Chapter 5 #3
Max giggled, a light, breezy sound Annie instantly became obsessed with.
“Oh, shut up and enjoy your wine,” she said, looking down the bar before glancing back at Annie.
“I, uh, I need to take care of a few things… Holler if you need a refill…or…anything.” Annie knew Max had spent way more time with her than her job required, knew she was taking Max away from other work, but still, she couldn’t help the small twinge of sadness knowing Max had other things she needed to be doing.
“Don’t worry, I will,” she said, bringing the glass to her lips once more as Max pushed off the bar and away from her.
Annie sipped her wine, tracking Max’s movements exactly as she had done all afternoon, averting her gaze each time Max caught her.
It was easy to see that Max was good at her job.
She was charming, poised, and articulate—her passion for wine on full display.
Annie had always been a sucker for a woman with a passion.
“Here, I need you to eat this,” Max said, setting a prepackaged cheese board in front of her two minutes before the winery was due to close.
“You’ve had four glasses of wine since you’ve been here, and I haven’t seen you eat a single thing.
I can’t in good conscience let you drive right now, so eat this while I close up, and then we’ll see how you’re doing. ”
She looked from Max to the cheese plate back to Max, her protest ready as she got to her feet, but a poorly timed wobble had her struggling, unfortunately proving Max’s point.
“Told you I tend to be right about most things. Plus, hanging out for a little longer will be fun. I promise.”
Annie grumbled a half-protest as she reached for the cheeseboard, unwrapping its contents. Fine. Maybe Max was right, and maybe she was actually a little hungry.
Another winery employee plopped two racks of freshly washed wine glasses on a stand next to Max as she reached for a clean cloth and began wiping them one by one, ensuring that not a single water spot survived her scrutiny.
“You’re a hard worker,” Annie said, offering up her earlier observation.
Max glanced at her, then back to the glass in her hand. “I know I am.”
“No, I meant it as a compliment,” Annie tried to correct, catching the grin unfurling across Max’s lips.
“I know you did. I’m messing with you. It’s so easy to push your buttons.”
Okay, one: Annie didn’t have pushable buttons, and two: She had officially confirmed that Max was a tease.
“You think you know my buttons?”
“Oh, I think I have a pretty good read on you, Dillinger.” Max reached out, grabbed another glass, and ran the microfiber cloth over the shiny surface.
“Do share,” Annie encouraged, popping a cracker and a piece of cheese into her mouth, crunching down.
Max studied her almost like she was sizing Annie up, but all Annie felt was the lure of Max’s gaze over her body. “Okay, but remember you asked.” She hummed, tapping her chin. “Where do I start?”
“The beginning has always worked the best for me.”
Max grinned. “Your snark is showing.”
“Just reflecting what you’re giving,” Annie shot back, matching Max’s smile.
Max didn’t placate her with an answer, but the slight tinge of pink sitting high on her cheeks told Annie she was enjoying their banter. “Okay, my honest first read of you was that you were a privileged trophy wife to some rich, old, Republican white man.”
Annie’s jaw dropped slightly with outrage. “Uh, you—you thought I was a Republican?” she started.
“Really? That’s your takeaway?”
“I mean, yeah. The privileged part is true. And I have no problem with age gap relationships regardless of sexual orientation. So that leaves the Republican portion of your assessment for me to take issue with.”
Max raised a challenging eyebrow. “Who did you vote for in the last election?”
Annie piled another cracker with cheese and an apple slice, biting into it to buy herself a moment to find her courage. “I may have forgotten to vote,” she said quietly, a slight twinge of embarrassment creeping into her words.
“Like I said…”
“What? No, c’mon, that’s not fair.”
“Who did your parents vote for?”
Annie’s cheeks turned pink. “Fine. I accept defeat. But while my parents may be Republican, I am not. Obviously, I’m not.”
Max raised an eyebrow, laughing, as a clattering drew their attention across the tasting room where they watched one of the other staff members struggle. “Shit, I should go help.”
It was another fifteen minutes until Max returned to the bar, this time with a leather messenger bag slung over her shoulder.
“Ready to go?” she asked, giving Annie an unexpectedly expectant look.
“Go where?”
“I’m driving you home.” Max smiled, jingling her keys in her hand.
“I’m fine to drive, really,” Annie argued, touching her fingertips to her nose.
“I’d feel better about your safety if I drove you. I don’t mind, I’m heading back towards town anyway.”
“You’re really not going to let me drive myself home?”
“I take patron safety extremely seriously.” Max’s expression was straight-faced, but Annie caught the flash of amusement in her clear blue eyes.
“Fine,” she groaned, following Max out of the building and across the parking lot where a navy blue Volvo station wagon sat parked.
“Annie, meet Maggie, my chariot. She’s not a looker, but she gets me where I need to go.”
Annie didn’t know whether to laugh or not; she didn’t know Max well enough to decipher her humor. “You named your car?”
“Yes. Is yours rawdogging life without a name?’
“It’s a car, Max.”
“And?”
Annie laughed as she slid into the passenger seat, surprised by how meticulously clean she kept it—a stark contrast to Annie’s car’s current state. Shit. Text Andrew about picking up the car tomorrow, she reminded herself.
“Where to?” Max asked, turning the key, bringing the engine to life.
“You know the old saw mill, the one on Jacob’s Lane right outside of town?”
“Yup.”
“My parents live in that big blue house at the end of the road.”
Max grinned but didn’t say anything as she moved the car into reverse, backing out of her spot.
“Stop it,” Annie whined playfully, knowing exactly why Max was smiling. “I owned the privileged part of your assessment.”
“You did own it. I’m willing to give credit where credit is due.”
The remainder of the car ride passed comfortably, much more comfortably than Annie anticipated. But then again, nothing surrounding Max had been what she had expected.
Admittedly, Annie’s first impression of Max that day on the golf course was that she was kind of a jerk. But every time their paths had crossed in the last few weeks, that initial picture had grown fuzzier, leaving Annie back at square one, trying to understand who exactly Max Martin was.
Twenty minutes later, Max guided the car into the driveway of her parents’ house, but Annie didn’t quite feel ready to leave the comfort of the vehicle. Not counting the awkward wine tasting with her friends, today had been one of the best days Annie had had in a long time.
“Thanks again for the ride home. I really could have driven myself.”
“I disagree.”
Annie rolled her eyes, a bold idea popping into her head.
“Here, give me your phone.” She held out her hand, Max looking at her with a puzzled expression before reaching into the back pocket of her jeans, unlocking the device, and handing it over.
Annie sent a text message to herself, ensuring that she now had Max’s number and Max had hers.
“Since we keep running into each other, maybe we could do it on purpose for once?” Her voice softened with vulnerability.
“I really enjoyed hanging out with you this afternoon. Today was the first day in a really long time where I felt like myself again,” she said slowly, almost embarrassed by the small cracks in her voice.
Max tilted her head. “See. I told you it gets easier. Every day that passes, it gets easier and easier to feel like a normal person again and forget that bitch ever existed. And I say bitch in a mean way, because like I told you, I’m automatically on your side of the breakup.”
Annie grinned sheepishly, hands twisting in her lap, turning in her seat to look at Max. “That’s brave of you. For all you know, I could be a raging asshole who deserved everything she got.”
“I doubt that,” Max said simply with a sweet smile. “I think there’s more to you than meets the eye, Annie Dillinger.”
A long moment passed between them, one where Annie contemplated an appropriate way to respond to Max’s statement that didn’t make her sound like a bumbling idiot.
Instead, she landed on an awkward goodbye via the unfortunate combination of a half-bye, half-grunt as she hoisted herself out of the passenger seat.
“Thanks again for the ride,” she said, gently closing the door and making her way up the front steps towards the large glass-paneled front door, turning to wave at Max as she backed out of the driveway.