To the Max (7 page)

“No way,” she objected, her back stiffening. “That’s the least I can do while I’m squatting in your gorgeous house.”

He rolled the cage into the living room. “You’re not squatting.”

“No, I’m not,” she agreed eagerly. “Because I’m going to be paying rent.”

Max snorted. Right. No way was that going to happen. But he didn’t want to get into a battle of wills. Taking advantage of Tango’s and Cash’s increased squeaking, he changed the subject. “They’re hungry. I’ll show you how to feed them.”

“What do they eat?” she asked.

He opened the fridge. “Veggies.”

“Now I understand,” Annie murmured while Max took out lettuce and a cucumber.

“What?”

“Their suicidal tendencies. I’d have them too if I had to eat greens all the time.”

He chuckled softly. Man, she was hilarious. Although she might have a point there.

Tango and Cash were waiting for the food, squeaking and grabbing the bars of the cage. “You put the plate in,” he said, handing it to Annie. He’d tried several times to leave it on the second floor to encourage them, but no dice.

As soon as he opened the door, they somersaulted. Annie jumped too.

“You okay, Ace?” By now his girls were going ballistic, leaning on the open door, and she was cringing.

“Do they come out?”

“If you are fast, they won’t.” Otherwise they would. That was why he’d named them Tango and Cash, for their escapist tendencies. He’d had to call an electrician several times after they chewed through the wiring. But he was going to keep that to himself. No need to scare her.

He wasn’t sure how she managed, but she did. She put the plate inside, even with Tango and Cash crowding her, and only a few pieces of cucumber got knocked off in her haste to take her hand out. “That went great. You’re a natural.”

She turned to him, snorting. “I sucked. I have a terrible record with animals, Max. Tomorrow I’m going to get health insurance for them. Just in case.”

“Well, I read guinea pigs have weak hearts and often die from heart attacks,” he said, moving back to the kitchen. “Just don’t spook them, and all will be fine. Something to drink?”

“Water, please.” Annie reached for her bun and unraveled it, her brown locks falling over her shoulders. She let out a long sigh and sat by the island.

“Tough day?” He opened a bottle of water for her and took the last beer.

“It’s crazy at work. I’d been falling behind because of the lack of sleep, and now I have tons to catch up on.”

He leaned on the counter. “What is it that you do?”

“I’m a forensic accountant. We audit big corporations and search for irregularities and such. Help them prevent fraudulent financial activity and creative banking.”

“So you’re like a detective. How interesting.”

She drank a little of her water. “I’m not sure about that. Lots of numbers, for sure. And lots of sitting in an office and staring at the computer screen. Nothing like your job. In which blockbuster are you going to be working on this time?”

“I’m going to be a Viking. We’re doing some shots in the studio, and then we’ll head for Canada.” To freeze his balls off, running around all but naked.

She lifted her gaze to his, a smile tugging at her lips. “Is it true that you find fans breaking into the crew’s rooms and trailers all the time?”

Max choked on a swig of beer. “Reading too many gossip magazines, are we?”

She shrugged. “No, but it’s Hollywood we’re talking about here.”

“It depends on the actors. If you’re filming with someone like Johnny Depp, better be ready for mayhem. One of my colleagues went to bed after an exhausting day of filming in the desert and almost had a heart attack when he realized something was crawling up his leg. It turned out to be a naked girl. She pointed a flashlight straight at his face, then at his junk, and said, ‘Sorry. Wrong trailer,’ and left.”

Annie let out a laugh. “Really?”

He nodded. “During the last movie, I was confused several times with the lead actor, and some crazy chicks threw their bras at me.” One set of panties too.

“Now, that’s an interesting job. How did you end up being a stuntman? That’s a far cry from a boob enhancer.”

“Believe it or not, I have Cole and Mike to thank for it. When I came back from the military, I was a bit messed up.” Well, he hadn’t been a bit messed up; he’d been a total wacko. He’d been finishing his first deployment in a Marine recon unit when his patrol walked into a trap. He’d lasted four years in the military. Cole had been in for twelve. He didn’t know how guys like his oldest brother did it. “Anyhow, Cole was riding my ass about my recklessness with extreme sports. When he realized I wasn’t going to stop, he and Mike put me in contact with this guy who was working as a stunt coordinator in Hollywood. I get to do the same crazy things, but now they’re supervised. And I get paid handsomely for it.” Not to mention it got Cole off his back. Big plus.

The doorbell interrupted him. “Pizza’s here.”

“I pay,” she said, jumping off the stool.

“Nope. My house. My rules.” Ignoring her complaints, Max walked to the front door and looked through the peephole. “I don’t think we have to fight over who pays.”

“Why? Who’s there?”

Christy and Cole. She was holding the two pizzas they must have snatched from the delivery guy. He was hoisting a six-pack in one hand and, in the other, a bag of what looked like Aunt Maggie’s Tupperware full of her home cooking. “The welcome wagon for you. The good-bye party for me.”

Chapter Four

“I loved the book, but I have to say, some of the historical inconsistencies disturbed me,” Lucy, the woman who ran the post office, stated.

Angie snorted. “Really? Because I can’t speak for the historical inconsistencies. I didn’t notice them, but the hero’s two-foot-long…manhood disturbed the hell out of me.”

The giggles spread all over the reading room. None of them were above calling it a dick or more creative names—all the other meetings had proved it—but that was what the virginal heroine of this particular book loved to call it. Ad nauseam.

“Didn’t know those existed. I feel cheated,” Angie continued. “And scared.”

“You’re a shrink,” Rachel told her. “You have the tools to get over it faster than the rest of us.”

Well, if it was a question of tools, then Rachel, with the monster trucks she worked on in her garage, was ahead of all of them.

“I don’t recall the book giving an exact measurement,” Penny chimed in. “Then again, I was blushing for half the book. I might have missed it.”

“Well, let’s see. The thing reached his belly button and then some.” Angie started gesturing. “Give or take, two feet. No wonder Lady Margaret tried to run away from him. I might have too.”

Holly shook her head, chuckling. “To be two feet long, it should reach his nipples. And be able to flick them.”

“Ha! Wouldn’t be that a nifty trick.
Look what I can do, my lady: flick my own beams
,” Angie said, trying to imitate the Scottish brogue.

“
Beams
would have been a huge historical inaccuracy,” Lucy murmured.

Everyone broke into laughter.

“Talk all you want, but I was hooked from the get-go,” Holly said. “All that ‘aye, lass,’ ‘nay, lass.’ Man, so sexy. I adore authoritarian men. I know the idea here is to read, but I might get the audiobook. From now on, doing laundry and housework is going to be a whole new ball game. I would take it to the office, but the sheriff might suspect something if I start panting.”

For what it was worth, Annie totally agreed. All that barbaric, barely repressed strength and the surprising tenderness that lay hidden inside enthralled her. Nothing like the soft-mannered, white-collar guys she always went out with.

Several women nodded, including Rachel. “I’m in. I get so sweaty at work, no one would notice the difference.”

“What I wouldn’t give for my own Highlander,” Holly continued. “I loved the scene when he wanted to show his displeasure with Lady Margaret for not obeying him and decided to ignore her. She started taking off all those English, ladylike clothes, standing in front of him in her frilly underwear, and he succumbed. Mighty, badass hero, and he fell to his knees.”

Yep. Mighty badass hero falling to his knees had given Annie goose bumps all over.

“Lingerie always works,” Angie agreed. “Even the English, prudish kind. And I bet they were short of that in the Highlands.”

Penny shook her head. “Lingerie doesn’t always work. Believe me.”

Everyone turned to her. “What do you mean?”

Penny sighed. “Ten years ago, I tried the sexy lingerie trick with my late husband. We’d been married twenty years, and things had slowed down a lot, specially since he’d grown more boobs than me. Anyhow, I bought skintight black latex pants, a suggestive bustier with a see-through shawl, and a cute black mask—you know, to spice things up. When Joe came home from work, he took a look at me and said, ‘Yo, Batman, what’s for dinner?’”

There was a second of silence, and then the whole room erupted in laughter.

Penny nodded, resigned. “I’m serious. The girlfriend who suggested I try lingerie said her husband ravished her on the spot. Against the wall where he saw her. Mine went straight to sit on the couch. I never tried lingerie again.”

“Maybe you should have gone for some role-playing,” Christy suggested.

Penny lifted her eyebrow. “Meaning me Batman, he Boy Wonder?”

“Or he could have been the Joker,” Angie offered.

“Oh, that he was, believe me,” Penny answered with a pout.

Annie was laughing so hard her sides hurt.

“Once he asked me why I never told him when I had an orgasm. How could I? He was never there when that happened.”

After those comments, everything deteriorated fast. They always started by talking about the book, and what they liked or didn’t like, but in the end, it moved into more personal matters. Thank God Cole’s renovation had been thorough and the walls kept sounds insulated from the main reading room. Otherwise Mrs. Wilkinson would have had them all arrested.

After the meeting ended, Holly turned to Annie. “We’re going for a coffee. You coming?”

“Thanks, but I’m beat.” Now that she wasn’t puking all the time and was getting some sleep, she’d realized how far behind she’d fallen at the office. Not to mention half the audits she’d done in the last month had to be checked over. “Besides, I’ve got to go home to feed the beasts.”

“How’s it going?”

“Fine.” She hadn’t decided yet whether to be mad at Max or to thank him for his consideration, but the day after he left, Mike had come over, asking if she needed help with the animals. He even offered to take them with him. She’d refused. It had been difficult, but she’d done it.

And now, after a week of dealing with them, she had to admit Tango and Cash were…entertaining. If they hadn’t been locked in a cage, Annie was sure they would have come to the door to welcome her. Damn social. Every time she moved to one side, they’d follow her, popcorning and squeaking like there was no tomorrow.

That evening wasn’t an exception. As soon as she opened the front door, the squeaks got louder and louder. When she reached the guinea pigs, they were grabbing the bars.

She put a rather trembling finger on Tango and petted her. Annie was ready to flee if the animal showed even the slightest hint of moving her head and those two big teeth, but Tango went still and suddenly started purring. Oh God, the rat-rabbit-whatever was purring!

Annie took out her cell and unlocked it. She composed a text message and hit Send.
Yo, Boob Enhancer. We have a problem.

She got an answer as she was getting the veggie platter ready.

Yo, Pregnant Lady. What’s up?

She chuckled softly at his epithet.

Your rats have a neurological disorder. They think they’re cats. They purr.

When she cooked meat, they went up on two legs, put their noses in the air, and squeaked like crazy. Vegetarians, her butt.

Yep. My aunt’s cat’s fault
was Max’s response.
They got along great. Too great if you ask me, and now my girls think they’re cats. If you put them on your chest, they start purring and eventually fall asleep, belly up. Try it.

Sure, like there was a chance she’d put them on her chest. Before she could answer anything, her phone beeped again.

Are they still throwing themselves into the void, or have they reached the second floor?

Still suicidal, but I’m working on it
. The little devil on her left shoulder smiled, and she typed quickly,
Forget veggies. I’m frying them some meat and putting it on the second floor. If that doesn’t work, I’ll go straight for chocolate. Coffee is a good motivator too. It might make them speedy. More speedy.

You’re kidding, right?
was his response.
I’m sending Mike over.

Annie laughed.
Of course I’m kidding! Relax, they’re safe with me. I swear. They’re okay.

What about you, Ace? Is the fetus behaving, or are you puking all over the place?

As a matter of fact, her fetus loved it there. And she’d hired Paige, Tate’s Gothic waitress, to work rotating shifts with Megan, so Annie hadn’t had to set foot in Sweets and Tweets. She still didn’t know how Paige had found out. She’d mysteriously appeared in the store one day after Max had left. Neither Paige nor Max were talking, but Annie was sure he’d had his hand in it. Not that she had a single complaint; Paige was great, and she didn’t have to be at Rosita’s until the evening, so all and all she was happy.

Fetus behaving. No puking.

Now that she wasn’t throwing up, though, she was craving crispy bacon nonstop.

Good to hear. How’s my aunt treating you? Has she paid you a visit already?

Annie snorted.
She was here the very first day after you left. Filled the kitchen up. And the extra freezer in your garage.

Max had been right; in this house, food appeared faster than one could eat it.

Told you, Ace. Got to go. We’re getting ready to rampage and pillage.

Do your worst
. Then she added,
Be safe.