t want to admire but physically can’t help from noticing.
"I guess you could say that yes, she’s always been a little bossy, but we prefer the term confident in our house.
" My sister winks back at Max after rightfully putting him in his place, and I want to shout in glee. Mal may give me more grief than anyone else in the world, but she’s also the first to defend me.
"Touché. Tough crowd." Max takes a swig from his beer, and in this close proximity I try not to stare at the way his throat works when he swallows. Actually, it’s hard not to notice every little detail about him with only inches between us. He smells of linen laundry soap and something more manly. His eyes are crystal blue from this angle—the bluish-purple shiners he’s sporting highlighting their color—and his hair curls up a little over his ears in all its unruly glory.
Objectively, he’s hot. I’ve always known it, everyone in town knows it, and worst of all—he knows it.
Reaching for my wine, my elbow bumps into his bicep. "Sorry," I mutter as my eyes meet his. "Actually, no. I’m not sorry. You’re here, invading my space after stealing my car."
"I didn’t steal it, not really anyway." Max finishes his beer, still twirling my keys around with his fingers, while I'm momentarily transfixed by the motion.
Of course, he just has to have attractive hands.
While some women love a man with a nice ass or perfectly straight teeth, I have always had an obsession with hands.
Too many men have either short, stubby sausage fingers, or too long, oddly gangly ones.
But Max’s are the perfect size, proportionate with veins weaving their way across the back of his hand, calloused palms, and neatly trimmed nails.
They are working hands, ones that you know could get you out of a jam but would also feel good jammed into you.
Jesus, I need to slow down on the red.
"You okay, Sade? Looking a little flushed." My sister, the asshole, takes this moment to call attention to my staring. She knows about my little obsession, so naturally she has to exploit it, it’s some sort of older sibling law.
"Yeah. I’m great. Just wondering when, if ever, you’re going to answer my questions." My eyes lift, connecting across the tavern to my cousin. Howie ducks his head and pretends he didn’t see me. "Actually… I think I just got all the answers I needed."
Max lifts his hand in the air toward the server, then points at his drink. She nods her head, smiling shyly at him—because of course she would. "Is that so, slugger?"
"Hilarious." I purse my lips into a tight, sarcastic smile. "Howie asked you to get my car and fix it. Now you’re here to return it because if you had brought it to my house like a normal person, there wouldn’t have been an audience to see what a selfless guy you are."
"Sadie!" Mallory scolds.
Max puts a hand on his chest and acts like I’ve stabbed him. "And here I thought your head was the most dangerous thing about you." He takes a deep breath. "That mouth—that shit cuts deep."
I cross my arms over my chest, bumping into him yet again from the lack of space. "Tell me I’m wrong then? Did you steal my car from Sid for some other reason I'm not aware of?"
Max drops the keys on the table between us, slides out of the booth, and begins to walk away. Mal stares at me, eyes wide, horror present on her face. When he’s three or four steps away, Max turns back.
"Sadie, I know it’s been a while since you’ve lived in Mage Hollow, but people around here try to help each other out.
Your cousin is one of my best friends, so when he called in a favor, I jumped at the opportunity to assist you.
" He turns back toward the bar and really walks away this time, pushing out the front door of the tavern.
"You should be ashamed of yourself." My sister's words echo in my mind, but I almost can’t hear it over my now guilty conscience shouting at me. I was rude, shit. I hate being a jerk to people, most of all when they don’t deserve it. The whole thing is just too much, though. I’ve had too many boxes checked in the loss column lately, and his taking control of my auto repair without telling me—the very definition of too much.
I know I have to make it right. He did a nice thing, and no one deserves to be treated that way. I look at my sister, realization dawning on her face that I’m going after him. "Pay the bill and meet me around back."
I slide out of the booth, hightailing it toward the front door.
My hand collides with the handle at the same time my shoulder slams into it, and the door flies open.
I look left, no Max. I look right, no Max.
Finally, I spot him across the street, sitting on a bench near the center of the square.
I jog, as much as one can in slide sandals, until I’m standing right in front of him.
Max doesn’t look up from his phone, and I’m suddenly tongue-tied.
After a few moments pass, he lifts his chin. "Did you come over here to give me the evil eye, or what are we doing?"
My mouth opens and closes a few times before I motion with my hand for him to scoot over.
I sit down next to him, turning my body sideways so he can see my face.
"I’m sorry." I don’t know if it’s a good idea, but I reach out and grab his hand from where it’s resting on his thigh and give it a light squeeze.
Electricity runs up my arm, not like the little shock that you get when folding towels fresh from the dryer, but the kind you feel in your bones.
"There’s no excuse for my being rude. I really appreciate your helping me out. But I feel like I should explain."
Max pulls his hand out of mine, shifting so he’s also somewhat sideways and staring right at me. "Okay."
"I have sort of an important job, maybe not to most, but to me and the families I work with." I fidget, tucking my hair behind my ears and blowing out a breath. "I worked really hard to get where I am, but I’ve been trying to expand the program, and it’s been a lot. Last week, I sorta had um…"
"Had what?" He urges me to continue.
"I had a panic attack." It was hard to admit it to Howie because I was embarrassed. Yet saying it out loud to Max, I don’t feel the same shame. It’s odd, maybe because we aren’t really friends, or he doesn’t know me that well.
"My boss made me take a leave of absence. He said I need to find balance in my life, learn to live, you know. It’s whatever, but I feel like I’m sort of spiraling out of control, and when you came in with the keys, having my car without my knowing.
I guess it felt like one more thing that was happening to me. "
This time, Max is the one grabbing my hand. When his fingers trace my palm, goosebumps erupt on my skin.
"I actually understand that more than you know. And I’m sorry too.
I really meant it to be a nice gesture, one that meant we could be friends.
But I see how it made you feel, and I apologize.
" There’s such sincerity in his voice. His words don’t seem calculated or manipulative—he seems genuinely good, and that in itself is foreign to me.
My dad abandoned us soon after I was born, and since then, trusting people hasn’t come easy. Couple that with being in the professional sports world where anyone and everyone wants to use you for something—I don’t make it a habit of letting people in.
"Can we call a truce?"
Max grins, still running his thumb over my palm. "Only if we can make a secret handshake while we do it."
"Nope. Nice knowing ya, Max." I push to stand, pulling my hands to my sides.
He follows suit, chuckling to himself. "Sadie, wait. Let me give you my number, just in case you need anything while you’re in town. You never know when you might need a friend."
"Ugh, fine. But are you always this… this—" I swirl my arm in the air toward him.
"Lovable? Hilarious? Devastatingly handsome?" He slides the screen open on his phone and opens a blank text message, then holds it out to me. "The answer is yes to all of the above. Now, please send yourself a message so you can store my number."
I take the phone, type out a quick hello, input my number, and hit send. My phone buzzes in my pocket as I hand his back to him.
"See ya around, Max."
I cross the street and head down the sidewalk toward the back of the bar.
"Did you kiss and make up?" Mal coos as I turn the corner and walk into the alley behind Union Tavern. She must have been spying as she’s pinned up against the edge of the brick.
"Has anyone ever told you that you’re insufferable?" I smile at her and roll my eyes.
"So I shouldn’t tell Seb that you chased after Max O’Reilly tonight?" My sister asks as if she’s forgotten all about the reason I followed him, that I had to apologize.
I scoff at her lightly. "Yeah, actually, did I forget to tell you we’re best friends now? Practically connected at the hip."
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye. "You know, I heard something about him recently." She pulls me close, slinging an arm around my shoulders. "He quit playing hockey."
"I know. There’s a thing called the Internet, have you heard of it?"
She points her finger at me. "You like him."
"I do not. He’s my friend, sorta."
She shakes her head and bounces on the balls of her feet, releasing me. "Nope, you think he’s cute. And don’t even act like you weren’t fantasizing about those hands. I saw you." She twirls on one foot, spinning in a circle toward my car, the same way Magnolia does when she’s excited.
"You should ask him to hang out."
"I’m not asking him a thing." I hold my hands up in surrender. "I’m just here to spend time with you, those sweet girls you have, and Mom." I hit the unlock button on my key fob.
Mal laughs. "Mmmk, we’ll see how long that lasts," she says, pulling the handle on my car door open and sliding in.
When I settle into the driver's seat, the car smells like him—I wish I hated it. "He’s Mage Hollow royalty, you know? You could do a lot worse than spending your summer with Max O’Reilly.
That family practically runs this town."
I put the key in the ignition and turn it. "Yeah, well, I’m busy. I’ve got Beth’s puzzle book, remember."
"Oh please, you’ll have that shit done in no time." She reaches across the center console and grabs my hand, but I shake her off. "What? You don’t want to hold my hand? You didn’t seem to have any problem holding Max’s."
A groan slips between my lips as I ease my car out of the alley and onto the street. We walked over, so this is a convenient surprise being able to drive back the six blocks. "It wasn’t like that, Mal. Drop it, please."
"No can do, sis. I have a photo of it and everything. Mom’s gonna lose her mind, and Seb… maybe I should make a bet with him over this."
I roll my eyes. "If you've ever asked yourself why I don’t visit more often—this is the reason."
"Sure. Did he give you his number?"
"He did. Not that I intend to use it."
Mal claps from the passenger seat, and I don’t know why, but it makes me giggle. She’s ridiculous, like an overjoyed mom whose daughter just got asked on a date with the prom king.
The truth is, I don’t plan to text him. The only exception would be if I need something and there’s literally no one else to call.
He’s nice, too funny for his own good, and charming as hell.
But I don’t have time for any of that. I only have time for solving Beth’s clues and finding a way to get back to work.
Unless… maybe he could help me solve the next one like he unknowingly did the first time.