Caught by Emma Louise
Chapter Sixteen
Did the last thirty minutes actually happen?I ask myself as I drag the now damp towel through my hair. The sound of the bathroom door closing still rings in my ears. As soon as he helped me out of the tub and made sure I had what I needed, he bolted so fast I’m surprised there isn’t a Max-shaped hole in the door.
The very last thing I expected when I sank down for a much-needed hot bath was to end it naked in front of the man I spend way too much of my time fantasising about. Gah! He actually saw me naked! I don’t even know where to begin with trying to process that thought.
Who would’ve thought that big bad Max Arden would turn out to be so gentle? Closing my eyes and leaning back against the vanity, I let myself get lost in the memory of his long, strong fingers massaging my scalp. God. It felt so freaking good that I would have let him do it for hours. Those few minutes of contact from Max had me closer to orgasm than any other man in far too long.
Once I’m dried, I slip the shirt Max left for me over my head, the faint scent of laundry detergent disappointing me. I wanted to smell Max on my skin.
This is not good. Get a grip on yourself, Darcey. He does not like you like that. I tell myself, trying damn hard to ignore the stab of disappointment that realization brings me.
I'm not a vain person, but I know I'm not hard to look at. Even after having Cass, my body was pretty much the same as it was before pregnancy. I didn’t have any problems losing the small amount of wait I’d gained. Aside from the tiny scar from my c-section, I look the same as before.
I sat in front of that man naked as the day I was born, and he wasn’t even a bit affected. The thought slams into me from nowhere. Max isn't at all attracted to me, not even naked and wet. There wasn’t even the smallest hint of a reaction from him. Well, unless you count the anger that seemed to pour from him in heavy waves.
How absolutely mortifying! He had his hands on me, helped me get the towel on my wet body, and there wasn’t so much as a chink in his armor. Add to that the fact that he obviously couldn’t wait to get away from me, that’s more than enough evidence for me to conclude that Max Arden does not want me; he isn't having sleepless nights thanks to dreams of what we could be like in bed together. That shouldn’t bother me, he’s the very last man I should be lusting after, but nobody bothered to tell my libido that.
Looking around the spacious bathroom, my eyes land on the toothbrush and razor discarded on the side. This is where he gets ready every day. This is where he showers. Naked.
“Stop it, Darcey! You need to get a grip on these thoughts,” I chastise myself under my breath. I need to get out of his space and into bed. I need to be as far away from all things Max as soon as I possibly can be.
Twisting the handle slowly, I'm crossing my fingers and toes that I can get out of Max's bedroom without him seeing me.
Poking my head out the door, I take in the huge master bedroom. The room is empty save for a ridiculously large bed that sits close to the window. I bet you can see the lake from that bed. The navy-blue sheets are pulled back. I don’t why, but that surprises me. Max is type-A, military to the core. It's strange to think of him not making an inspection-ready bed every single morning. Tearing my eyes off the bed, I see the only other furniture is one battered-looking bedside table. It's too far away for me to see it clearly, thanks to the dim light coming from outside, but my eyes still try to see what's in the picture frame there. It must be important to him. The house is bare of anything, so for Max to have put a frame right there of all places, it must be special to him.
Is it his wife? The mysterious one that nobody ever mentions? I can’t help but wonder. I know she isn't dead thanks to the file I read on him before we met. I’ve been here for days, and I’ve yet to see a single thing that points to a woman ever having lived here. I'm tempted to go look at it closely, but the sound of approaching footsteps stops me from moving. There goes any hope I had of escaping.
"Are you doing okay?" His imposing frame fills the doorway, and my eyes train on his biceps and the way they shift and bunch under the tight edge of his sleeves. "Darce?" he prompts when no answer comes from me. Shaking myself out of the stupor he always seems to put me in, I give him a partly fake smile. I know it was me who pushed for us to try to be friends, but if I'm being honest with myself, I only said it to break the awkward tension that we always seem to find ourselves in. Being friends with this man isn’t going to end well for me. Part of me almost wishes he would go back to openly disliking me.
Who am I kidding? I still found him impossibly fascinating when he was being hostile toward me.
"I'm good. I'll probably just head to bed now." I finally find the words to speak.
“I just put some pizza in to warm for you, so you don’t have to take these on an empty stomach.” Reaching out, he takes hold of my hand. My brain and heart are not on the same page; in fact, I think they must be reading separate stories because their reactions couldn’t be more different. My brain says run, pull your hand from his and get the fuck out of there. My heart, on the other hand, is a traitorous bitch. She squeezes in delight in my chest at the feel of his skin on mine. I expect him to link his fingers with mine, but he grips my wrist and turns my hand over. He drops the tablets in my hand, and the breath I was subconsciously holding finally escapes me as a long, low puff of air.
"Do you think I could have a beer with these?" I look down at the small white pills that rests in the palm of my hand, then to the bottle of iced water Max is holding out for me to take. He turns on his heel and walks away. I’m too busy staring at his ass to follow him right away. The worn jeans that mold to him perfectly are a sight to behold. It takes him turning the corner, out of sight, for the spell to be broken. I find myself following after him, my feet taking me to him without my brain telling them to.
"Here you go." He lets out a small chuckle, and the sound makes the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. "It's just a couple Tylenol; I'm sure you'll be fine. Do you want to take these outside?" he asks carefully as he waves the beer bottles he's just grabbed from the refrigerator.
"Sure." I really should just tell him I’m too tired for this tonight, but he’s finally treating me like a human being, and a part of me is actually enjoying it.
"Go on out. I'll open these and be right out." His casually friendly voice catches me off guard. It's going to take a minute for me to get used to him being a semi-decent person; although, with his track record, I’m sure he’ll be back to his usual dickhead ways soon enough.
Stepping outside of the huge sliding glass doors, the cool evening air is a shock to my still warm skin, reminding me that I'm just wearing a thin t-shirt. My legs are fully on display, and if this chilly breeze keeps up, my nipples probably will be too. I'm thinking of heading inside to put warmer clothes on, when Max appears with a hoodie in his outstretched hand.
"I'll put the patio heater on; it won’t take too long to warm up some."
"Thank you so much," I say, following him to the seating area that's just off the kitchen.
"Can you please do me one favor?" Max asks once we're seated.
"Depends on what it is." My somewhat sassy answer has a small smile tugging at the edge of his lips again. It makes me long to see a full-fledged smile there one day.
"Stop thanking me." That catches me off guard. I'm not sure what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn't that.
"Why?" I finally manage to ask.
"Honestly?" he asks before raising the bottle to his lips and taking a long pull. "It makes me feel like shit." Something about the blunt way he says it has me spraying my own beer all over the table as a laugh bubbles out of me.
"Again, I have to ask, why?" I manage to ask once I’m over my little choking fit.
"I was a dick to you. We agreed to start fresh and all that, but you apologizing all the damn time is making it damn hard to forget how I acted toward you."
"Fair enough. I'll stop. As long as you let me say it one more time.” He looks like he wants to argue, so I just keep speaking anyway. “Thank you, Max, for everything you've done for Cass and me. Not just tonight and for letting us stay here, but for giving me a job too. It means everything."
"Well, technically you can thank Crew for the job part," he mutters, making me want to chuckle again. For the first time in the last few weeks, I feel like a weight is being lifted off my shoulders. Being able to sit here like this is an unexpected turn of events, but definitely a welcomed one.
Being in such a peaceful setting certainly helps. Max's house is gorgeous. Nothing like the bachelor pad I expected it to be. But even if it was a crumbling wooden shack, I'd be happy to stay here just for the location. The whole backyard is open, the lawn stretching down to the wooden dock. The calm water of the lake fills the rest of the view. It feels like we're in our own little world out here, nestled amongst the tall trees.
"How are you feeling?" Max asks after we've sat in a comfortable silence for a short while.
"I'm good. That Tylenol is kicking in already. And despite how it ended, that bath really did help." I have to bite my tongue when the urge to thank him once again sneaks up on me.
"Good," he says, but I get the feeling he has more to say. He looks out over the water instead of at me, and the beer I've just swallowed turns to lead in my belly.
"And how are you doing after what happened? Up here, I mean." He taps at the side of his head, asking how I'm doing mentally.
Nope, I'm not touching that question. I'm not telling him that I'm terrified all the time. I'm here because whoever attacked me has no idea where to find me, and his house has some crazy alarm system, but I'm constantly scared someone is going to jump out of an unknown corner to finish what they started a few days ago. I'm not telling him that the little bits of sleep I've gotten the last few nights have been riddled with graphic nightmares of what could’ve happened to me, and Lord forbid, Cass if she'd been with me that day.
I drain the last of the beer while I try to formulate an answer. Max is shrewd. He isn't going to believe my lies when I tell him I'm doing fine. I have to hope he's too polite to push me on it.
"It was a tough few days, but I'm pretty sure it was just kids looking for some quick money."
"It's okay to not be okay, you know?"
"Aww. You're a counselor now?" I try to play it off like I'm joking, but we both hear the sharp edge of sarcasm in my words. I suddenly regret finishing my beer so quickly, suddenly craving the mellow feeling of something alcoholic.
"I'm just asking." I hear the effort he's put into staying calm, when I'm all but goading him into an argument.
"And I'm just telling you that you don't need to ask. I'm fine. I've been through worse; trust me." I mutter the last few words more to myself than anything, but as soon as they leave my lips, the air around us electrifies. I've inadvertently poked the bear, and he isn’t happy.
"What the fuck does that mean?" The bottle he was holding smashes down onto the wooden tabletop, the thud loud in the otherwise quiet space.
"Nothing. Forget I said anything." Pushing back from the table, I bite back the wince of pain I feel when I straighten out of the chair. Turning to leave, I don't offer up a goodbye. I just need to get out of this conversation. I get maybe two steps before I hear Max's chair scrape loudly against the deck too.
"Tell me what you meant," he growls from behind me, and like an idiot, I stop walking, meaning he's on me within a second. I feel him at my back, the old, familiar waves of anger back once again. This time there's a darker energy there, though, a malevolence that swirls around us.
"It really doesn't matter, Max. Can you please just forget I said anything," I ask the empty space in front of me. I don't turn, not wanting him to see how defeated I feel.
"If there's something in your past, that could help us work out what happened."
“There isn't."
"Are you sure? Because it doesn't sound much like you are to me."
Swinging around so we're finally face-to-face, I pull in every thin thread of strength I have left.
"I don't owe you anything." This seems to catch him off guard.
"What? What does that have to do with this conversation?"
"It means that I don't owe you a damn thing," I repeat. "I'm staying here for Cass. So I can get back on my feet enough to be able to look after her on my own again. I'm not here so you can save me like I’m some pathetic, feeble woman," I sneer nastily. "If I don't want to talk to you, I don't have to justify why. My past is exactly that. Mine." Losing grip on the control I've tried to keep, I raise a finger and poke it sharply into his chest. "You don't get to have that from me."
“But if it's something that can keep you safe now—” he starts again.
"There's nothing in my past that can hurt me. Trust me, I made sure of that," I tell him, jabbing a finger into my chest this time.
"Darcey..." he says, pushing a frustrated hand through his already unruly hair. "I'm just trying to keep you safe."
"And that's why I'm still here," I fire back. "But don't worry. We'll be gone soon enough."
He closes the space between us, getting right into my face. "I never asked you to go. I want you to stay here as long as it takes to make sure you're safe."
"As long as I open up and tell you things I don't want to?" His face is right there, close to mine, so I don't miss the way his eyes are lit up, the fire in them no doubt matching the fire in my own. "What are we doing? One minute we can't stand each other, then we're civil. You help me out today, taking care of me like nobody ever has, then you push me until I snap at you?"
He studies me for a beat, then another. I wait for him to say something. Anything to break the tension of this moment.
Nothing.
He doesn’t say a damn thing.
Twisting my arm out of his grip, I once again turn to leave. This time he lets me go. I'm just clearing the door when I turn back to deliver the last thing I want to say to this man.
"Don't think I haven't noticed I'm the only one keeping things to themselves, Max. We both have secrets, right? You aren't the only one who’s allowed to keep them."
Not waiting for a reaction, I rush down the hallway that leads to my room. Resisting the urge to slam the door, I push it closed softly so it doesn't wake Cass. I make sure to turn the lock, though. Not that I think Max would try to come in here.
Even though part of me wishes he would.