He played with my hair, twirling a piece around between his fingers. “You make the best lemon pie I’ve ever tasted.”

“That’s hardly a secret.”

He tipped up my chin and brushed a kiss to my mouth.

“Neither was yours.”

I chuckled. “Can I ask a question?”

“I think you just did.”

“No, um—Maxx. Two x’s. That’s unusual. Is it a family name?”

It was his turn to chuckle. “No. It was an error. My mom wanted Maxwell, my dad liked Max. He crossed out the ‘well’ at the end, and the person read it as M-A-X-X, and that was how it was recorded. My mom decided she liked it—it was different, so she left it. My dad never lived it down. I kinda like it too.”

I pressed a kiss to his scruff. “It suits you. You’re so sexy, you need two x’s—like a warning label.”

He groaned at my quip. “Now you got a second secret. My turn.”

I snuggled back to his chest. “I like it here. It’s peaceful and pretty.”

He didn’t say anything, maybe surprised by my words. His arms tightened a little, then he spoke.

“I hated the feeling I had when I couldn’t find you.”

I felt a small thrill at his words, but I didn’t react.

“I’m sorry. I’ll call next time.”

“I’ll know you’re at Mary’s gossiping.”

“We weren’t gossiping. We were playing cards and talking.”

“Was I mentioned in the conversation?” he asked dryly.

I remained silent.

“Gossiping,” he stated smugly. Then his voice took on a warning tone. “I don’t like to be talked about, Red. I value my privacy.”

I blew out an indignant sigh. “What an ego you have. Not everything is about you. We had lots of other things to talk about, you know.”

He didn’t reply.

“Mary knows you, and she knows you’re private. You were barely mentioned.” I warmed to my annoyance. “And what was that shit about my glasses and wearing contacts? I need them for reading. And I don’t own a turtleneck. Besides, it’s summer, and I would perish in the heat.”

A long deep snore was his response. I tilted back my head, looking at him.

He was asleep. He fucked me like a champion, then passed out.

With a huff, I slipped from the covers, pulled on my jeans, and yanked on his shirt he’d taken off earlier.

As far as I was concerned, he could wear mine.

I held my head high all the way back to my little room.Chapter 12CHARLYMaxx didn’t come into the office the next morning. He showed up early and went straight to work on an old Toyota Camry that was in the shop. It was in great shape, the original bodywork still in place, no rust that I could see. It was a creamy white and, obviously, well maintained.

I was certain he regretted last night. I had zero regrets, except knowing it would probably make him more distant and grumpier. Plus, I had no doubt he would inform me today it wasn’t happening again. Or he would pretend it never happened.

I could do the same thing, except for the slight ache in my lower back and the fact that I was a little tender in spots.

Being ridden hard would do that to a girl. Maybe I would ask him today if I could soak in the tub. I poured him a cup of coffee and carried it out front and leaned against the bumper.

“Morning, boss.”

All I got was a low grunt from under the hood.

“I brought you coffee.”

“Fine,” was the muffled response.

I admired his ass before I spoke. “Nice car.”

I saw his back flex as he exhaled in resignation, realizing I was going to keep talking. He lifted his head. “Yes. A nice old Camry.”

“Ninety-two?” I guessed. “That was sort of the breakout year.”

His gaze was filled with annoyance. “Yes. And it will be ninety-two more years before I get this done if you don’t shut up. Don’t you have work to do?”

“Yep. Lots of it. I need some reports pulled to do it, though, and you’re avoiding me.”

He brought himself to his full height, towering over me. “I am not avoiding you.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Is that my shirt?”

“Oh.” I fingered the collar. “Yes. Mine seems to be missing.” I batted my eyelashes, trying to look innocent. “Have you seen it?”

I expected a snarl. A biting comeback. What I didn’t expect was the open expression on his face. Or his sudden shout of laughter. Even more surprising was the way he moved, caging me between his arms against the car. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I have. It looks far better on my bedroom floor.” He leaned in and nipped my neck. “The password is ThomasR1950. Get your own damn reports. I’m busy.”

Then he got back to work. I blinked. Looked around the garage expecting a camera crew and someone yelling “Punked!” to jump out.

“Um,” I stammered. “That will give me access to everything.”

Tags: Melanie Moreland Romance
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