Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Max
She plopped onto the couch, sprawled in a wicked come-on pose and completely guileless for a change. Her red tresses looked like fire against the cream leather, her red lips an invitation to sin.
“You deserve a glass of wine before I send you home.” Maybe she was the devil because I was succumbing to her temptation fast. It was only a damn glass of wine.
“Got anything stronger?”
I laughed. “Will Glenlivet work?” Shit. Send me to hell now.
“I’m not fussy. It’s strictly for medicinal purposes, of course.”
She tracked me as I went to the liquor cabinet at the opposite end of the open living area and poured two generous drinks. Don’t you need to get her a ride home?
Later. I would.
Sitting on the couch, I was careful not to sit close enough to touch, but not too far to be unfriendly.
Why do I feel like a tightrope walker? She took a sip of her drink and licked her lips.
I turned away and cleared my throat. Then I slugged half the tumbler of scotch down my throat to ease my sudden tension. As if it would help.
“Tell me the story of Natalie Singer,” I said, moving closer, feeling braver as the liquid fire trailed down my throat to my belly.
Or maybe I was being careless, touching along one side of her, comfortable, close, but not snuggling.
She didn’t mind a bit. My dick was ecstatic.
Keeping said dick in check, I reached out and moved a lock of hair from her face.
“Big question.” She nodded.
“Give me the long answer.” I didn’t say, because we have all night, but I had to acknowledge she might get the idea that was my implication.
“I might need another drink for that.” She drained her glass and I couldn’t help raising a brow.
“Coming right up,” I said and rose, taking her glass.
“Do me a favor, Red. Don’t get sloshed.” I wondered if she knew I had illicit motives for wanting her this side of sober.
But when she gave me that sex kitten smile, there was no question.
I went back to the bar to refill both our glasses, adding a couple of ice cubes even if it was sacrilegious.
She started talking then, like she was telling a story.
“I’m the oldest daughter in a family of three.
We’re from Revere, born and bred. When I was thirteen I started taking care of my two younger brothers while my mother .
. . deteriorated. She had MS. I took care of her too while my father slaved to earn enough to pay the bills.
It didn’t last long—my mother didn’t last long. ”
I returned to her and put the drinks on the cocktail table, then sat next to her and put my hands on her face. The shattered look in her eyes as she relived her sadness cracked my heart, gave rise to every protective instinct in me, gave rise to anger at the universe.
“I’m so, so sorry, Natalie.” I pulled her into my arms and she held me back. After a moment I let her go when she brushed her mouth across my jaw. My need to hear her entire story was surprisingly powerful.
“You’re remarkably strong, to have stepped up like that at a young age.”
She shrugged. “I got my tough skin and tough mouth from my dad and my soft heart from my mother and I needed both to raise my brothers. I still feel like they’re my responsibility even now, though Dad remarried a lovely woman that I had no right resenting.
” She picked up her glass and took a sip. I was relieved it was a moderate sip.
“Why?” I knew she knew what I was asking.
About her father’s wife and the resentment.
It was hard to imagine Natalie harboring anyone ill will, but I had a feeling this was a unique circumstance and all the sadness, anger, loss, and disillusionment with the world had been balled up and reserved for the unlucky target of this poor woman, whoever she was.
“My stepmother is young. She’s not my mother.” She shrugged and didn’t look the least bit apologetic. I let it go.
“Then I don’t blame you for resenting her. How dare she try to take your dad and brothers away from you? She could never replace your mother.” I was only half mocking because I knew the resentment in Natalie was too real.
She smiled, almost chuckled at that and shook a finger at me. “You’re a wise one—a real wise guy.” She sighed deeply. “I can see why the young guys on the team follow you around as if you were the pied piper or some cult leader with the answers to the universe.”
My laugh was automatic. “Nothing could be further from the truth.” But then I realized how young she was too, more like Sean and Brandon’s age than mine.
“How old are you, Natalie?” I knew Cat was only twenty-three and I held my breath waiting for the answer.
“I’m twenty-five.” She waved a hand, the one with the drink in it, and I caught her wrist before she spilled it.
“I started college late, after working a couple of years to earn money. My father insisted I go away to college because things were tense between me and his new wife. I didn’t react well to her invading the household.
My brothers were still young, still needed me, so I didn’t want to go.
But he thought distance would help my relationship with Lisa, the step-doll—my private term of endearment for her. ”
I shook my head. “Did it help?”
“It did and it didn’t. The tension left, but my soul still hurt for my mother.
” She turned away and shrugged. “At least my brothers thrived. Though that made me sad in a way too because being there for them had saved me in the beginning. Pathetic, huh?” She shrugged, looking way younger than twenty-five at the moment.
“Not in the least. You’ve been strong through a potentially debilitating tragedy.
I’m truly impressed.” And heartbroken. I wanted to scoop her up and mend her soul, but I knew it wasn’t something another person could do for her, that she had to come to peace on her own.
But still, the urge to be there for her burned in me in spite of the fact that my heart and life were already full of obligations and people to care for.
She ignored my praise and said, “I have my kindergarten class to console me, soothe my loneliness. Up until now.”
“What changed?” My pulse picked up and my gut clenched, anticipating her answer.
“I was a front-seat witness to Cat’s relationship with Hunter and their bliss.
I want some of that. It made me remember how Mom and Dad had been when I was young before Mom got sick.
Made me realize that’s how Dad is now with his new wife.
” She drained her glass and flung herself back against the couch, burrowing in.
“I can’t be mad at him. Not really. Not when he’d been so sad for too long, all through the long torture of my mother’s declined.
And now he’s not. I want some of that. Want the relief from sadness, someone to lighten my soul.
” She stared at me then, pinning me with her eyes, all the intense passion connecting to me like electrical pulses to my soul.
She whispered, “Is that too much to ask, Max?”
I shook my head and took her up on her invitation. Leaning in, I kissed her, wrapped her in my arms and gave her one of those no tomorrow kisses, deep and hard and long.
From that moment on, there was no question that she would stay the night. And no question that she’d stay in my bed. I’d worry about getting her home in the morning.