“You’ll handle it,” he says, his voice strong with confidence. He stands and pulls me up to my feet. “Should we head back?”
“Yes. It’ll start to get dark soon, and I promised you some hot tub sittin’.”
“Naked hot tub sitting,” he reminds me as we gather our poles and supplies. “And I’m collecting, sweetheart.”
“I should hope so.”
***
“So, what are you doing?” Max asks on the phone an hour later. I’d missed three texts and two calls from him, all of which came through once we found a cell signal, as there isn’t one inside the park.
“We’re driving back to town from the park property,” I reply.
“Did you show Christian?”
“Yep.”
“Are you heading home or up to the tree house?”
I frown and glance at Christian, who just shrugs as if to say no clue.
“I was going back up to the tree house, but do you need something?”
“Can you swing by my place?” he asks.
Max has a house on the lake, and it’s on our way back to the tree house.
“Sure, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”
“See you soon.”
I hang up and then shrug. “Sorry for the detour.”
“No problem, the hot tub will still be there,” Christian replies, takes my hand in his, pulls it up to his lips, and plants a wet kiss on my knuckles. “He sounded…concerned.”
“He did,” I agree, wondering what’s up.
The roads into town are clear, so it doesn’t take long before we arrive at Max’s house on the lake. His home is big, probably closer to what Christian is used to. And Max bought it for similar reasons.
Investment.
Because God knows that one man doesn’t need a ten-thousand-square-foot house.
“Wow,” Christian says with surprise. “I figured it would be nice, but this is really nice.”
“He’s wealthier than even you,” I say and laugh when Christian narrows his eyes at me. “Well, he is. So, yeah. Investment.”
“I get it,” he says as he follows me to the grand front door that has an evergreen tree carved into it.
I don’t even have time to ring the bell when Max opens the door. His dark hair is disheveled. He’s in sweats and a ratty old sweatshirt.
“You look like shit,” I say as I walk into his house, shed my coat, and hang it on a hook by the door.
“Thanks,” he says grimly and leads us into his kitchen.
“I’m sorry to intrude,” Christian begins, but Max waves him off.
“You’re not. It’s cool.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ll show you,” he says and gestures for us to follow him down to the basement.
I can smell it halfway down.
“Well, shit.”
Max laughs humorlessly. “Not funny.”
“Your sewer is backed up. Did you call someone?”
“Yeah, I called you.”
I sigh and glance back at Christian. “We’re going back upstairs. This is disgusting.”
“You can’t leave,” Max says, and I just laugh.
“I’m not leaving, I’m going to make some calls where it doesn’t smell like I’m swimming in a sewer.”
I settle at Max’s massive kitchen island and make my way through my phone.
“No one is open on Sunday,” I murmur, then remember that a friend of mine owes me a favor. “Wait. I know someone.”
Five minutes later, I have Fred on his way over to take a look.
“I pretty much just saved the day. But why didn’t you just make some calls? Rather than to me?”
“I didn’t know who to call,” he says with a scowl. “You’re the one who does the construction stuff. I design software.”
“And run an empire,” I add, then lean in and kiss his cheek. “Fred will fix it.”
“Thank God. It’s fucking gross.” He glances over to Christian. “What did you think of the park property?”
“It’s ridiculous,” Christian says, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“It’ll be better once she works her magic on it.” He points his thumb at me and then winks. “She’s good for something.”
“I’m good for lots of things, I’ll have you know.” I push my nose into the air like I’m offended and march in the direction of my coat. “Now, we’re going up to the tree house where we plan to spend some naked time in the hot tub.”
“That’s way more information than I ever need.”
“You deserved it.”
Chapter Thirteen
~Jenna~
“YOU GUYS LOOK AMAZING,” I say the following evening as the girls and I sip wine and open our presents to each other.
“I love the tiaras you got us,” Willa says with a giggle, touching the pretty crown on her head.
“A girl needs a tiara,” I reply with a shrug. “Besides, I’m running out of ideas on what to get you guys. We already have everything.”
“I feel very royal,” Grace says, her face sober as she gives us all a stoic wave, pretending to greet her subjects.
“Isn’t Jacob a royal?” I ask and reach for a box of Milk Duds. We’ve decided to have movie night in Grace and Jacob’s home theater, so we have all of the movie essentials; candy, popcorn, soda, and possible diabetes.