Love Under Construction (The Love Under Series Book 1) (13 page)

“So is this okay?” he whispered against my lips.

“I’m okay with this,” I breathed back, forgetting what we were discussing. His lips pressed against mine again, and his tongue swiped against the crease of my lips requesting entrance.

Max was so gentle. It was so anti-typical and just went to prove you couldn’t judge a book by its cover. His sharp edges of his Mohawk, arms filled with colorful tattoos and roughness of his stubble was a bold contrast to his soft lips and gentle caress. He held my face in his palms and a light-as-butterfly-kiss laid his lips upon mine. Tiny sparks of electricity crackled across my lips with each connection. 

It was so different than kissing Bill. He was rough and aggressive many times bruising my lips and face as he held me. Max held me like a China doll revering the delicateness. 

“Is this okay?” he asked softly. 

“Yes,” I whispered back.

His hands moved from my cheeks to my ears, and he continued to plant soft kisses on my face. He held me tight against him, and I felt the hard lean muscle under his shirt from long days of physical labor. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held onto him, as my knees grew weak. When his breath blew against my ear, I became undone. A moan escaped my lips as he nibbled on my lobe.

His stubble tickled me as he kissed his way back across my cheek before kissing each one of my eyelids with a final kiss on the tip of my nose. 

“I’m glad you’re staying.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“I like the idea of you being around.”

“I like you too, Max Brewer.”

“See, you had to go and ruin the moment and use my last name,” he huffed and released me taking a step back. 

“What? What did I do?”

“Nothing.” He hugged me again. “Actually, my name sounds nice on your lips.”

Max was an enigma. One I would enjoy discovering. 

The next few weeks were filled with auctions, rodeos, and Max. The warm weather had everyone riding, harvesting, and building things. In Dallas, I worked nine to five Monday through Friday, but here in Centerville, the early morning was for work, and the weekends were for rodeo. Except the weekend was no longer just Saturday and Sunday, rodeos ran from Wednesday to Sunday. 

I stretched in bed working out the knots in my back and sore legs from a weekend of riding. My participation in the rodeo was limited after the auctions, but Kristi asked me to represent the auction house and carry the sponsor flags during each night of opening ceremonies. The ride around the arena was merely a few minutes, but those five minutes meant hours of preparation. 

Fresh brands marked the horse's hindquarters, the themed color of the night adorned them, and we sat in full regalia in wait for our cue to ride in with our sponsor flags. Nervousness overcame me as blood rushed through my veins and pounded in my ears. I didn’t know that I would ever get used to the crowd or the cheers as we entered the arena and made our rounds with the sponsor flags. Stocks and Plots had bought and sold most of the cattle that was used for the rodeos at one point or another, and Kristi made sure they didn’t forget it. 

I had a full week’s worth of western gear complete with matching accessories. It was Aubs’ job to outfit me. Kristi said I had to look good and represent her well. I had to admit, dressing up had its perks. I didn’t at all feel awkward or out of place as the arena was filled to the brim with hats and boots. 

“Hey, you.” I felt a poke at my leg on the right side of my saddle. I turned to see the source. 

“Max, what are you doing here?” I had never seen Max in any other clothes besides jeans and T-shirts and he was head to toe in our cowboy bliss. His Mohawk was neatly tucked under his black felt hat. The deep green of his western wear shirt with silver buttons down the front and the pocket lapels made his eyes glimmer brightly. Deep, sharp creases ran from mid-thigh to ankle on his Wrangler jeans that firmly gripped his butt and gathered haphazardly at the top of his boots. 

“You think Stocks and Plots is the only sponsor for these things?” he said with a wink. Unfurling his flag, it draped across him revealing the crest of Brewer’s Taps. 

“Your dad’s bar?”

“What were you expecting … Budweiser frogs?”

“I wasn’t expecting you at all. Look at you all spiffy and starched.”

His stiff Wranglers hugged his hips, and his strong legs grounded in his stirrups with Luchesse boots.  

“Surprise.” His smile was infectious, and he rubbed his saddle against mine, leaning over to embrace my cheek. 

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Enough to keep you on your toes.”

The announcer’s voice boomed through the arena as the hosts’ riders galloped around the arena setting the pivot for the upcoming entry serpentine. Next, the American and Oklahoma flag bearers rode, galloping hard with the flags clapping and snapping in the midst of their current. The Centerville Rough Riders rode in two by two with buckles gleaming in the light of the setting sun. The previous years’ rodeo winners and up-and-coming favorite contenders from the host club sporting their matching team shirts. The reigning Rodeo Princesses of two years past circled as we waited our turn. Sponsor after sponsor galloped around the arena full throttle, their flags clapping in their wake. Brewer’s Taps was announced, and Max took off like a firecracker running red hot. Finally, it was Kristi’s and my turn. She came along side of me and said, “You ready, girl?”

The announcer introduced the proud lead sponsors, Stocks and Plots, and Kristi took the lead racing around the serpentine in the arena with me and Sunshine hot on her heels. After making our rounds, we stood at opposite ends of the line as the national anthem was sung. In the same order we entered, we departed out of the arena after making one last lap around waving our flags. 

Outside, we tied the horses to the trailer and gave them water before going back to enjoy the rest of the rodeo. I caught up with Max at Mike and Kelli’s trailer as he was finishing brushing out Treasure. It was a whole new side of Max I had yet to see.  

His smirk replaced the resting angry face he normally carried. I had seen it while he waited or stood around, but he turned to me and smirked or smiled and I melted. Max shut himself off to the world, but for some reason, had opened himself to me. 

Max surprised me with his two-step skills. I had never been one for dancing; Bill never allowed it. He much preferred to schmooze with the higher-ups of whatever party we were attending. We never just went dancing and cut loose. When I would mention it, he would scoff and say we were just dancing at so-and-so’s party and blow me off. Swaying to an obligatory slow song was not the same as the twirling Max was executing on the makeshift dance floor next to the rodeo arena. 

The local band, Knocking Boots, was keeping it lively and couples rounded the floor in two-step swirls. 

“Where did you learn how to dance?” 

“Are you kidding?” Max looked down at me with a questioning look with one brow perked. “Don’t like my dancing?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I just wondered where you learned. You’re very good.”

He looked over my shoulder as if the answer laid beyond then and now, and he had to look for the words. 

“My dad was gone a lot growing up, and it left me to be my mom’s dancing partner. She insisted I learn how to dance so I could woo the right girl.” He held me closer and stepped in-between my legs. Instead of twirling me, we moved as one. 

“How’s that working out for you?”

His face snapped back to mine in shock like he was slapped but softened as I smiled brightly back at him. He leaned down to me and whispered in my ear, “I will tell you in the morning.”

Wetness pooled between my legs at the thoughts of exactly what his statement promised. We swirled and swirled around the makeshift dance floor with the other paired-off couples until the band tempo slowed. A twangy slow song brought the couples closer together in embraces, and Max turned me to him holding me to his chest. I stiffened in his arms, and he looked down at me with concern in his eyes and furrowed brows. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, uh-huh, I’m fine, I was just catching my breath. That was quite a dance.”

“You like to dance?”

“I … I … wasn’t allow— I didn’t get to dance much.”

“Anytime you want me to swing you around, just let me know.”

He held me tighter, and his hands drifted from my waist to my hips and into the back pockets of my jean pockets. With his arousal pressed between us, I looked up to his hooded eyes, and he gently brought his lips to mine. The brim of his hat bumped my forehead, tipping it back, and I reached up to grab it. I replaced it on Max’s head and drew his lips back to meet my mouth. I opened my mouth in a sigh, and he delved his tongue into my mouth, taking advantage of every free space. Our dance slowed to a halt as the other couples continued to drift around us in slow sways. 

Laving my lips, outlining them with his own tongue from crease to crease, he traced my mouth as if trying to remember the path. The band picked up the pace with another two-step and a young teen couple bumped into us spinning their way across the dance floor. We laughed, and I tried to get out of the way of oncoming dance traffic, but Max held me fast and kissed me deeply again before dragging my lower lip out in his teeth. 

“Wanna get out of here?”

“Before we get trampled? Yes, please.”

We hurried off the dance floor and walked the path around the arena to the parking lot. We made our way past the lines of horse trailers, some with their horses still tied to them as their owners danced and drank the night away. Beyond the cattle pen, Kelli’s truck was parked behind the Stock and Plots building. I reached into my pocket for the key, and Max grasped my hand. 

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“Let me take you home.”

“I can drive. I wasn’t drinking. Not one sip.”

“Me neither. That’s not it. I want to take you home. Will you let me?”

My lips were still swollen from his kisses and my face flushed as he kicked at the dirt around his feet waiting for my reply.

“I understand if you don’t want me to. I will just—”

“I’m never going to be able to get out of this parking lot. I’m blocked in,” I interrupted before he could back away any further. “I have to come right back tomorrow anyway.”

He looked up and grinned widely and grasped my hand in his. I shoved my key back in my pocket and followed his lead to the street. 

"Where's your truck?" I asked, looking around for the pickup that had Brewer Construction on the side. 

"It's connected to my trailer. It will be fine overnight."

"Then how are we getting home?" He held my hand and guided me across the street and took a seat on a bright-green motorcycle.

"Oh, no, no way. I told you those things scare the crap out of me." I waved my hands in protest. 

"Come on. Do you trust me?" He held out a black skull-cap-style helmet. "I promise I won't even go fast."

I weighed my options. Walking the three miles or so back to the ranch in cowboy boots was surely no better than walking in sandals, or take a ride with Max. Reluctantly, and against my better judgment, I took the helmet from his hand and placed it on my head.