Weekends in Carolina (14 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

T
REY
WAS
WORKING
in his apartment when his cell phone rang. The number on the screen was one he’d known by heart since childhood. Despite knowing that Max was on the other end of the line, he had to overcome instinct before answering. And still, her voice instead of his father’s was a surprise.

“I’m...I’m going to buy the farm.” The fear in her voice had a simmering quality to it. Her anxiety was no longer making her decision for her, but neither Max nor her nerves were comfortable with the change from tyranny to rule by reason and law. “Only, could we wait until later in the year to make it official? My workload increases in the spring and in the summer I’ll barely have time to think, much less to find a mortgage and a lawyer and...”

“Fine.”

“Fine? You wanted to get the farm out of your hands as soon as possible.”

“I also gave you until December. You still have until December.” He still had until December to drive down and memorize her features.

“Okay, then.” She paused. “You’re not worried I’m going to back out?”

Her relief at his acquiescence seemed more substantial than her fear had been. And while he had a hard time merging the woman confidently standing in the yard shooting cans with the woman afraid to put all her eggs in one basket, they were the same woman. And the Max he’d met first wouldn’t back down.

Of course, when he’d met that woman, he wouldn’t have been willing to wait until December. But they were both different people than who they’d been the day they met, and her fierceness was more interesting now that he knew she fought for it. “Have you checked your email?”

“No.”

“Check your email. Then call me back.”

While he was waiting, Trey got up from his desk and got himself a glass of water. Then got out some crackers and the tub of pimento cheese. He couldn’t face the work he had to do. Not while his head was still in Durham.

Finally, his phone rang again. “What do you think?” he said by way of an answer.

“Um, you can’t use Kickstarter funds to buy real estate.”

“You’re still thinking in terms of can’t. Think in terms of can.” The coup d’état in her emotions wasn’t complete yet. “What projects
can
you use the Kickstarter funds for?”

There was a short moment of silence on the other end of the line. “I can,” she said the words slowly as the possibilities were coming to her, “use the Kickstarter money to renovate the old tobacco barn.”

Trey wished he could see her face as the potential hit her. The white of her skin under her freckles would brighten and her eyes would take on a deep green color as the power she carried with her internally took over. “And if I have money left over, I need a new tractor and refrigerator building. I could do this.”

The wheels in her head rolled over the phone line and through the cell signal, mowing down all the obstacles in her way. Max had been waiting to grasp on to her future, and something had given her the go-ahead.

And he wanted to be a part of it. More than suggesting Kickstarter and watching from the sidelines, more than helping her find a mortgage. Trey wanted to be an integral part of her strength. He’d been drawn into government and then lobbying because he liked the fight. Arguing to hear yourself yell was okay. Debating to win was better. Fighting for the slightest change that gave someone an opportunity or incentive to better themselves was the tops.

It had been a long time since he’d been a part of one person grabbing on to a better future.

“What can I do to help?”

“I’ve never done much with Kickstarter other than donate to some of the businesses in Durham. Maybe we can brainstorm ideas. I can set up a Google docs folder for us. If we do this, I don’t want to
not
have the project fully funded. I don’t want to get my hopes up with each penny only to watch it all get returned.”

Trey considered her practical suggestion. She could do the research that needed to be done in North Carolina. He could supplement from D.C. But then he wouldn’t have such a hand in the project. Or the excuse to count her freckles.

“I’ll do you one better. I’ll come down next weekend. We’ll draft a strategy for this money-raising business.” Trey smiled to himself. “I’m good at convincing people to do things.”

* * *

M
AX
HAD
JUST
gotten out the dust rag when Kelly and Sean stepped into the kitchen. Sean looked happy and as relaxed as she’d ever seen him around another person. Kelly was looking at Sean like he was the sun, the soil and the rain. Max shoved the rag behind her back, then decided that move was too obvious and reached for the dust spray.

“Who ya’ dusting for?” Kelly may be stupid in love, but he wasn’t blind.

She could either lie outright, or admit to herself that she was cleaning the farmhouse because Trey was coming to visit. She was about to say, “Miss Lois,” when Sean said, “It looks to me like she’s cleaning for a lover.”

Kelly’s gaze shot from Sean to Max and then back to Sean. “So not only does Trey have the hots for you, but you have the hots for him, too.”

“We’re going to discuss a Kickstarter campaign.”

“Is that what the heterosexuals are calling it these days?” Sean asked with a raised brow. Max wished he’d go back to being silent and borderline sullen.

“Your brother will never move farther south of D.C. than Alexandria, Virginia. Any relationship we have is casual and won’t go anywhere.” Though she was wondering if she should clean the floors and vacuum under the couch. She had imagined them having sex on the couch as soon as Trey walked through the door. Making it to the bedroom would give her too much time to
think
.

Kelly slipped his hand into Sean’s and started swinging them. She was pretty sure he didn’t even realize he was doing it, though Sean seemed self-conscious about it. Cleaning up for Trey’s visit now felt hollow. She’d agreed with him that this relationship couldn’t go anywhere—but she always wanted hand-holding.

“You know—” Kelly’s voice brought Max’s thoughts back to the present “—Trey grew up in this house and my mom was too busy to clean. Hell, Dad only cleaned when stuff started to stink and Aunt Lois made Trey clean that bathroom. He ain’t gonna notice a little dust.”

“But
I
live in this house now.” And it would be
her
house by the end of the year. And she intended to take pride in every clean crevice. “Something neither of you Harris boys seem to ever notice.”

Kelly shrugged. “Should I start knocking?”

“No.” Riling up an infatuated man was impossible. “Ashes will bark and I’ll have to come let you in.”

“Then what are you so upset over?”

“Nothing, I guess.” Or nothing she would admit to Kelly. In truth, she was terrified that Trey
was
coming down to work on their Kickstarter and nothing else.

* * *

M
AX
PACED
THE
front porch of the farmhouse, watching the main road for Trey’s car. The confidence she’d felt yesterday had dissolved, but she’d made a decision. Waffling now would spell disaster. She reached back to pull her hair into a ponytail and was rewarded by the hairband breaking and snapping the inside of her wrist. After she shoved the broken band into her left pocket, she reached into her right pocket for another. And broke that one, too. Between her anxiety and her curls, she’d break every hairband in her house if she wasn’t careful.

She dug the first broken hairband out of her pocket and turned toward the door. At the first stomp of her feet, she took a deep breath, then another, more controlled step. When she stepped out of the bathroom, five new hairbands in her pocket, Trey was standing in her kitchen, drinking a glass of water.

“I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I know. You were muttering to yourself about something.”

She’d been cursing her hair, Hank, Trey, her nerves and herself—but mostly her hair. Looking at Trey, confident and helpful in his suit and tie, cursing him seemed spiteful. After she got her hair into a ponytail without breaking the hairband, even cursing her hair seemed silly.

His gaze was hungry and intent as he put down his glass, but he didn’t take a step toward her. He didn’t have to. The way he looked at her was enough to make her belly tingle, and it wasn’t until one side of his mouth kicked up in a smile that she realized her hands were still up about her head. She lowered them, feeling desired, desirous and silly all at the same time.

“You don’t have to lower your hands on my account,” he said as he stalked over to her. He didn’t touch her, but she could feel him just the same, the sensation of his closeness overwhelming her silliness and leaving nothing but longing in its place.

The dangerous wanting pushed her back until she hit the wall. Trey looked relaxed. Comfortable. And also feral. He caught her wrists, one in each hand and lifted her hands over her head, forcing her breasts out against her shirt.

“There,” he said with satisfaction. He gathered her wrists in one hand, sliding the other down her arm until he had hold of her waist. His gaze was intent on her breasts, like he could see through her shirt. “The view is better up close.”

It didn’t matter that his dark brows and thick lashes hid his eyes from view, their heat flushed her skin first a pale pink and then a dark red as the burn sank from her breasts to the juncture of her thighs. When he raised his face to look at her, the warmth spread through the rest of her body.

Bubbling along with her desire was the thought that between her freckles, carroty hair and now flushed skin she must look a fiery mess.

She leaned forward to kiss him.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

S
HE
’
S
AS
HOT
as she looks,
Trey thought when her lips touched his. He gripped Max’s waist and wrists tighter, unwilling to let her go for fear that she’d start thinking and he’d end up
fine
again.

But she didn’t pull back. She pushed her breasts forward, her arms straining against his hold of her wrists. His thumb was caught between the firm muscles of her belly and the leather of his belt. The uncompromising strength of a person—a woman—who made her money through physical labor was pressed against him and he wanted, desperately, to be a part of her.

She cocked her head and slid her tongue inside his mouth, running it along the edges of his teeth. There was no hesitation in her now. This was the woman who’d stalked across
his
land, a rifle in her hand, demanding a justification from him for why he was there. This was the steel he’d sensed inside her. The silly freckles and soft, wild hair hid the hard core, but when she let her guard down, let him really look into her eyes, he saw determination, not fear.

And she was letting him hold her hands above her head. She was backed up against the kitchen wall, and instead of fighting him, she was inviting him in.

Trey slid his hand back up the side of her body and along the underside of her arms until he again had two hands on her wrists. As his fingertips had tickled her underarms, her shivers had echoed through his bones. He was hard, straining against the fly of his pants.

He pulled away from her, just enough so that he could speak. “I didn’t come down here for this.”

“What did you come down here for, then?” She smiled and closed the gap between them again, daring him to argue with her.

To help you strategize,
his mind said, lying to both of them. He could strategize with her over the phone and by email. He’d come here to be with her. “Okay. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t
considered
...” The words stopped when she licked her lips.

She twisted her wrists and he released her hands. Despite her attempt at a ponytail, her hair had exploded about her face and her eyes matched its fire. Her hands landed on his shoulders, her grip strong. She took a step forward, pushing him along in front of her until his backside hit the kitchen table. He turned and half sat, while being half pushed into a chair by Max. Only when she’d trapped him as thoroughly as he’d trapped her did she pull her hands from his shoulders. Her eyes were wide and fearless as she sat astride him, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt.

“Let me help...”

She swatted his hands away before he could finish his sentence. “You have better uses for your hands.”

He obeyed, pulling her T-shirt out from between them where it had gotten caught and running his hands along her soft skin. He imagined he could feel her freckles under his fingertips, guiding him along the contours of her body as her thighs tensed around his. Her eyes were half-closed and her mouth was open, her tongue resting between her teeth. She looked
wanting
. Instead of thinking about his erection pressed against the seam of his pants, he focused on the sensations of her skin against his hands, determined to let her have all the control.

She’d reached the end of his shirt buttons and had to scoot back before she had access to his fly. A pop of his button and a rasp of his zipper and his erection was released. He closed his eyes and sighed. His pleasure was short-lived. Max’s weight shifted, then her warmth was gone from his lap. When he opened his eyes, her backside was walking away from him.

“Um,” he said, not certain what had gone wrong last time and not wanting to repeat that experience. He was sitting in his family’s farmhouse kitchen, his pants undone and his erection pushing the fly of his boxers open. Despite feeling vulnerable, he didn’t want to move in case Max came back.

When she came through the doorway, she held up a little square of foil and smiled wickedly at him. But she didn’t walk immediately over to the chair. Instead, she put the condom between her teeth, reached for her jeans and wiggled out of them. For all that he was able to move, he might as well have been tied to the chair. Her pants pooled at her feet, followed by her panties. She stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her T-shirt brushing the top of her dark red thatch of hair, with nothing but white skin and freckles below it.

He was afraid to move—afraid this might be a dream. She was a hot, dirty fantasy and she was walking toward him.

Her intense, catlike eyes locked on his and he couldn’t lower his gaze to appreciate the glory of her naked legs even if he wanted to. Even though she was the one moving toward him, he felt like he was the one being reeled in like a fish.

The muscles in his thighs tightened in anticipation when she stood in front of him, her pussy just below eye level and the smell of her overpowering him. He gripped the side of the chair, levering his hips up as she pulled his pants and boxers out from under him. His clothes fell around his feet, as effective as shackles keeping him there. If she ran, he couldn’t catch her, though he’d probably trip and smash onto his face trying.

She brought the condom back up to her teeth. The sound of the foil tearing trembled around his head and through his blood, the anticipation of what was to come making him harder. When she finally rolled the condom down over him, the way her skin brushed lightly against his seized the air from his lungs. She straddled him. The tendons at the juncture of her hips shifted and the muscles in her thighs pulsed. If he could let go of the chair, he’d lift her shirt up over her head and lick her freckles. But he couldn’t lift his hands.

She lowered herself onto him with a groan, her arms balanced on his shoulders and her hands grasping onto the back of the chair behind him. Her muscles tightened around him. Oxygen wrenched from his throat in a loud gasp that released the pressure keeping his hands adhered to the chair. He shoved his hands under her shirt and rested them on her waist, her skin slipping and sliding against his palms as she rode him.

In response to his scooting forward in the chair and changing the angle of their connection, she leaned back into his fingers with a heavy moan. Her breasts jutted up against her T-shirt. He was no longer able to resist her nipples, which were hard and visible through the thin cotton of her shirt and whatever bra she wore. With a slight push of his fingers, she was forward enough that he could take the peak of one of her nipples in his mouth. He sucked in, hard, and her entire body bucked against his. His balls tightened. Any blood that had been left in the rest of his body rushed to his dick. He clenched his teeth against his coming orgasm. When he came, it was going to be so hard he wasn’t sure he’d be able to move from this chair to put his pants on even if the ghost of his father walked through the door.

Her legs tensed and gripped his. Her breaths started emerging in short bursts. She lifted up a little off the chair, stiff, with her head falling back and her mouth open in pleasure. With her close to release, he tightened his butt muscles to push himself up higher and pulled down on her with his hands, plunging himself deeper into her and making her suck in her breath. She shivered. First a gentle shiver and then a shudder passed through her until she went boneless. Her head fell forward, but she caught herself before hitting her forehead on the back of his chair.

He held his breath for several seconds, concentrating on the movement of her nipples under her shirt. Finally, her head shifted in his peripheral vision and her tongue brushed against his neck. He pulled her shirt over her head, then leaned back in his chair to feast his eyes on the way her mottled skin flushed under his attention. Then he pressed his face between her breasts so he could smell the sweat on her skin and came in rolling, hard waves.

When he could finally take a breath, he said, “I’ll admit I came down here with something more than strategy in mind, but I don’t think I could have imagined that.”

She chuckled. The vibrations rumbled through her, providing enough sensation that he stiffened inside her again. “Kickstarter was a good idea.”

“Up.” He put his hands under her arms and lifted her off him. “I’ve got to dispose of this or it ceases to be useful. We can do that again tonight and I can hold you afterward. Also, my legs are starting to fall asleep.”

The movement of her lifting off him released a spicy, earthy smell into the air. The scent of sex, strong and soft at the same time, much how he imagined Max to be.

* * *

E
MPTINESS
RUSHED
INTO
her as she pulled herself off Trey. It wasn’t just the loss of his fullness inside her, but physical energy had been drained out of her.

What did I just do?
As she walked naked across the kitchen to her pants, she was conscious of the open curtains. The lights were on in the kitchen. Dark was falling outside. Any one of her interns could have come by to say goodbye and seen them.

“Don’t think so much,” said a voice from behind her. “This doesn’t have to change our original agreement if we don’t let it.” She whipped around to face Trey, who was standing next to her, his pants on and zipped, though his shirt was still unbuttoned. How long had she been standing there holding her clothes?

And she had been worried about being caught having sex! Being caught in the act was far preferable to being caught afterward, clothes clutched in her hands and bewilderment on her face. Max turned back around and shoved her pants on, leaving her panties for later. The soft cloth of the T-shirt hit her shoulder. Trey let out a soft harrumph when she yanked it from his hand.

This time when she turned around to face Trey, she opened her mouth to let loose the reassurances while preparing her mind to stop the self-doubt from gaining a foothold in her mind. But no reassurances came out of her mouth. Nor did the self-berating creep into her mind. When they crawled into bed tonight, she was going to crawl all over him.

“I’m not thinking too much and I wasn’t worried about
that
.” Even though the last part was a lie, the words came more confidently now that she had clothes on. “I’m thinking about what to eat for dinner.”

“What do you have?”

“Eggs. The only fresh veggies I’ve got now are greens and sweet potatoes. I was thinking that tomorrow we could go downtown to talk with some of the other food folks in Durham who’ve done a Kickstarter. Then we could get some ice cream and a nice steak for dinner. Maybe a loaf of polenta bread.”

“Since when did downtown Durham have places to buy ice cream, steak and polenta bread?”

“Your hometown has changed a lot since you’ve been gone. It’s changed a lot since I’ve been here.” When she’d moved to Durham, the downtown area was mostly boarded-up buildings with good bones and attractive facades, and the farmers’ market had been in a parking lot. Now the downtown area was bustling with bars and restaurants. There was a new performing arts center and pedestrians were out at all hours of the day and night. More important for her, the farmers’ market had a permanent home. Summer Saturdays at the market were a social occasion with people chatting up their favorite farmer, browsing art at the market across the street and eating their favorite items off the food trucks.

“Hmm...” and a slight cloud passing over his face was Trey’s only response. “If you put the sweet potatoes in the oven, I’ll start washing the greens. We can fry some eggs for the top and call it dinner.”

Two male voices yelling outside interrupted her reply. As was her new usual, Max closed her ears to the noises. Instead of trying to be heard over the squabbling beyond the walls, she nodded her agreement and headed to the bathroom to wash up, tossing her panties in the hamper on her way.

When she came out of the bathroom, Trey was standing on the enclosed porch. Without the thicker walls of the house, the argument happening in the driveway was clearer.

“Fuck you and this entire silent act you’ve got going” rang loud and clear through the drafty wood. “And don’t think I can’t smell the booze just because it’s vodka.” A car door slammed. Tires peeled out, gravel pinging in all directions as the rubber spit the small rocks out like rotten food.

“Was that my brother?” Trey asked, a confused look on his face as he stared in the direction of Chicken Bridge Road.

Max sighed. Sean had never once been late or shirked any of his work, but he also drank more than he should. And was sleeping with her landlord’s brother.

A frustrated yell reverberated off the porch walls, followed closely by the sound of something hard being kicked. The noise woke up Ashes and he yelped in the living room.

“Yes, that was Kelly.” She’d been pleased when Kelly and Sean had struck up a romantic relationship until she’d noticed Sean’s pile of beer cans. Now she wasn’t so sure what she thought. “Didn’t you see his car when you drove up?”

“Yes, I...” Trey stopped talking, a sheepish look on his face. “I thought I’d find him in the kitchen. Then I found only you and I forgot all about Kelly.”

“Yes, well...” She would be upset that he’d had sex with her thinking his brother could walk in, but she’d been the one to shove him onto the chair and strip off his pants. And she’d known Kelly was around and liable to walk in the door at any moment. Of course all coherent thought had fled her mind for higher ground when Trey had looked at her with desire hot in his eyes.

“Kelly and Sean are...” Another sentence she didn’t know how to finish. “Involved,” she said, picking the best word she could find. The word
dating
implied that they went out together, which Max had never seen. And Kelly seemed more infatuated than Sean, which, when added to the drinking, meant Max worried about him. How do you tell a grown man not to give away the milk because then men won’t buy the cow? Especially when she was involved in a relationship of questionable sanity herself.

Trey had been looking at her while she’d been talking, but his gaze eased back to the direction of the main road, where his brother had gone. “As far as I know, Kelly hasn’t been in a serious relationship since Mom died.”