Chapter 14 Max
MAX
Each day, we cross more and more things off Lacey’s must-do list for the cabin.
The place is looking better and better. Two more weeks pass with us working together consistently, and Lacey doesn’t bring up the website thing again. In fact, she doesn’t even go near the woodworking sales topic, except to ask questions about the process.
She has, however, started working remotely again. She’s important enough that Gaia couldn’t go that long with her on vacation, and I noticed the shift in her immediately.
Now, she’s standing at the top of a ladder — because she’s insisted on being the one to string up the outdoor lights, even though I offered to do it three times, and even though she’s wearing a dress, of all things — and ranting about her first day back, angrily sticking up the weather-proof hooks against the side of the cabin.
Yesterday, I convinced her that fixing up the outside of the cabin was as important as doing the inside. It made her list a bit longer.
As she talks, I pointedly force myself to avoid accidentally glancing up her skirt.
“It’s just, like, why we need three more soundtracks is completely beyond me. I mean, everyone knows the extras are out to get money, but at a certain point, it feels slimy, you know?”
I don’t, really. She’s explained to me that people can buy different things in the game — skins and music, dance moves and little charms to hang from their belts — but I don’t really get why anyone would spend money on that. If the game is free, then why spend money on it?
Today, Lacey is wearing a soft green overall dress. As if the skirt element wasn’t bad enough, the thing ties at the top of her shoulders. I’ve thought about reaching over and undoing the ties more times than I care to admit.
But right now, the only thing I’m thinking about is how her anger is making her jerky, so I hold the ladder tighter. It’s not like it would kill her to fall, but the porch drops off into the water, and I have no idea if she even knows how to swim.
Plus, the water is probably pretty fucking cold.
“Keep a hold on the top, there—”
“I am,” she says, waving her hand at me, and not getting the irony of that. Accepting another hook, she sticks it on and strings up the light before climbing down so I can reposition the ladder again.
“And Steven keeps pushing about the design on Sydney Caliper. I’ve already told him three times that our game is kid-friendly, and we can’t make one of the skins with her tour outfit, no matter how many times he insists it’s how the fans would want it.”
I have no idea who the pop star is that she’s talking about, or what her outfits look like, but I grunt sympathetically and wince when she climbs angrily back up the ladder.
“Maybe you should let me do the lights,” I say again, to which she answers, again, “Max, you do everything. Let me at least participate.”
Her saying my name like that jolts me a little, but I wordlessly hand her another hook, which she sticks up roughly.
The porch is looking better, with a new set of furniture from me and a potted plant that should survive through the seasons. We’re connecting the string lights to a smart home system Lacey has insisted the renters are going to want, so they’ll turn on when it gets dark out.
“Do you think it would be cool to put a hot tub out here?” she asked, when we were brainstorming ideas, standing on the deck together in the dark.
I’d wanted to say yes, just so the two of us would have an excuse to test it out.
“Plus, I knew I shouldn’t have gone on vacation.
All the bug reports are completely behind now.
It’s like they all knew they could get away with pushing it off until I came back, but they didn’t know Gina was going to beg me to come back sooner, even though I have enough PTO built up to be off for an entire year. ”
“Lacey,” I say, watching as she reaches a little too far to string up the lights in the corner. “The only time I’ve ever heard you talk like this is about your job.”
“What?” She scoffs, then waves her hand, shaking her head and quickly running her palm over her hair, which is tied back in two braids today. “No— it’s just— everyone complains about work. I love my job. Anyone would be happy to be in this position.”
“Yeah,” I say, “except you.”
That’s when she tries to twist on the ladder, clearly wanting to glare down at me, but she’s not holding on at the top and loses her grip.
I’ve been waiting for this moment, and I’m ready to catch her, moving to the side and bracing myself for the impact.
She lands in my arms with an oof, and the ladder clatters down on the other side, hitting the railing, which doesn’t so much as creak under the impact.
Jasper clearly built it to survive out here.
“Holy shit,” Lacey says, having instinctively wrapped her arms around my neck. I feel her fingers brush against the hair at the nape of my neck and stifle the shiver that threatens to run up my spine in response. “You caught me.”
I glare at her. “I told you to hold on.”
“You caught me like Superman or something. Max, that was crazy!”
I have to set her down, or I’m going to kiss her. She’s staring up at me with this open, grateful expression, like anyone with eyes wouldn’t have known she was about to fall from that ladder. All I did was pay attention to her and act in time to keep her from getting hurt.
“Ow, ow,” she says, the moment I try to set her down, watching as she favors her left ankle.
So much for her not getting hurt.
“Shit,” she hisses, reaching down to touch it. “I must have twisted it when I fell. Can you help me to the couch?”
Theoretically, I could provide support with her leaning against me, helping her limp inside, but I liked having her in my arms, so I scoop her up again, ignoring the double-beat of my heart when she rests her head against my chest.
She’s warm, and she smells like roses, and I’m deranged enough that I can’t stop thinking about pulling on those fucking braids.
Instead of giving in to those feelings, I say, “You should have been more careful.”
Lacey scoffs as I set her down. “You were pushing!”
“Pushing?” I ask, crossing my arms and staring down at her. She yanks a pillow and settles her ankle on it, then glares at me.
How quickly I’ve shifted from being adored like Superman to being scolded like I forgot to take the trash out.
“Yes, pushing,” she says, crossing her own arms in response. “I didn’t push on your weird thing.”
That makes me laugh, and I turn, heading to the kitchen for ice, saying over my shoulder, “My weird thing?”
“Yes!” she uncrosses her arms and throws her hands in the air as I turn the corner, and she calls back, “Don’t act like you don’t know!”
“No idea,” I say, returning with an ice pack from the freezer, kneeling down beside the couch and settling the compress over her ankle. She glowers at me, and I resist the urge to press the pad of my thumb to the wrinkle between her eyes.
“The whole, scared of the internet thing.”
That is not what I was expecting her to say. “What?” I pull my head back. “I’m not scared of the internet.”
“Yes, you are! Unless you’re on the run from the cops, you’re scared of online stuff. It’s the only thing that makes sense—”
“I’m not scared of the internet,” I growl, leaning toward her, dropping my voice, and admitting something out loud that I’ve never said to another person. “I’m just not interested in trying again and getting another door slammed in my face.”
Lacey stares at me, breathing hard, and I realize my hand is planted on the couch, making her slide toward me. Holding her gaze, almost like I can’t stop myself, I slide my hand up over her hip, watching as the breath catches in her throat.
We’ve been doing this — dancing around the truth of the energy between us — for a long fucking time. She feels it, too. I can see it in the flash of her eyes, the quickening of her breath.
My face is hot. In fact, everything is hot. My cock is already hard against the couch, and when my gaze drops to her lips, she tips her head toward me infinitesimally.
It’s been like this for the past three weeks with her here, working to renovate this cabin, side by side every day, not pointing out the obvious fact that I’m here because I like her. I like spending time with her.
And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this.
The moment is like a rubber band finally snapping, bringing us together with lips and breath and teeth — hers, specifically, nipping at my bottom lip, which draws a low groan from my throat.
Somewhere, in the back of my head, there’s a voice arguing that I’m letting this happen now, after so long of fighting it, because I don’t want to say more about the whole trying again thing.
Even though I know I can’t do casual, and she’s leaving, and all this is going to do is make me feel crazier.
Sleeping with her now, getting to touch her, it’s only going to make things a million times worse when she eventually goes back to California and some family of five takes her place in this cabin.
I drag my mouth over her jaw, down to her chin, and kiss that soft spot just above her throat that I’ve been dreaming about for weeks, so I both hear and feel her gasping my name.
That’s when I know it’s over for me; that responsible voice in my head is locked away, and this time, I’m going to give in to what I want.
Even if it means getting hurt in the end.