Sarah smiled brightly, turning her shoulders so the right one lined up with her chin. “Definitely not.”
Damn, she was so easy. So straightforward. Well, aside from trying to trick him into taking her virginity. But he couldn’t hold it against her. She’d had her reasons, and while he was fucking glad he’d figured out what was going on before doing something neither of them could take back, at least he got where she was coming from.
Now they understood each other.
“Great. Let’s go kick some ass.” He grinned. Because Emily was damn near impossible to beat and had a lesson in humility coming he couldn’t wait to watch Sarah serve up.
* * *
By the end of the night, Sarah was pretty sure she’d either made a mortal enemy or a new best friend. On the one hand, Emily had called her every name in the book and a few Sarah was pretty sure had been made up on the spot. On the other hand—
“Ooh, come on, Sean. You have to find Sarah a job in Chicago,” Emily pleaded, giving Sean the big eyes while clasping her hands beneath her chin. “I want to keep her!”
“Yeah, Em, I want to keep her too. Why else do you think I brought her out?” Sean asked, flashing that smooth, charming smile Sarah’s way. “I’m counting on you guys for the hard sell.”
Jase stood behind his wife, his hands on her shoulders. “If anyone can land the deal, this one can,” he said proudly.
They were a cute couple. Both crazy tall and gorgeous. Jase had that sort of tousled Superman hair to match his broad shoulders and above-average height. Emily was runway gorgeous, with silky-soft strawberry-blond hair and the kind of long legs Sarah, coming in at a measly five foot four, had only dreamed of. And jeez, the way Jase looked at Emily when they were together—so completely in love—had given Sarah a case of the dreamy sighs.
She scooted back on her stool. “You guys are awesome, but for as much fun as I had schooling you in darts”—she looked directly at Sean—“I’d go out of my flipping mind if this job was permanent.”
There just wasn’t that much to do, and they both knew it. She thrived on challenge, period.
“So how long are you here again?” Molly asked, kicked back in her chair as she picked at the label on her bottle.
“Last week in August,” Sarah replied. “I start in New York September first.”
“Nice! That means you’ll be around for all the festivals.” Molly gave Brody—who’d joined them about thirty minutes before—a pointed look. “I get her for Brew to Be Wild.” Then turning back to Sarah, she leaned over the table, explaining, “You get to try twenty different beers at the zoo, which is awesome, if you haven’t been there.”
“I remember the zoo, though it’s definitely been a while. But what a fun idea.”
“Yeah, there’s no shortage of cool stuff through the summer,” Max agreed, leaning into Sarah’s side so his arm pressed briefly against hers. “You remember all the art fairs, neighborhood festivals, and music?”
She nodded, but the heat of that contact was distracting her with how good it felt. No one touched her like that. Work friends didn’t break physical boundaries except on the smallest scale, and this full shoulder-to-elbow press, platonic as it may have been intended, was just so good.
Turning, she met Max’s eyes. They were closer than she expected.
“I, uh… Yes, I remember you telling me about your favorites one night. Taste of Chicago and Blues Fest. Lollapalooza.”
“Damn, how do you remember that stuff?” Max asked, smiling as he searched her eyes in a way that set the butterflies loose and made her speak before she thought.
“At the time, I think I might have been hoping you and I would go together.”
Max tipped his head closer. “Yeah, I’d been thinking about that too. Only I kept telling myself it wasn’t a good idea.”
Right. Like she was telling herself now.
“I remember thinking the same thing.” Breaking the eye contact that was starting to make her a little breathless, Sarah took a sip of her beer. “Just thinking about all those good ideas and right things and responsible choices makes me want to go back and throw them all out the window. Probably would have ended up having a heck of a lot more fun.” And a hell of a lot less heartbreak.
Setting down her glass, Sarah realized another conversation was still taking place at the table.
“Molly, you get that I’m the boss, right?” Brody bristled, leaning back in his chair and stretching those thick arms out wide. “I ought to get to take Sarah to the zoo one with the beer tastings. Booze is my thing.”
“Screw that, boss man.” Molly chuckled, clearly unconcerned about the employee-employer workplace power dynamic as she flipped him off with an impish smile from where she was slumped down in her seat. “You can take her to that pole-dancing contest we saw out in St. Charles. Show off some of your mad skills.”
“Jesus,” Sean cut in, waving a hand between them like he wanted to wave away the mental imagery. “You realize, I’m trying to sell Sarah on staying, not send her bolting out of Illinois in terror because of you bunch of tools.”
Molly laughed through her nose. “You’re a tool.”
Sean didn’t need to worry. These guys were exactly what Sarah needed. They were fun and real, and made her laugh like she couldn’t remember laughing in a very long time.
Twenty minutes later, things were wrapping up. The beers had been cleared, the tabs settled, and the last rounds of congratulations made to Jill and her boyfriend and the rest of the players who’d come to the bar. Sarah was getting ready to leave when Max came up and helped her with her light sweater.
“You have wonderful friends,” she said, trying not to get distracted by how close he was standing or that his hands had brushed her shoulders before she turned to look at him. “Thanks for letting me spank them in darts tonight. This was just what I needed.”
Max shrugged, his arms crossing over his chest. “Glad to have you on my team. And glad for the chance to hang out.”
For a moment, she wondered whether he was going to ask if she’d like to do something another time. Or if she wanted a ride home. But she knew he wouldn’t, and not just because he’d asked earlier and she turned him down. But because of that thing still lingering in the air between them. If he wanted to see her again, it wouldn’t be as friends, and they both knew it.
It was for the best. She didn’t need the distraction or the temptation or any of the other confusing things Max tended to be for her. And the one thing she did need? Well, he wasn’t offering.
Tonight had been a freebie. Sean orchestrated it, and neither she nor Max had played a part in that. Which meant they’d been able to enjoy the time together without the expectation, anticipation, or implication of something more.
Their eyes met one last time, holding as she smiled. “Take care, Max.”
* * *
Friday night rolled around at a snail’s pace. Probably because Max hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Sarah all week. On Wednesday, he’d been watching the front door of Belfast from the minute he walked in—a full hour before everyone was supposed to meet up—because a part of him was holding his damn breath that Sean was gonna show up with Sarah on his arm.
But when his buddy strolled through the door alone, Max spent the next two hours telling himself he was glad about it. That it was what he’d really wanted to happen. Just like he told himself he wasn’t going to go home that night and take the edge off thinking about the taste of Sarah’s kiss.
Obviously, he was a liar on both counts. And today he’d woken up feeling like crap because of the naughty—like, triple X–rated naughty—dream from the night before featuring his favorite good girl letting him teach her all about being bad.
Shit. And now he was getting hard again, just thinking about it.
Thankfully, he was in the confines of his own home i
nstead of stuck behind the wheel of his patrol car with his temporary partner asking him if he was okay every ten minutes because of the way he kept shifting around.
Picking up the Sheetrock he’d cut the night before, Max positioned the pieces around the room where they were going to be hung. Sean had said he’d be over about now to help hang as many pieces as they could in the hour and a half before everybody else showed up to watch the fight on pay-per-view.
Sure enough, a few minutes later, Max jogged down the stairs to answer the door. Sean was there, but instead of the blue jeans and band T-shirt Max had been expecting, Sean was dressed like he was…shit, doing anything other than hanging Sheetrock.
“What’s up?” Max asked, nodding at Sean’s cleaner, more casual attire.
“Sorry, man,” Sean said, walking past him into the rehabbed downstairs hall. “I can help for about thirty minutes with whatever you’ve got, but change of plans tonight. I gotta bail.”
Damn, that sucked. “No problem. Cool of you to come over anyway. Let’s see what we can get done.”
Sean nodded, leading the way up the stairs. After all the times he’d helped out, the guy was as familiar with the brownstone as Max.
“It’s fucking weird that you don’t have any furniture in this place.” Sean looked around the way he always did, like he expected Max to have picked out bedroom sets and china cabinets over the last three and a half days for the handful of rooms not currently under construction.
“It’s temporary,” Max said, reaching the top of the stairs and waving Sean toward the front room overlooking the street. “I’ve got everything I need.”
“What you have are a mattress shoved against one corner of the living room, a metal hanging rack, and six milk crates for your clothes. You need some furniture. You live here.”
“I have a couch. And why would I fill this place when I’m just gonna sell it? Houses show better empty, and what the hell am I going to do with all that crap when I move into the next place and need to rip down the walls and fix the wiring and all the other shit that comes with gutting a house?”
Sean shook his head as he ducked through the plastic draping that kept the construction dust contained. “Yeah, but you live in these places for almost a year. The least you could do is give yourself a functional kitchen. And before you tell me you’ve got one, one pot and a drawer full of plastic silverware don’t count. And FYI, those lawn chairs you have for your guests are fucking ridiculous. Nobody likes sitting in them.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Max replied, having heard it all before. Sean was probably right, but what Max had was just so easy. It was hassle free, and he was used to it. Maybe one of these days he’d get around to investing in a couple more comfortable pieces of furniture, but for now he was good.
Sean picked up one of the sheets of drywall and held it in place while Max grabbed his drill.
“So what’ve you got going on tonight?” Max asked, digging out a few screws so they could get started. He’d taken this room down to the bones, so it would feel good to finish and check it off his list. Positioning the first screw, he lined up the bit.
“Not much. Just Sarah,” Sean said with a shrug. “She needs a favor, and I said I’d help her out.”
Max hadn’t even realized he’d hit the power, but the drill whirled, flying off the screw and into the drywall. And then the drill was on the floor, and Max’s hands were wrapped in Sean’s shirt as he backed the guy who’d been like a brother to him across the room.
“No. Fucking. Way. Sean.” That was the sound of his crazy train going off the rails.
But then the element of surprise had worn off, and Sean’s feet dug in. Grabbing hold of Max’s wrists, he pushed back into the space between them.
“What the fuck, man?” he demanded through gritted teeth.
Max knew what he was doing was bullshit. Again.
But all he could see was Sarah falling back on her bed. That spill of dark silken hair pooling over her pillow as her lips parted and her back arched.
Beneath Sean.
“A favor?” Max demanded, unable to stop himself from pushing his friend with a solid shove. “Just planning to help her out? Or have you been helping her out already?”
Sean’s head turned to the side, his eyes closing for a brief second.
Was that guilt? Jesus, he’d already had her. Max’s gut churned so hard he could barely breathe.
“Fuck this, Max.” Sean glared at him. “I thought it was kind of cute that first day when you about lost your shit thinking I was on a date with her. Hell, I might’ve even encouraged it some, since it was about fucking time you stopped dicking your way through Chicago one night at a time. But do you get off your ass and do something about it? No. You tell me there’s nothing between you. Right. Denial. Fine. You’re slow, so I figure I’ll give you another shot. Another night out with Sarah, who happens to be one hell of a girl. But you still don’t do anything.
“And now here we are, four days later. Have you called her? Have you done one fucking thing, other than trying to toss me up against a wall, for what? I don’t even know. No. You haven’t, and I’ve about had it with your bipolar possessive bullshit. So back the fuck off before I put my fist in your face and have to spend the next week explaining why to your little sister.”
Max let go of Sean’s shirt and shook out his hand, which felt strangely numb. His heart was slamming in his chest, but he’d held on to his sanity enough to know everything Sean had said was true.
Clearing his throat, he took a step back. He tried like hell, but he still couldn’t meet Sean’s eyes when he asked, “So now you want her?”
“It wouldn’t fucking matter if I did, because she’s not interested in me!” Sean spit back. “In case you’re too blind to see it, the only guy she’s looking at is you. So what the hell is going on here?”
Now Max did meet his friend’s eyes, and all he saw there was confusion.
Okay, confusion and a good amount of pissed off. “What kind of favor was she asking you for?” Max asked, forcing himself to back up a step and then another.
“Piper’s out of town, and she needed help moving something,” Sean grumbled, then giving Max a pointed look, added, “Not that it’s any of your damned business. Right?”
What the hell was wrong with him? Sean was right. He was acting like a grade-A asshole. But the idea that Sean was going over there to help her out with that little problem she’d come to Max with first had been enough to send him off the deep end. Which was nuts, because she’d told him flat-out that she’d find someone else to help her with it. And he’d nodded like it was no big deal. Like that was some solid plan he supported.
Like he wasn’t going to go nuclear the second he thought about it actually happening.
Sean walked back to the sheet of drywall now lying on the floor. Crouching down, he ran his thumb over the spot where Max had lost control of the drill and his mind.
“This is still useable. You want to get back to it, or should I roll up my sleeves and pound the snot out of you?”
“Sean, man, I’m sorry.”
Max shook his head and reached into his pocket for a wad of bills he slapped into Sean’s hand. “This is for the pizza. Forget the drywall. And the favor too. Stay here and watch the game with everyone when they show up. I gotta go.”
Chapter 10
The fridge was gross. Kneeling in front of the open door, her semiretired yoga pants not nearly enough padding to protect her knees from the scarred wood of Piper’s kitchen floor, Sarah scrubbed the darkened crevices and mystery splatters in the new used fridge Piper had “scored” from some friends. Friends who had been willing to get the massive appliance up the stairs and into the apartment, but drew the line at crossing the kitchen to back it into the spot where the old one had been.
Sarah couldn’t believe she’d had to call Sean to help, bu
t the guy had always joked that if he could get her to Chicago, he’d help her move in himself. This counted.
The buzzer sounded from the lobby security door, and Sarah pushed to her feet. Joints aching, she rushed over to the intercom, buzzing Sean up right away. This would be nice. He was always good company, and she could use the break from thinking about Max, who’d been on her mind way too much. She’d buy a pizza and see if Sean wanted to stick around for a beer.
Walking back to the sink, she stripped off her rubber gloves before doing a quick wash up to her elbows, just in case any of the gross had gotten on her.
Catching a glimpse of her reflection in the window above the sink, she flinched. The messy bun, ten-year-old tank top, and dust-covered yoga pants were casual in a way she and Sean—for as much as they got along—didn’t do. Whatever, it was too late to change or add a little makeup, and honestly, it was just Sean.
A knock sounded, and she opened the door. “Hey, thanks so much for—” But the rest of whatever she’d been about to say died on her lips as she registered who was standing in her doorway.
Not Sean.
Not unless he’d found a way to grow a few inches and add a whole lot of muscle overnight. She dragged her eyes up over the solid slabs of hard chest, neatly packaged in an old Atari T-shirt flecked with bits of plaster and paint, up the thick column of his neck to the jaw that was flexing in time with her pounding heart, then up into the eyes she’d been dreaming about for years.
“Max,” she croaked, looking past him. “Is Sean with you?”
“No.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
Max scrubbed the back of his head, looking down the hall behind him like he was thinking about turning around and leaving. Like he wasn’t sure if he should have come. Then blowing out a harsh breath, he met her eyes.
“I’ll do it.”
Her brows lifted, her lips falling open as she felt the impact of those few words. She swallowed, stepping back so he could come inside. After one last look for Sean, she closed and locked the door. This was no conversation for her boss to stumble into.