Colorado 01 The Gamble (5 page)

“Whatever,” I muttered and took a sip of
coffee.

Then I watched as he spooned sugar in the
oatmeal. One spoon. Two. Three. Four.

“Is that for me?” I asked on a rush when he
dipped in for spoon five.

His torso twisted and his eyes came to me.
“Yeah.”

He was making me oatmeal and I didn’t want
to seem ungrateful, so I muttered, “Um, I think four sugars will do
it.”

Two would do it, actually one would have
done it, but I’d settle for four.

“Your wish…” he muttered right back but he
sounded amused.

I decided to let that go too.

He put the oatmeal in the microwave started
it up and then headed back to the skillet. He flipped his eggs
expertly then using the fork, pulled the bacon out and, without
draining the grease off, he put it on a plate I hadn’t yet noticed.
The plate already had two slices of toast slathered in butter and
grape jelly.

Before I could stop myself, I announced in a
wistful voice, “I miss grape jelly.”

His head twisted toward me and he had an
expression on his face that looked like he thought I was funny at
the same time he was slightly confused. “You miss grape jelly?”

I took a sip of cranberry juice, surveyed
the microwave but didn’t answer. Talking to him was taking a lot of
concentration and energy, neither of which I had at that moment. It
was weird, he was acting like I’d been there a year, like we were
chums, like he didn’t practically throw me out of his house two
days ago, like he
liked
me.

You didn’t tease someone you didn’t like. At
least that was what my mother told me years ago when I’d come home,
complaining that all the boys teased me. She said boys teased girls
they liked and, one thing I learned in life, my mother was rarely,
if ever, wrong.

Max decided to let it go too and dumped his
eggs on the plate, turned off the burner, moved the skillet to a
different one and came to stand in front of me. He held his plate
aloft and started eating.

“You need to rest today,” he told me while
eating.

“Yes,” I agreed and I would rest that day
but I’d do that once I found a hotel in Denver.

He munched bacon before he bizarrely
informed me, “In the wall outside the bathroom upstairs is the TV.
You just slide open the doors. Same below it to get to the DVD
player. Got some DVDs down there. Remotes are in the
nightstand.”

I stared at him as he forked up some egg.
“Sorry?”

“You want to use the computer, the password
is Shauna444.”

“Um…” I mumbled then repeated, “Sorry?”

The microwave beeped, he set down his plate
and turned to the microwave, saying, “That’s with a ‘U’.”

I wasn’t following. “A ‘U’?”

He opened the microwave, got my bowl, walked
back to me, opened a drawer, dropped a spoon in the bowl and put it
in front of me.

“Shauna. With a ‘U’. S-h-a-u-n-a. Then 444.
All together.”

“But –”

“Computer’s in the roll top,” he went on,
picking up his plate and a rasher of bacon then his eyes went
beyond me to the window before he took a bite.

“Max, I think –”

“You bought enough food to feed an army. You
should be good for lunch.”

Oh my God. Did he think I was
staying
there?

“Max –”

He looked back at me. “You should go
bland; make sure you’re over it. Wouldn’t be good to have anything
rich in your stomach if you have a relapse.”

“Maybe we should –”

I heard a car door slam, I stopped talking
and twisted on my stool to look around. Outside, parked beside the
Cherokee, was one of those sporty mini-SUVs and making it sportier,
it was red. Bouncing up the steps was a young woman with a mass of
thick, gleaming, wavy, dark brown hair. She was wearing a baby
pink, poofy vest with a sky blue thermal under it with what looked
like tiny, pink polka dots on it. She had on faded jeans and they
were
tight
. She also
had on fluffy boots with big pom poms at the front that swung
around as she bounced up the steps. She was pretty. Very
pretty.

No, she was adorable. The epitome of a snow
bunny.

And she was very, very young. Way younger
than me. Way younger than what I suspected Max was.

I was thirty-six, he had to be my age, maybe
older, maybe younger, but not by much either way.

She looked twelve. Though since she could
drive, maybe she was sixteen.

She stopped on the porch and gave an
over-exaggerated, over-cheerful wave in our direction, bouncing up
on her toes. Even overdone, the wave looked adorable too, like it
came natural to her, which it probably did since she was likely a
cheerleader.

Good Lord.

“Becca,” Max muttered, I looked at him and
he folded a piece of toast in half and said. “I’m gonna be gone
awhile.” Then he took a bite out of the toast and turned toward the
sink.

“I –”

“
Hey!” A bright, cheerful,
young
, female
voice called from the doorway.

I turned to look and Becca was inside,
closing the door then she bounced toward the bar, her boot pom poms
swinging wildly.

“Hey Becca,” Max greeted.

“
Hey Max,” Becca called then she looked at
me and said, still bright, still cheerful, still
young,
“Hey there.”

“Hello.”

“You must be Nina,” she announced and I
couldn’t be sure but I think I gawped.

How did she know who I was?

Her eyes went around me. “She’s pretty,” she
told who I suspected was Max since he was the only other person
there then she looked back at me and her eyes fell to my chest
before she declared, still bright and cheerful and also somewhat
loud, “I dig that top! Where’d you get it? I gotta have one.”

“I –”

“You can shop, Bec, but it’d be a miracle
you find that top,” Max told her and she looked at him when he
finished, “and be able to afford it.”

I looked at Max and said, kind of snappish
mainly because of the way he’d said what he’d said, “It wasn’t that
expensive.”

“Since she’s gotta get on a plane and fly to
England to buy it, that makes it expensive,” Max returned.

He had me there.

“
England,
” Becca breathed but she did it brightly
and cheerfully.

“Um… yes,” I said to her.

“I forgot, Max told Mindy you were
English.”

Mindy? Who was Mindy? And why was Max
telling her about me?

“I’m not English,” I told Becca.

“
I
love
your accent.” She kept breathing.

“I don’t really have an accent.”

“It’s so cool!” she cried, her eyes going to
Max. “Isn’t it cool?”

“It’s cool,” Max agreed but he didn’t sound
like he thought it was cool, he sounded like he was trying not to
laugh.

I was going to look at him to see if he was
trying not to laugh and maybe ask what was so funny when Becca kept
my attention.

“
Oh my
God
. I’d
so
love to live
in a different country,” Becca declared. “You are
so
lucky.”

Me? Lucky? England was beautiful but…

“Though, I’d wanna live somewhere where it
doesn’t rain,” Becca decided.

“It does that,” I told her, “quite a
bit.”

“If I lived there, how long would it take me
to get an accent?” she asked.

“Um… I’m not sure,” I answered.

“I’d have to practice,” she declared.

I thought of a bright, cheerful, bouncy
American cheerleader going to England and practicing an accent.
Then I tried not to wince.

“I’m gonna get my boots,” Max said and I saw
he was rounding the counter.

“Max,” I called but he didn’t stop.

“Be back in a sec,” he said, not even
turning.

“So are all the clothes in England as cool
as that top?” Becca asked me.

“Um… not exactly,” I replied then asked,
“Can you hang on a second?” I had one finger pointed up then I
jumped off the stool and hurried after Max who’d disappeared up the
spiral staircase.

When I made it to the bedroom he was sitting
on the bed tugging on a boot.

“Max –”

He cut me off. “Extra sheets in the
closet.”

“Okay, but –”

He tugged on the second boot. “I don’t know
how long this’ll take, make yourself at home.”

“I’m leaving,” I said quickly, his head
arched back and he looked at me.

“What?”

“I’m going to Denver.”

“No you aren’t,” he replied and his answer,
which was firm, unyielding and also surprising, made me blink.

“I’m not?”

“Nope,” he said as he stood and he seemed
very tall and very big. He was, of course, very tall and very big
in the kitchen too but the kitchen was a brightly lit open space.
The loft wasn’t a brightly lit open space. It was more like a
brightly lit, intimate cocoon. His very tall, very big body seemed
to fill the loft, leaving very little room for me.

“But… I am.”

He walked to me and I resisted the urge to
retreat mainly because the spiral staircase was behind me and I’d
already spent two days sick in his house, I didn’t want to break my
neck there.

He stopped a foot away from me and said,
“You aren’t.”

I shook my head and asked, “Why?”

“You need to rest.”

“I’ll rest in Denver.”

“Drivin’ to Denver isn’t resting.”

“Okay, then I’ll get a hotel in town and
spend the night there, drive to Denver tomorrow.”

“You aren’t doin’ that either.”

“Why not?”

“Because you aren’t.”

I was beginning to get angry. I didn’t often
get angry mainly because I’d made my life so that not much happened
to me to get angry about. But I was definitely beginning to get
angry right then.

“Why?” I asked.

“Nina, I gotta get this done, I don’t have
time for this.”

He didn’t have time for this? Time for
what?

“Time for what?”

“Time to spar with you.”

Now I wasn’t angry, I was confused. “We’re…
sparring?”

“You’re off, you were better the other
night.”

“Better at what?”

He didn’t answer me, instead he repeated, “I
gotta go.”

“Max –” I started but he began to walk
around me so, instinctively, my hand shot out and my fingers curled
around his bicep.

He stopped but my body had frozen and my
eyes had dropped to his arm.

My fingers were there, holding what felt
an awful lot like steel. Niles didn’t have steely biceps. Niles had
soft, fleshy biceps. One would think steely biceps didn’t feel nice
but they didn’t only feel nice, they felt
nice.

“Nina,” Max called and I jumped and yanked
my hand away.

“I want to thank you, for being so nice
about me being… sick and, um… everything, but really, I have to
go.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, because.”

“Because why?”

Was he crazy?

I didn’t get it. Why did he want me to stay?
Two days ago he didn’t want me to stay. Why were we even having
this conversation?

“You’re home,” I reminded him.

“Yeah?”

“
And, well, we can’t
share
the house.”

“Why not?”

I didn’t have an answer for that because
it was such a bizarre question, I figured there
was
no answer.

Then I did, so I said, “I don’t know
you.”

To that, he grinned and it was a grin that
made me highly uncomfortable but in a weirdly good way.

“Duchess, I’ve seen you mostly naked.”

At his words I still felt uncomfortable
though no longer in a good way, weird or not. I also felt my eyes
get big, I felt my cheeks get hot and I felt my heart start
pounding.

Then I felt my blood pressure rise.

“Yes, this is true. You’ve seen that against
my will,” I reminded him.

“It wasn’t against your will.”

I leaned forward and snapped, “I was
unconscious!”

“There she is,” he muttered but he looked
bizarrely pleased.

“Who?” I snapped again.

He ignored my question and informed me
humiliatingly, “Last time I saw that body of yours, baby, you
lifted your arms for me yourself.”

I did do that, I remembered.

“I did not,” I lied.

“You did.”

“I was in the throes of a fever!” I said, my
voice getting loud.

“You still did it.”

I threw a hand out. “Okay, fine, you’ve seen
me naked. That doesn’t mean we know each other.”

“Slept with you too.” My mouth dropped open
and he asked, “Do you remember that?”

“No,” I whispered but I did.

“You wouldn’t let me go.”

Oh my
God
. I remembered that too.

“I will repeat, I was in the throes of a
fever.”

“Don’t care what you were in the throes of,
you take care of a sick person, you sleep with someone, you get to
know them.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“
You
don’t!
”

He rocked back on his heels and told me,
“You got a borin’ life so you got a wild hair up your ass, you’re
out here on some adventure, timeout, because you got a fiancé at
home who doesn’t give a shit about you.”

My head jerked and I stared. I didn’t
remember telling him
that
.
Any of it. Most especially about Niles.

“He gives a shit about me,” I whispered.

“Then why hasn’t your cell rang in two
days?” he asked.