Chapter 8
Maxie
I kicked the washing machine in frustration.
I was pretty sure this thing was from when I went to college. It just buzzed at me and refused to unlock, trapping my favorite jeans in their depths.
My ass buzzed. I slipped out my phone to see that Cam was on his way. I quickly texted back to bring his tools.
As per usual.
I hadn’t even married him yet and I was depending on him left and right lately. While the phone was in my hand, it rang. My mother’s name on the screen.
I sighed and hit accept. “Hi, Mother.”
“Did you sell any other pieces yet?”
“How are you? I’m fine.”
She sighed. “Don’t get cute with me, Maxine.”
I tucked the phone into my shoulder as I walked down the hall to my room. “Mom, you have plenty of money to cover you. It’s only been a few weeks.”
“I’m accustomed to a certain lifestyle.”
I put the phone on speaker and threw it on my bed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I need that money. I have a business opportunity, but it requires capital.”
“Since when did you do anything in business?”
“I’m not as stupid and useless as you think I am.”
I crossed my eyes and tipped my head back, counting to ten. “I never said that.”
“Benny and I want to open a boutique in Saratoga. I need capital.”
“The married Benny?”
“Separated. But I have feelers out for a husband.”
“Feelers? It’s not like buying a house, Mom.”
“No, but if I have to marry an idiot to get that trust fund I will.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I sold one of the armoires and a painting. I can put fifteen thousand in your account tomorrow.”
“Fine. That’s not enough, but it will cover my rent this month.”
“Mom, you didn’t go through all your money already, did you?”
There was a pause. “That’s none of your business. I needed to go to Paris with Benny.”
“What? When?”
While I’d been in this money pit of a house, she’d been living it up in Paris?
I slumped onto the edge of my bed. The tears that came pissed me off.
Frustrated and overwhelmed, I growled. “You know what? Never mind. I don’t want to know.
I gotta go.” I hit end, annoyed at the thick lump in my throat.
I heard the clomp of Cam’s boots on the stairs. I sat up and swiped at my cheeks.
He was holding his big toolbox. His hair was still wet from his shower and a few snow crystals dusted his shoulders.
“Is it snowing?”
“Just a little. What’s wrong?” He set the box down and crossed to me.
“Nothing.”
“Then why are you crying?”
“I’m not.” I pushed past him. “Can you look at my washer? It ate my jeans.”
“Hey.” He snagged my hand before I could get out of the room. He pulled me into a hug.
I stiffened in his arms. “Don’t.”
His big hand smoothed down my hair. “Maxie, you can talk to me.”
“You’re not my keeper.” I pulled out of his arms and practically ran out of the room and down the hall.
“Is there a reason you want to pick a fight?” He asked from the hall.
I slapped at the buttons on the washer, and it just kept buzzing.
“Hey.” He pulled me away from the stupid washer. “That’s not going to help.”
I tried to push at his chest, but he just held me firm. Not into a hug this time, simply close. The stone in my chest got bigger. Until it was weighing me down. I put my hands on his chest and rested my forehead just under his neck.
He looped his arm around me, then smoothed my hair with his free hand.
“My mom called looking for money.”
“Ahh.”
“Yeah. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do. I don’t want to keep selling off pieces of this place to fund her shopping habit. It’s going to take all the charm out of it for the B&B.”
“And you don’t have to. You’re the caretaker.”
“You don’t know her.”
“You can just say no.”
“Right.” I lifted my head to bury it into his neck. His familiar sawdust and spice scent helping to ease the ache in my chest.
“Okay, let me see if I can rescue these pants.”
I laughed. “Thanks. I’m sorry I keep asking you to fix stuff.”
“It’s what husbands do, I hear.”
“You’re not my husband.”
“Yet.” He let me go and retrieved his toolbox. “Speaking of that.” He started messing with the dials before pulling it out from the wall.
My stomach jittered. Was he going to back out? Not that I’d blame him. My life was a shitshow. Orgasms could only take us so far in this insane plan.
“I talked to my mom.”
“What?” Dumbfounded, my mouth went dry.
He looked over his shoulder. “It’s not a secret right? That’s the deal.”
“I know, but...” I blew out a breath. “What did she say? Run for the hills, son!”
He laughed. “Actually, she said we can have the wedding at the farmhouse. Evidently my brother Gus is ordained or some such shit. He can do the officiating. So, if you’re done with the other contract for me to sign, we’re good to go.”
The rock in my chest got so big I couldn’t breathe. I bent at the waist.
“Maxie.” He crouched beside me. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“Why are you being so wonderful?”
He laughed. “We have a plan, right?”
“Yes, but. I’m just such a mess and this plan is absolutely ridiculous. You should run far away from me and my terrible mother.”
He lowered to the floor, sitting cross-legged, then pulled me into his lap.
“None of this is going to get done in a hurry. This is an old house with lots of issues. But handily, you have a guy like me who loves big projects. And some very adept brothers.” He stroked down my hair.
“And I was actually thinking about it. This might be too big of a project for my very busy brothers.”
I sniffled. Of course, it was. “I understand.”
“What I mean is I’ll help you find some good guys who renovate old homes. I have some contacts from my furniture work. You’re not in this alone. I promise.”
I’d never been anything other than alone.
“Why on earth would you hitch yourself to me? The furniture you earmarked is not worth my mess.”
“I don’t care about the furniture. I mean, I love it, but the restoration part is what I love. Bringing this place to life with you is almost a big enough draw.”
“Almost?” I eased back enough to look him in the eyes.
He brushed a few tears that leaked out away with his thumb. “The rest is you. Pretty sure it’s always been you, Maxie. You, standing in the middle of this place with those big green eyes, it was like something clicked into place when I saw you.”
“Lust at first sight for my furniture?”
“Love at first sight for the girl who was always supposed to be mine.”
“You’re nuts.” I scrambled out of his lap. “You can’t love me.”
He stood up slowly. “Pretty sure I’m the only one who can say that for sure.”
“You’re just having a hero moment. Or whatever it is.”
“I’m no hero. I’m just a guy. I’m going to annoy the shit out of you because I get wrapped up in renovations or furniture restorations and forget to come up for air.
So...” He stepped forward and slipped his arm around my waist. “You’re going to have to remind me that I have a beautiful, vibrant wife waiting for me at home sometimes. ”
“You’re crazy.”
“Probably. But mostly just crazy about you.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Corny too.”
“I wasn’t corny when I did that thing with my tongue.”
I shivered.
“Think I should do it again?” He hoisted me up and strode down the hall to my—our—bedroom. He pushed the load of laundry over onto the bench and stretched me out on the mattress.
We both fumbled with our clothes, shoes thudding to the floor. I dragged his shirt over his head and trailed my fingers over all the hard planes of his chest and down to his buckle. When I got him in hand, he hissed.
I rolled him onto his back and skimmed my lips down to where he was hard and hot for me. “What about that thing I do with my tongue?”
He groaned and brushed his knuckles over my cheek. “Honey, you can do whatever you want to me.”
I twirled my tongue around the underside of his head, and he drew in a deep breath. Then I took as much as I could.
“Fuck!”
I hummed around him with a sigh. This, I understood.
We were in the hot and heavy phase. That was all. It couldn’t last forever.
Could it?
Then I shut everything off and just focused on making him groan and sigh out my name before I crawled on top of him to take him deep. His eyes widened as he drove into me bare.
I caged him in. “I’m protected, husband-to-be.” I rolled my hips and took him deeper. The heat of him pushing the doubts away for now.
But a tiny part of me wondered what a baby of ours would look like.
A mix of us. My eyes and his light hair. My skin and his features.
My hips moved faster as the idea of it added to the friction between us.
He rolled me onto my back and slammed into me. His caramel eyes lit with something I didn’t want to name.
Could he really love me already?
Then he lowered his mouth to mine and fused us together in every way.
I dragged my nails down his back to his ass to pump signal for him to drive harder.
And when I came, the words were at the tip of my tongue.
They’d be so easy to say.
But I bit them back.
It was too soon. My arms held him tighter as I crested again and felt the warmth of him inside of me.
I held him tighter as he shuddered over me.
I didn’t want to let go.