Chapter 15 So Much For Distance
So Much For Distance
Eli
Of course Drake would pull some shit like this.
I pace the greenhouse, jaw tight, fists tighter. Every step crunches against the old wooden planks that make up the floor, the sound grounding me even as my thoughts spin.
What the hell was I thinking? Taking her like that on the counter? If Drake hadn’t shown up when he did…
Fuck!
I stop and plant my hands on my hips, sucking in a breath as I look around.
The greenhouse has always been my refuge. Built from recycled materials—old steel, salvaged glass panels pulled from abandoned buildings, driftwood polished smooth by the river. It’s a living, breathing testament to second chances.
I designed it to work with the land, not against it. Geothermal piping runs beneath the soil, trapping heat from the earth and recycling it back through the beds. Solar panels feed a modest heating system I built myself, just enough to keep the frost at bay during Winter months.
Rows of vegetables stretch in neat lines: heirloom tomatoes, snap peas climbing their trellises, thick bunches of kale standing proud even in February.
Bright strawberries peek out from a raised bed near the entrance, stubborn and sweet.
Overhead, a simple irrigation system I rigged myself, drips water in slow, steady beats, like a heartbeat.
This place keeps me sane. Keeps me tied to something bigger than myself. Connected to the earth. To God. When the world tilts and threatens to swallow me whole, this is where I come to find peace.
And right now, it’s the only thing keeping me tethered to myself. Because everything inside me feels like a war zone when it comes to Maxine fucking Palmer.
She’s nothing like anyone I’ve ever met before.
Not in the way she talks.
Not in the way she laughs.
Not even in the way she looks at me—like she sees past the man I present and straight into the parts I keep locked away.
And that’s exactly why this plan is the exact opposite of what I need.
This isn’t about resisting her anymore. It’s not even about wanting her.
It’s about what always follows. The inevitable fall.
The way I’ll give her something that feels rare and consuming and unforgettable.
And then the way she’ll leave—back to her city, her life—like this was just a chapter she passed through.
It’s the pattern I’ve built myself around. The one I know how to survive. But I’m not sure I’d survive the storm that is Maxine Palmer. That’s why I need to keep her at a distance. Why I should.
Because I don’t think I could take her leaving. Not the way I’ve taken the others. And for the life of me, I still can’t explain what it is about her that keeps calling me toward something more.
I need her presence to make sense to me.
The way her mind works.
The way her breathing shifts when she’s irritated.
The way she masks her vulnerability behind that smart mouth and quick wit.
I want time with her. Permanence where I’ve only ever allowed passing—
Fuck. This. Shit.
I slam my hand against the greenhouse frame and squeeze my eyes shut, like I can shake her loose. Like I can force her out of my bloodstream.
Nothing seems to be working when it comes to her.
And fuck me if Drake isn’t right with his insane idea.
Using Max could give us a real edge against the competition.
Against Vanessa. I hate how clearly I can see it once it’s said out loud.
I just wish there were a way to do it without pulling her deeper into my orbit.
Without dragging her closer when she’s already lodged in my head where she has no business being after twenty four hours.
“Fine,” I mutter to no one, dragging a hand through my hair. “I’ll go along with this idiotic plan. But I am not letting her get under my skin. Not any further.”
Which means no blurred lines. No misunderstandings. Distance.
She’s everything I swore I’d never reach for again. Fire. Bright. Dangerous. Intoxicating right up until the moment it destroys you.
Thankfully, fire lives a world away.
And then, because the universe has a sick sense of humor and zero mercy, fire appears.
Max stands at the top of the trail, sunlight spilling around her like it was staged that way on purpose. She’s walking toward me, shoulders drawn in, clearly shivering in the cold. Americans never dress for February up here.
The internal resolve I just made melts in seconds. Because the moment I see her, all I want to do is wrap her in my heat. I want to shield her from the cold air, pulling her close just to feel her breathing against my skin as I take her in.
So much for distance.
The light hits her just right, making the flannel she’s still wearing look softer, her curls brighter.
“What are you doing here, Max?” I ask, my voice low, rougher than I mean it to be.
She crosses her arms. “Drake told me where to find you.”
“Figures.” I grunt, turning back toward the workbench where a row of strawberries is waiting to be sorted.
I grab a handful and busy myself, inspecting them like they’re made of gold. Anything to avoid her eyes. Anything to keep my hands from doing something stupid.
“If you really don’t want me to stay, I don’t have to,” she says.
Something about the way she says it—so damn resolute, so damn final—hits me wrong.
I. Am. Losing. It.
I’m losing it because I woke up in a rush to get her back to her rental and out of my house, but the second the decision is hers to leave, it feels like she’s taking something away from me.
“It’s fine, Max,” I say, still not looking at her.
“Drake’s idea makes sense. I’ve called the tow truck and handled your rental car situation.
It will be taken back to the airport. But I.
..” I pause, clenching my jaw. Fuck it. Say it.
“I just think it would be best if you stayed at a hotel near the office. Where—”
“Where I’m not anywhere near you?” she cuts in, voice sharp, wounded.
“Not like that—”
“It’s fine, Eli,” she snaps, lifting her chin.
“Your hot and cold, broody bullshit is more than I bargained for. It was fun to play lost-in-the-woods and pretend like something was happening here. But playtime’s over.
I get it. You don’t want me here and neither of us can afford anything messy right now, right? ”
“Max—”
She turns on her heel and starts marching out of the greenhouse. I toss the strawberries back onto the workbench and storm after her.
“Look,” she says, throwing her hands up when she hears me close behind. “I’ll call a rideshare to take me to a hotel and get out of your hair. I don't need to stay where I’m not wanted.”
“Would you fucking shut up and listen to me for a second?” I bark, my voice tearing through the silence so loud and raw it startles a flock of birds from a nearby tree.
They shoot into the sky like a black cloud, wings flapping in frantic protest, but I don’t even blink.
All I can see—
All I can feel—
Is her.
She whips around, fire blazing in her eyes, and for half a second I brace myself for impact. Like she might actually swing on me. And honestly? I’d deserve it.
She’s furious. Hurt. Still wearing my fucking flannel over one of her shirts. And the sight of it nearly tears me apart.
She’s beautiful. And looks like she belongs to me.
“What, Eli?” she snaps, her chest rising fast. “You’ve made it crystal clear you don’t want me here!”
That’s the lie I can’t let sit between us.
Because I don’t want her to feel rejected. Not like that. This is on me. None of it has anything to do with her.
She keeps talking, the words coming hard and fast, anger sparking off her like live wire. And I know if I let her finish, if I let her stand there and really look at me, she’ll see it.
The want. The fear. The way I’m barely holding the line I just swore to myself I wouldn’t cross.
I can’t let her see that.
I can’t let my war become hers.
So I do the only thing I know that will stop it.
Stop everything.
Shut her up.
“Eli—” she starts again.
But I don’t let her finish. “Shut up, Max. Would you just shut your mouth for a fucking minute?”
I fist the back of her neck and pull her to me, crashing my mouth over hers in a kiss that’s all heat and restraint colliding at the same fucking time.
It’s not gentle. Not careful. It’s a kiss meant to silence her before she sees too much.
Fucking smart mouth ass, stubborn ass, Max.
When I tear my mouth from hers, I hold her face steady, locking her in place with my glare.
“Tell me,” I growl, my breath ragged against her lips, “does this fucking feel like I don’t want you here?”
She hiccups.
I kiss her again. “Good. I’m glad we have an understanding.”