Cam smirked and crossed his arms. “Great.”
Maxx stepped forward, gripping my arm. “The office,” he snapped.
I tried not to feel the thrill of his touch or the way his voice made me shiver. In the office, he spun me around. “Stay out of this, Charly.”
“Stay out of what? Looking at your schedule so you can go somewhere?”
He crossed his arms, narrowing his gaze. I could feel the anger rolling off him, and I found great delight in it. He had been far too polite and lackluster the past few days. That wasn’t Maxx. Growly, snappy, and terse—that was him.
I mimicked his stance. “It might do you some good to get away for a while.”
“I’m not interested in your opinion.”
I shrugged and sat down. “Fine. Act like a martyr.”
“I’m not acting like a martyr. I’m acting like a sensible business owner.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I can’t just leave the garage. I have commitments.”
I crossed my arms and glared at him. “Are you trying to convince me or yourself, Maxx?”
Dark eyes glared back at me, lethal and threatening. His glower was furious, the knuckles on his hands white as they fisted at his sides.
“Where exactly would you be going?”
He dropped his head, shaking it in resignation. “I was offered a chance to be part of a convention in the States. Los Angeles. They had a last-minute cancellation, and my name came up. I would be talking about motorcycle restoration.” He paused. “All expenses paid. I would give a series of talks and demonstrations. They supply everything.”
“Maxx, that’s amazing!”
“I was pleased to be asked,” he said, the words all the more telling from the undercurrent in his voice. He wanted to go.
“Think of the networking, the chance to get your name out there. The business this could bring you,” I urged. “You have to go.”
“And what, just close the garage and leave you to run amok? I don’t think so,” he sniped.
I almost laughed at his attempt to piss me off.
“I was at the general store a couple of times last week. Mr. Conner’s son was there.”
Maxx frowned. “Brett?”
“Yes. He told me the shop he worked at in Toronto had a fire. He’s out of a job until it’s rebuilt, so he’s back home. He’s a mechanic.”
“I know he’s a mechanic.” He stopped as my words sank in. “You want me to have Brett cover here?”
I detected a note of worry in Maxx’s voice, and I knew this was thin ice I was walking on.
“You’ve known him all your life. He told me you went to school together.”
A strange looked passed over his face. “Sometimes, that means nothing.”
I held back the retort I wanted to say. Instead, I shrugged. “Sometimes, it does.”
“I’d be gone a whole week. They want me to fly out tomorrow, and I would be gone until next Tuesday. That’s a lot of arranging to be done,” he muttered.
“You could at least talk to him. If you’re worried, you can change the bank password and only let Brett have access to the front. I’ll work in the office on other things and take the payments. Get Mary to come babysit us if that makes you feel better. Put a spy cam in the garage—whatever you have to do. But don’t simply walk away from an opportunity like this, Maxx.”
He stared at me, silent and brooding. I waited for his eventual dismissal of my ideas. I was shocked when he nodded and spun on his heel. “I’ll think about it.”
Refusing to give him the chance to overthink it, I opened my laptop, brought up flights to LA, and checked the schedules. I made a quick phone call, printed out a few options, then went out front, laying the paper beside him. Cam watched us, looking amused.
“Just in case, these are some flight options. And, ah, Brett is going to drop by shortly. Just to talk. Either way—your decision.” I scurried back to the office before he could yell. It was an incredible opportunity for him, and the break might do him some good. Maybe he would relax and enjoy himself. Make some good connections.
Maybe when he came back, I wouldn’t annoy him so much.
I shut down my laptop and walked through the garage, hoping to escape unnoticed. I felt Maxx’s glare follow me, and his voice boomed out as I reached the door. “Meeting at three, Charly. I expect those numbers to be ready.”
“Yep,” I squeaked. Then, like the coward I was, ran.
Maxx stormed through the door of the house around two thirty. I was upstairs, changing his sheets. I heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs and swallowed. He walked into the room, which seemed to shrink and close in around us. But when he spoke, his voice was deceptively mild.
“What part of ‘stay out of it’ did you not understand?”
“Um, the whole part?” I replied, keeping my voice light. “I just made a phone call. Easy peasy. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.”