Revved to the Maxx (Reynold's Restorations 1) - Page 38

I chuckled. “I’m going to try. He is certainly old-fashioned in some respects.”

“Some things you will never be able to change.” She met my eyes, hers serious. “Some, I would hate to see go.”

I knew what she meant. His courtesy, and the manners he had when he wasn’t growling at me. The way he dealt with people. He was kind and thoughtful. Under the right circumstances, tender. I had certainly experienced that part of him. Those traits were rare and special. I wouldn’t want to change that part of him at all.

“Did she do that?” I asked hesitantly. “Try to change him?”

Her nod and the swinging of her foot were the only affirmation I needed. I returned her gaze, not needing to speak. We understood each other.

We sat in companionable silence, enjoying the quiet.

“I suppose I should get going,” I said regretfully just as the sound of a rumbling engine broke the stillness.

Maxx’s truck pulled into the driveway, his face like thunder behind the wheel.

“Uh oh,” I muttered. “The bear is back.”

He got out of the truck, slamming the door. He stalked up to the steps, looking at us without saying a word.

“Maxx,” Mary greeted him. “Something on your mind?”

He ran a hand through his hair. By now, I realized it was one of his tells when he was upset and about to tell me off.

“Nope,” he said shortly.

“You were just driving by?” Mary asked, amusement lacing her voice.

“Something like that.”

“I was about to drive Charly home.”

“I’ll save you the trip and take her. You ready, Charly?” he asked, his voice telling me, no matter what, I was ready. Now.

I stood. “Yep.” I turned and hugged Mary. “Thanks for the girls’ night.”

“We should do this every week,” Mary insisted.

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll call you.”

“Oh, interesting,” Maxx said in a snarky tone. “You can call her.” He stomped to the truck. “I’m waiting.”

I exchanged glances with Mary, slightly shrugging my shoulders.

I climbed into the truck, the wine making me a little uncoordinated. Maxx watched me, not helping, a scowl on his face.

He backed out of the driveway quickly, before I could even put my seat belt on. He didn’t say a word, but I felt his anger rolling off of him. He turned into his driveway, pulling up in front of the house and braking hard. He slammed out of the truck, walking toward the house. Feeling angry now myself, I followed him.

“Crap on a cracker, what is your problem?” I shouted, chasing him into the house.

He whirled around. “My problem? My problem? You have a serious lack of communication skills, Charly.”

“What are you on about?”

“I come in and find you gone. Your bag is here, your laptop on the table. No sign of you. Dinner is in the oven, so I figured you went to your room, but you never showed up to eat—even later. So, I went looking for you, but you weren’t there. I had no fucking idea where you were. No way to call you since your phone was in your bag!” By the end of his diatribe, he was yelling. “I had no idea where you were!”

I stepped back at his vehemence. “I’m sorry. I went for a walk, and Mary picked me up. We were talking and enjoying each other’s company, and she invited me to dinner. I-I never thought… I mean, it didn’t occur to me you would even…” I trailed off.

“You were worried?” I asked. “Really?”

He sighed, his voice losing some of its edge. “Of course I was worried. I’ve been searching for you all over the fields. I called Mary and she never answered, so I drove over to ask if she’d seen you.” He tugged on his hair again, the anger returning. “And there you were, laughing, eating, and having fun. Not the remotest bit concerned about anything else. Not the fact that I might have wondered where you were or been looking for you!”

“Why would I think that? I had no clue you’d even notice I was gone!” I responded, throwing up my hands.

“That’s the problem, isn’t it,” he snarled. “You. Have. No. Fucking. Clue.”

And then he was kissing me. He yanked me tight to his chest, and I flung my arms around his neck. He growled low and deep in his chest, lifting me into his arms, his lips never leaving mine. He carried me up the stairs, tossing me on the bed.

“Let’s get something straight,” he hissed, pulling off his shirt. “You tell me before you leave this property again, you understand?”

I whimpered at the sight of his muscled torso.

“I don’t want you chatting to the male customers. You leave them to me.” He kicked off his shitkickers and dragged his jeans down his legs. “I make the prices, you got that? I have the final decision on everything.”

Tags: Melanie Moreland Reynold's Restorations Suspense
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