The Gamble (Colorado Mountain #1)(38)

I wasn’t sure I wanted to play it safe and be smart, sane and rational every second with every nuance of my life.

I was sure I’d learned my lessons way back when and I wasn’t going back to that.

I couldn’t live the life that I was living with Niles, I’d come to terms with that.

And I couldn’t go back to who I used to be. Heartbreak lay down that road, heck, it was paved with it.

And Holden Maxwell had heartbreak written all over him.

I pulled myself out of bed, went to the bathroom, did my routine and then, deciding on propriety in the face of our impending conversation, I walked to my suitcase and dug around until I found my wool robe. It was like a big, long, button-less, cardigan sweater that went down to my calves. It was creamy green and had a hood. It cost a fortune and it was lush.

I shrugged it on, belted it up and headed downstairs to face Max. I hit the bottom, saw him in the kitchen and stopped dead.

His back was to me and he was wearing pajama bottoms and nothing else. His shoulders, the muscles of his back, the wide expanse of smooth, tan skin, was all exposed to the na**d eye and I was blinded by the beauty of it. So much, it was a wonder I didn’t throw out my hand and go reeling.

At that thought, he turned and gave me a view of his chest.

At this view, arguably better than his back, I sucked in breath then whispered to myself, “Oh my God.”

“Hey baby,” he called, apparently (and luckily) not hearing me and headed my way.

I stood immobile as he walked to me.

He stopped in front of me, his head tipped down and his hand came to my jaw, tipping my head up.

“You sleep okay?” he asked softly and I nodded. “Wake up at nine o’clock your time?” he went on and I shook my head. “Sorry I was out so late.” I shrugged and he grinned. “I see I got Nina Zombie.”

“Um…” I muttered.

He shook his head once still grinning then dipped his face and touched his mouth to mine. My toes curled.

“Look after the bacon, will you?” he said when he lifted his head. “I’m gonna go put on some clothes.”

“Okay,” I whispered.

“Might be good you get some coffee in you before you get near sizzling bacon grease,” he advised, still amused.

“Okay,” I repeated on a whisper.

“God,” he muttered, his thumb drifting across my cheek, his clear, gray eyes watching it go, “you’re cute.”

I swallowed. He let me go and walked away.

I stood where he left me and realized that I was, officially, in trouble. If I couldn’t function at the sight of his chest, how was I going to tell him we weren’t going to explore what was happening?

Especially if he kept touching me and calling me “baby”?

I pulled myself together enough to take one step when the door under the loft opened, my body jerked in surprise and I gave out a small scream.

A girl walked out, a woman-girl, like Becca. Wild, curly, almost frizzy strawberry blonde hair and a lot of it. Cute as a button face. Cornflower blue eyes. Long, thin, shapely legs that went on forever.

And last, but oh so definitely not least, she was wearing the shirt Max wore yesterday.

I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.

“Forgot to tell you,” Max called from upstairs, probably because he heard my scream, “Mindy’s here.”

“Hi!” Mindy cried brightly and skipped to me, actually skipped. “You’re Nina, right?”

“Right,” I said, immobile again, this time for a different reason.

“Cool!” she cried, grabbing my arm in one hand, my hand in the other, both with a friendliness that was unreal and she jumped up and down twice.

“I, um… need to look after the bacon,” I told her.

“Oh, sure,” she said, looking suddenly confused at my behavior in the face of her outgoingness.

“Nina’s a zombie in the morning, Mins,” Max called and I knew he could hear everything. “Maybe you should look after the bacon, darlin’.”

Mins? Darlin’?

“Cool!” she cried again as if looking after bacon was her heart’s desire, her hands moving from me. “I can do that.”

Then she turned and part skipped, part slid on the wood floors in her adorable baby blue socks with darker blue hearts all over them, part danced to the kitchen.

I followed with a lot less exuberance.

No, it wouldn’t be hard to tell Max we weren’t going to explore anything. He wanted me to be a member of his harem? No. Not me. I wasn’t going to become a card carrying member of that particular club with, apparently, Mindy, who he’d brought home when I was under his bloody roof, and maybe Becca not to mention the ex-member, bitchy, cheating, awful Shauna.

No way. No bloody way.

I went to the cupboard over the coffeepot as Mindy pushed the bacon around in the skillet and I took down a mug. Then I poured coffee. Then I spooned in some sugar. Then I went to the fridge and sloshed in some milk. All the while I did this, my mind tortured me.

Did he sleep with her on the couch when I was upstairs in his bed? He was a big guy but his couch was deep, long. Mindy was long too but she was also thin. It would be cozy but it would work.

Did they do it, Max knowing I slept like the dead?

Or maybe not caring if I heard?