“That’s really cool, Cozy,” Maggie offers with a smile.
“And I do have some calluses, I’ll have you know.” Cassandra turns her focus to Sam. “See?”
Sam eyes her hands closer this time. “Child’s play. Come to Tire Depot and sling tires with Miles and me sometime. That’ll really toughen up your hands.”
“Sounds like a blast,” she replies with a smirk that I wish was directed at me, not fucking Sam.
“It’s better appreciated as a spectator sport,” Kate adds with a wink. “Trust me.”
The game resumes, and I sit back and sip my whiskey, brooding over the fact that Cassandra is keeping things from me. I thought after this week I was finally feeling more secure in my decision to hire her, but the more I learn about the woman I practically invited to live with me, the more I wonder who the hell she is and why she’d even want to be a nanny in the first place.
A knock on my door Saturday afternoon has me setting my book down to see who it is. My heart rate increases when I see Max’s broad shoulders through the window. I snuck off to bed early last night before his friends left because I didn’t want to talk to him at the end of the night after how heated things got by the fire.
I don’t know what the hell that was. And I hate that fighting with Max in front of all his friends felt like some sort of torturous foreplay that they were all spectators to. Damn, that man can be pushy at times. No wonder my sister called him a high-maintenance client. I sincerely hope he’s not knocking on my door to fire me. I’ve had enough close brushes with that to last a lifetime.
Steeling myself, I open the door and hold the frame for balance because his body in jeans and a T-shirt is stupid. “Hey, I was just going to text you, actually.”
“Oh?” Max asks, eyeing me curiously.
My jaw feels taut when I force myself to say what I’m about to say because I need this job. “I’m sorry if I had a little attitude with you last night. I…maybe had too much to drink.” Total lie.
Max shakes his head stiffly. “I shouldn’t have pried.”
“You were just curious. I was rude.”
“I was rude.” He licks his lips and pauses for a moment. He sighs heavily and adds, “I’m a man who is used to getting what he wants.”
My heart lurches up into my throat at the wicked connotation that remark possesses. I steel myself to reply, “I’m a woman who can be pretty stubborn sometimes.”
“I noticed.” A smile ghosts his lips, and I once again get lost in thoughts of how kissable they look. “Anyway, I didn’t come here for an apology. Would you come with me? I want to show you something.”
Max steps back, and I frown curiously as I slide my feet into my flip-flops and follow him through the yard and around the house toward the five-stall garage sitting open. He opens a door that leads into a closed-off area of the garage that looks like a little man cave. He steps back and gestures to a large workbench that’s ridiculously organized with a pegboard above and a million different tools mounted.
“Before I started my own company, I used to do construction with my dad. A lot of carpentry work and such. Anyway, I don’t do much of that anymore, but I still have all this stuff.”
“Okay…” I respond in confusion, looking around at the power tools tucked under the bench.
“You can use it,” Max adds crisply. “For your…charcuterie boards.”
“Seriously?” I turn and eye the space with renewed interest.
“It’s just sitting here collecting dust, so somebody might as well make good use of it. You can use this as your personal workshop or whatever. It’s temperature controlled over here.” He taps on a device on the wall, and a digital screen pops up. He then hands me a garage door opener. “You can keep this to get in and out without having to come through the house.”
I hold the clicker in my hand, my eyes blinking back the shock that’s taking over my entire body. “Wow…this is…really thoughtful, Max.”
“It’s nothing,” he replies and moves to stand awkwardly in the doorway. He slides his hands into his jean pockets. “If you need wood, there are some scrap pieces on the lower shelf, but several hunks of trees that can be chopped into lumber are also down by the beach. I just haven’t gotten around to chopping them yet. Just let me know how you like it, and I can help you out with that.”
“You…chop your own wood?” I ask, my mouth suddenly very parched as I imagine him shirtless and glistening with sweat as he grunts through each swing of an axe.