Cocky Romance: Chapter 15

There’s a sizzle in the air that I can actually hear whenever Max looks at me.

I’m not sure when I became so in-tuned to him but, earlier, during the photoshoot, I found myself looking at him way more than I would in the past. Maybe it’s because he hasn’t been to one of these photoshoots in a really long time. Or maybe I’m letting my feelings get ahead of me.

I’m still trying to wrap my brain around his confession.

We argue with each other as naturally as we breathe. It’s not like that part of our relationship can change in a day. Just because there’s an attraction doesn’t mean we’re suited for a relationship either.

What if he figures that out? What if last night was just a spur of the moment thing, inspired by the starry night and the vulnerability he felt after sharing his story about his mother?

Last night, I tried to prepare myself for the inevitability of Max taking back his words.

Then I prepared myself for what life would be like if he didn’t. What would all that intensity feel like pointed at me?

It both thrilled and frightened me.

Max is raw, unrestrained power.

He does everything with a brusqueness, a fearlessness. The ferocity of an angry tiger.

What would love look like in his eyes? In his manner?

Turns out, it’s just as rough as the rest of him. Just as pushy and obnoxious and irresistibly intimidating. During the photoshoot, he watched me like he would pounce to his feet, cross the room and defend me if I so much as pricked my finger on the car engine. He barked out an order to get me water as if he would flay everyone and use their bodies as a human bridge to get to the water cooler.

I should be scared of that passion, but I’m not.

I’m excited.

Giddy.

Alive.

But I can’t run away with those feelings. The ‘leave it all up to chance’ part of my heart is what got me pregnant in the first place. I need to fold up my impulsiveness and put it back where it belongs, no matter what.

I’m a woman, yes. But I’m a mother first.

Beth is always my priority and introducing a relationship to her—

Especially with a man who has ties to Stinton Group—

Who is Stinton Group—

Sure, Max isn’t to blame for what happened in the past. As Sunny suspected, he had nothing to do with those lawyers who pressured me to get rid of my baby. He’s not that big of a douchebag and I’m really freaking relieved about that. But there are still so many problems in front of us.

Namely, he’s still Beth’s uncle.

I can’t afford to let this electric spark carry me away and find out I made a mistake after. My daughter deserves better than that.

I do too.

So why am I still so eager to see him?

“Can you just… can you not move for a second?” The makeup artist dots at my face with her brush. They’re changing my makeup for the other show that I’m filming.

I jerk my face up.

She gives me a stern look.

“Sorry.” I try to stop squirming, but my excitement leaks out in the jitter of my knee.

My heart hasn’t pounded like this in a decade.

I hope Max hasn’t left yet. Should I text him?

There’s a light tap on the door of the makeup room.

I glance up and the man at the center of my thoughts is standing in the doorway. Max Stinton prowls into the room, all scowls and confidence. His eyes are stormy with frustration. A dark cloud spitting lightning seems to follow him. If he swung a black cape and bared his fangs, he would have looked less intimidating.

Sometimes, I wonder if I went and fell for the villain of the story instead of the knight on the white horse.

The makeup assistant straightens and casts Max a frightened stare. “Mr. Stinton.”

“I need the room,” he says brusquely.

I narrow my eyes at him.

He purses his lips what?

I arch an eyebrow and push my lips out toward the makeup assistant who’s shaking in her boots.

Max sighs, twists his expression into what he probably thinks is a less intimidating stare (it’s not), and nods. “Excuse me. Can I have the room?”

“Ehem.” I clear my throat.

“… Please.”

“S-sure.” She sets the makeup brush on the desk and scurries away.

The door clicks shut behind her.

As silence settles, I give Max a surveying look. He’s wearing a suit again, a strict departure from the more casual button-down and jeans he was wearing last night. The pinstripe design on his jacket highlights the broadness of his shoulders and those long, long legs. His belt and shoes match the dark tones of his hair.

My eyes fix on his mouth—

Is it getting hot in here?

One glimpse at those pink lips and my blood boils to a thousand degrees.

I can’t unsee the moment he devoured me beneath the stars.

I can’t help but remember how firm his body was beneath my hand as I raked my nails over his shirt.

No matter how much I told myself to tame my passion, I ended up flinging myself at him again. And again. A surge of longing that couldn’t be contained and refused to be tempered.

Max brings out all those forbidden feelings in me. My heart, the rebel that it is, starts beating faster when I notice he’s glaring at my lips. He’s definitely obsessed with that particular part of my body. Wait… is that why he’s always staring at my face?

“Did you need something?” I try to ignore the tingly feelings spreading through my stomach. Just because Max and I are alone in a room doesn’t mean anything has to happen.

I mean, I wouldn’t mind if it did.

But it doesn’t have to.

His eyes narrow. A hawk spying a mouse. “I wanted to attend the taping with you, but I can’t.”

“That’s fine.” I turn to the mirror and fiddle with my earring. The stylist blended gold into my cheekbones again. According to the head makeup artist, gold is my super-color. My eyelids are dusted with hints of red and it matches the flaming shade of my lips. My normally frizzy afro has been tamed with water, a hard brush and half a bucket of gel. My curls are spiraling down my back.

I felt pretty before Max came in.

One look at him though, and I feel like a vision.

His eyes rove my face hungrily. My mouth nearly hurts from the pressure of his gaze, but he doesn’t move from the door.

I arch an eyebrow. “Is that all you wanted to say?”

“No.”

My lips curve up knowingly.

I wait for him to continue.

He still doesn’t.

Pushing up from my chair, I lean a hand against the desk and tease, “Did you rush in here just to glare at me? Because if you did, that’s annoying.”

“I didn’t know my mere presence was annoying.”

“Oh, very annoying. Super annoying.” My heels click softly on the floor in a rhythm that’s much slower than the quickening beat of my heart. Max watches my approach, something lethal and heavy glinting in his gaze. I smile. “But I think you enjoy that.”

His gaze holds me hostage. “I have a question.”

“About?”

“The night you met Trevor.”

I almost buck like I got shot. Those were the absolute last words I expected to hear him say.

“That night.” Max steps forward. “When you met him.” Another step. “What drew you to him?”

“Why are you asking me that all of a sudden?”

He flattens his lips together. The silence thickens between us, but it’s not calm and quiet. It’s heated, jumping with a dangerous magnetism that makes me want to both grab Max close and push him far away from me.

I lift my chin. “What’s going on, Max?”

“I’ll tell you after you answer.”

A dark and crackling energy simmers in my chest. He’s always like this. Closed-off and mysterious. If I didn’t wake up with the taste of his lips still on my mouth, I wouldn’t believe that he was so open with me last night. It’s like I’m looking at a different man.

I breathe so hard my shoulders lift and fall. “It was a week after my dad died. I was going crazy missing him and I was tired of crying, so I asked my friend Luana to take me drinking. Somewhere loud. Somewhere I could blend in and scream and cry and no one would notice.”

His lips pull in.

A senseless part of me wants to wrap my arms around him and hold on tight. Wants to tell him the past doesn’t matter and why are we talking about this when we could be kissing? He already said he has to leave. It’s not like we have a lot of time. Why are we spending the moments we’re together talking about Trevor of all people?

Focus, Dawn.

Max obviously has something to work through and I’m willing to share with him. I have nothing to hide.

“Trevor was there that night. It was impossible not to notice him. He had a big crowd around him. They were cheering him on while he took shots.” I purse my lips, remembering the way he’d glanced up and found me in the crowd. “When he saw me, he came right over and offered to buy me a drink. I told him no at first.” I glance away so stiffly my neck cracks. “But he made up a stupid challenge. Said if he could drink seven glasses of tequila, I owed him a dance.”

“Sounds like him,” Max rumbles.

“On the dance floor, I started thinking about my dad again and I…” I let out a breath. “I started crying. He could have been a jerk about it, but he took me to the VIP section. To one of the empty rooms. And he talked to me. I told him about the funeral I attended and he told me about his mom. He said, uh,” I glance up at Max, “that he felt lost without her. That he had an older brother who was perfect at everything and suddenly, he didn’t fit in his own family.”

Max shifts back, blinks and then frowns harder.

I can practically feel the dismay crushing him.

That conversation with Trevor never made much sense to me. Not until last night, when Max admitted how he came into the Stinton family.

“I felt sorry for him. For myself. That’s how we ended up at a hotel.”

Max squeezes his eyes shut.

I wince, bracing myself for his comments.

This is weird, right? Talking about the guy I had a one-night stand with. Talking about how I hooked up with his brother. This isn’t a normal conversation. This isn’t a conversation I ever wanted to have with Max.

“I’m not hearing that you liked him,” he mumbles finally. “Was it just pity?”

My eyes widen, and I chuckle.

“Was it?” His blue eyes pin me in place.

“Does that matter?”

“It really does, Dawn.”

I fold my arms over my chest.

He’s giving me whiplash.

From a blazing inferno of desire to fighting back a smile, and now he’s making my chest ache in the worst way. I have a feeling that whatever’s putting that look of frustration on Max’s face has a lot to do with his brother.

Sympathy.

It’s swelling in my chest as I watch this giant, imposing man try to wrestle through these complicated problems all on his own, believing that he’s the only one who can solve them. Believing that he’s the only one who has a stake in finding answers.

It hits me then, just how much Max has been suffering at the hands of Stinton Group too. I’ve been so transfixed on my own hatred for the company, my own unease with dating my daughter’s uncle, that I didn’t realize Max might have his own fears and worries.

I reach up on the tips of my toes and frame his cheeks with my hands. Staring at him thoughtfully, I whisper, “Even if Trevor came back right this minute, I wouldn’t be interested in him.”

He stops breathing for a second. I can feel his entire body respond to the words.

It puzzles me.

My eyebrows crash low over my eyes. “Max, what is this ab—”

He obliterates the distance between us with the intensity of an exploding grenade.

His mouth crushes mine. Unruly and brutal.

It’ll kill me if I let it.

And I would let it. Gladly.

My fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer.

He takes control, walking me backward as he punishes me by holding my lips captive. Every thought is demolished, bursting into ashes as Max Stinton makes it impossible to think about anything but him.

An inferno of attraction.

A blazing uncontrollable fire.

I want it to burn.

I want it to demolish us both.

He tastes like mint and his touch burns like whiskey, hot and intoxicating.

I surrender to him, a low moan escaping my throat when he traces his tongue along my mouth and then nips it as if he wants to draw blood.

His kiss is raw and possessive.

Mine, he seems to be saying.

As if this is some kind of competition. As if someone will walk in here and try to snatch me away from him.

How can one man’s touch be so greedy?

How can it make me feel even greedier for him?

I told Max I wanted to go slow, but there’s not a single part of me that wants to slam on the brakes right now.

I need him as badly as he seems to need me.

My body bucks against the makeup table, bouncing me closer to him.

Max jerks back, his eyes blinking unsteadily.

“Don’t go anywhere,” I mumble. Grabbing his tie, I yank him closer and sear him with my lips again.

I can’t think. Can’t stop.

Not when he flings me against the desk, stepping in between my legs and pushing forward in a way that almost rips the air from my body.

I’ve never known a craving this hot. This desperate.

My thighs spread wide and I drag my hands over his back, whimpering when the front of his pants presses into my waist and makes all the blood in my body pool right below my stomach.

I rock back, spilling makeup bottles and brushes. They scatter across the floor.

A pang of surprise runs through me, but it’s stomped out by Max’s persistent and dangerous mouth.

With all these feelings ravaging my body, I don’t know how to do anything but reach for the buttons of his shirt so I can feel more skin.

Max Stinton is a freaking wizard.

Every touch, every kiss, every caress seems to be holding me in a trance.

I arch my body against his, needing more.

Needing everything.

I thought I could fight for longer, but I can’t.

I just want to let him consume me.

Until there’s nothing but ash.

Until there’s nothing but burning desire.

But he tears himself off me and braces his hand on either side of the desk. Even though I’m kissing him with all I’m worth, even though all my signals are flashing big, green lights, he doesn’t try to touch me or tear my clothes off.

Instead, he braces his hands on either side of my thigh, pressing his big fingers into the desk. He sweeps his gaze across me and I shudder. He’s ripping me open, scooping my heart out of my ribs and taking it home with him. I can feel it.

Have mercy.

I try to swallow, but the spit gets caught in my throat.

I can’t move. Dangerously shallow breaths are seeping through my lips.

We’re still standing close together, so every surge of my chest rubs my body over his.

A helplessly painful need curls in my core, throbbing and begging for more.

I could reach for it.

He’s still got me pinned on the desk, legs spread and bodies lined up perfectly. I could free what I need from his slacks and make him forget that stupid request to go slow.

But I don’t.

Something holds me back.

The stakes are too high for me to throw caution to the wind, no matter how badly I want to.

“You’re killing me, wolverine,” Max growls, breathing hard and fast. The harsh sound of his inhales makes me feel like my chest is splitting.

I look up at him. His blue eyes are twin flames burning in a face that could intimidate anyone with just a cold look. His lips are an unnatural red, bearing the mark of my lipstick that rubbed off on him while he attacked my mouth.

He’s gorgeous.

He’s ruined me.

Forget what he said yesterday. I’m the one who’s about to fall off the edge of the cliff.

He’ll be fine.

He can survive if this doesn’t work out, but I can’t afford to fall on the rocks below. If I fall, my daughter does too.

“Did you attend the photoshoot today just to try my lipstick, Mr. Stinton?” I press my thumb to his lips and wipe the marks I left behind.

His eyes are glowing and they dilate when I touch his mouth. Framed by those thick black lashes, I get trapped in his intoxicating stare.

I’m sure I look way more disheveled than he does and I hope the makeup artist can’t tell when she comes back in to retouch her work.

Max snatches my hand to stop me from caressing his mouth. He closes his eyes, leans his forehead against mine and growls, “I really freaking love you, Dawn.”

My breath gets sharper and my eyes pop out of my face like someone slapped my soul a little too hard. Heat flushes my cheeks and I stare at him with a bewildered expression.

He adjusts his body and I can feel how much he wants me. But he doesn’t do anything more than hold my hand, rubbing his thumb over my wrist.

“I…” Max struggles with his words and it’s the first time I’ve seen him falter. The first time I’ve seen him look anything but confident. “I’m not the man you think I am.”

I want to touch him. My fingers are shaking, aching to reassure him.

He stares up at me with an intense look. His eyes trace my hungry mouth before his gaze falls away. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you.”

“You’ve told me the most important thing of all.” He makes my heart buck like a wild deer. He makes my gut twist with longing. I whisper, “As long as it wasn’t you who sent those lawyers, Max, I can accept anything. I really can.”

His smile is weak, almost defeated.

“Trevor’s coming back, isn’t he?” I whisper.

His eyes whip to me.

The connection between us is a literal shockwave that runs through both our bodies.

He lets out a deep breath, his body pressing toward me even as he shakes his head. “How did you know that?”

“Intuition.” I run my fingers through his hair. “I get the feeling your brother is the only one who can make you seem so unraveled.”

He makes a low, disgruntled sound in his throat.

“You thought I’d run back to him if he showed up. That’s why you looked so beaten down when you came to see me, wasn’t it?” I push back, separating my hands from his skin so I can think clearly. “That’s why your kiss felt…”

“What?”

“Like a goodbye.”

He straightens to his full height. His expression eases back into its natural state of icy confidence. “I’m never saying goodbye to you, Dawn Banner. No matter what happens, I’m never giving you up.”

“And I’m not running back to Trevor. I mean that.” My eyes narrow. “It’s bad enough that he disappeared when I told him I was pregnant. To send lawyers after me is more than just cowardly.” I scowl. “It’s inhumane. I don’t care what I have to do to keep him away. He can try and take Beth from me and he’ll see what happens. I’ll fight him with everything I’ve got.”

Max tries to lift his lips, but the smile doesn’t quite hit. Reaching past me, he grabs a tissue from the makeup desk and swipes it across his mouth.

It’s strange seeing such a big, intimidating man look so shaken.

But knowing he was so nervous about my feelings for Trevor makes me a little more certain about his intentions. There’s no easy way to fix this complicated web, but seeing that his heart is truly invested in me goes a long way in calming my own misgivings.

He steps back. Gestures to my face. “I’m sorry for messing up your makeup.”

“With me, Max,” I rise on the tips of my toes and give him a meaningful look, “you don’t have to apologize when you haven’t done anything wrong. I trust you.”

His hands freeze in mid-air.

His eyes search mine.

There’s something hesitant in them. A flash of guilt.

A disturbing question knocks around my brain.

What is Max so worried about?

Why did he kiss me so desperately thinking that I would ever choose Trevor over him?

I want to strip him out of his clothes and show him, in the most physical way I know how, that Trevor doesn’t compare. Instead, I smooth my hands over my jumpsuit. The door’s unlocked and we’ve already made a mess of the room as it is.

Slow down, Dawn.

“What are you doing this weekend?” I ask.

He arches an eyebrow.

“I normally take Beth to hang out with her friends at the farmhouse on Saturday. This weekend, they’re going on a trip to the science museum. Darrel’s going to geek out about brains.” I shake my head when I think of Sunny’s gorgeous but nerdy fiancé. “I wasn’t interested in going, so I was thinking of working on the car. But,” I tilt my head, “I can make time for you. If you’d like to do something.”

I can’t believe I’m asking Max Stinton on a date.

He’s staring at me as if he’s finding it hard to believe too.

And who can blame him?

It’s not like I’ve been vocal about my feelings for him.

Maybe I can start to be.

Just a little.

Besides, thinking about Trevor caused me to make comparisons. And when it comes to responsibility, reliability and character—things that matter way more than just looks and money—Max outdoes his brother in every category.

“Well, Mr. Stinton?” I push out my lips. “Don’t leave a girl hanging.”

“Okay. This weekend.” He blinks slowly.

“Yeah?”

He seems to come to a decision of his own because his face hardens in a resolute frown. He withdraws from me. “I’ll tell you then.”

“Tell me what?”

“The truth.” His smile is pained. When he swoops in to kiss me, I feel that sense of finality again.

As if he thinks this is the last time he’ll get to do that.

As if he wants to savor every second.

What on earth is making the great Max Stinton act like he’s about to lose everything?

My heart slams against my ribs.

I reach for his hand, holding on until he drifts away from me and softly closes the door.

“Mom, has Mr. Stinton asked you any questions?” Beth asks, sticking her feet up on the couch and wiggling her toes.

“What?”

“Like…” She tilts her head in a show of fake indifference, “about the car he never drives?”

My laughter is as light as snow. “Young lady, why have you been making deals with strangers behind my back?”

“He’s not a stranger. He’s your boss,” she says smartly.

He’s your uncle.

Again, a pinch of doubt squeezes my skin.

How on earth do I explain that to Beth? Especially now that her biological father is back in town.

As soon as Max left, I went online to see if there were any articles about Trevor’s incarceration. Given all the white-collar crimes he committed, he should be on the front page. I wasn’t too surprised when I saw that he wasn’t.

Stinton Group strikes again.

Corruption to the core.

Strangely, my usual repulsion for the company’s underhanded tactics is tempered by my thoughts about Max.

Before, I used to think of Stinton Group as an entity with no face. The big bad wolf that snuck around, blowing down houses and wrecking lives.

Now, when I think of the company, I think of a pair of tired blue eyes. I think of giant hands clutching a phone and commandeering a team, working nonstop to keep the entire ship from sinking. I think of hair that falls gently over a handsome forehead and is raked back in frustration as an innocent man hands out apologies on behalf of others.

Dammit. Max Stinton has made it doubly hard to curse at my arch-nemesis now.

I sigh.

“Mom?” Beth blinks.

“What?” I startle.

“You didn’t answer my question. Did Mr. Stinton ask you?”

A tangle of emotions knot in my chest. “Yes, he did.”

“And?” She chews on her bottom lip.

I watch my daughter’s precious face. I’ve never told her about Trevor. All she knows is that her dad isn’t around and we don’t need him to be either. She’s not the type who talks a lot and I was always silently grateful for that. But now I wonder if I’d only assumed she didn’t care about her dad. How lonely had she been feeling that she latched onto Max the first time she met him?

I turn in the couch and ease my arm against the back of the chair. “Why were you so excited to meet Mr. Stinton, Beth?”

“What do you mean?” She scrunches her button nose.

I lean closer to her. “Is it just because you saw him on TV?”

Her eyes skitter away and her lashes sweep down.

“Beth.” My voice holds a hint of a warning.

Her shoulders slump. “Aunt Sunny and Mama Moira were talking about him.”

“What?” My jaw drops.

“Mama Moira said the way Mr. Stinton talked about you was too, what was the word?” She taps her little chin with a finger. “Susp-tus.”

“Suspicious?”

“Yeah. She said that it felt like he liked you.”

I blink rapidly.

“Aunt Sunny said that it wasn’t so simple and that you weren’t sure if Mr. Stinton was a good guy. So I talked to him at the ice cream shop. I asked him all kinds of things and I watched him.” She shrugs. “Bailey thinks he’s scary, but I don’t think he’s a bad person.”

“What?” It seems like that’s the only word left in my vocabulary. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.

Beth clasps her hands together and pulls it to her chin. “I think he might seem scary because he doesn’t smile much. But he’s really smart and cool. He knows all kinds of things.” She pauses as if her thoughts are running too fast and she needs to gather them again. “I think he’s kind of like me. He doesn’t know how to make friends and it’s hard when you want to join the games and stuff. So you just sit on the outside and pretend that you’re too cool for it. But really, inside, you just want someone to invite you in.”

My heart bucks. “Beth.”

“I like him.” She gives me a look that’s far too wise for a seven-year-old. “But only if you like him, mom.”

“You little angel.” I wrap my arms around her and pepper her face with kisses.

She shrieks. “Mom. Ew!”

“Uh uh. You’re not getting away from me. Come here, you cutie.”

She wiggles out of my arms and goes running.

I chase her through the living room, laughing and kissing her face even harder when I catch her.

She hugs me, looking mostly pleased even if she tries to pull an annoyed frown. “I was going to help you fall in love with him when he took us for a drive in Red Beauty.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“Bailey and I watched The Parent Trap.” She giggles. “Micheal has a crush on the twins. He got so red when Bailey teased him about it.”

I laugh. “Actually, I am going on a date with Mr. Stinton. This weekend.”

“Really?”

“Yup.” I watch her face closely. “Are you okay with that?”

“Yes!” She throws her arms around me. “Yes, yes, yes.”

I grin.

Beth eases back and stares at me. “What are you going to bring on your date? You should make him something. Like a gift.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary for a first date, sweetie.”

“Okay, then do it before the first date.”

“Why should I give him something before the date?”

“He saved you from all those bullies. He took up for you and made everyone like you again.” She moans. “Come on, mom. You always say we should show our thanks when people help us out.”

“Well…”

“How about we bake him cookies?”

I can see how excited she is about this and I don’t want to kill her enthusiasm. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

Recalling that Max likes raisin nut cookies, I look up the recipe. Beth and I dance to music while we bake.

The next day, I take her to school and she stays in the car, chatting off a list of instructions.

“I want you to tell me his reaction later,” Beth insists. “Remember to tell him that we made it together. That way, if it tastes horrible, you can just blame it on me.”

I laugh and kiss her cheek. “I will not. Lying is wrong.”

“Even if it’s for the right reasons?” She bats her eyelashes.

“It doesn’t matter. You should always tell the truth. Even if it hurts.” I point to Bailey who’s waving on the sidewalk. “You two have a good day.”

“Okay, mom. Bye.”

I watch her scramble out of the truck and then point my vehicle to Stinton Group.

It feels weird walking into the building again after my rise in popularity. Everyone knows me by name now. The security guard waves at me. Someone stops me to get my autograph. Another person takes my picture.

That sets off a wave of pictures and autograph signings.

Fifteen minutes pass before I can get to the elevator.

As I press the button for Max’s floor, I remember our kisses and my stomach tightens into knots. I hope he doesn’t mind me dropping in, but I really can’t wait to see him.

The elevator doors slide apart.

I walk to the receptionist.

She gives me a frightened look and my nerves twist into a pretzel.

“Hey, I’m here to drop off something for Max.” I lift the warm box of cookies in my hand. “Is he busy?”

“Uh… Mr. Stinton is in a meeting.”

“With whom?”

“Um…”

“Dawn? What are you doing here?” Hills’s voice bursts out behind me.

I whirl around and lock eyes with Max’s assistant. “Hey, I came to drop this off for Max.”

“He’s… busy.” Hills swallows hard. “I’ll give it to him.” He takes the box from my hand and steers me back to the elevators. “You should go now.”

“Hands off, Hills,” I growl.

He raises both arms. “Sorry. I’ll let him know you were here.”

“My daughter asked me to deliver it personally.”

“Don’t you have to be at the auto shop?” Hills asks. “I’ll tell Max to meet you there.”

His insistence makes me even more suspicious. I take the container back. “Clint is holding over at the garage right now, so I can wait.”

“You need to leave.” His tone turns frosty.

I scowl. “Why? What’s going on?”

At that moment, the door of Max’s office flies open and an angry voice charges through the air. A man stomps out of the room, flinging curses over his shoulder. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Tall, lean figure.

It’s the punk I had a drunken night of passion with.

The coward who abandoned his own daughter and tried to force me to terminate her before she was born.

Trevor Stinton.