An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)(24)
Grace tried to smile at him, but he looked away quickly, thanking Vince for the orange juice he handed to him. They made their way across the bar, parked it near the pool table, and set about talking. His shoulders rounded as he sat on his stool, as though trying to make himself smaller while the men around him laughed and chatted.
“Somethin’ caught your eye there, honey?”
Holly’s voice startled Grace. She was immediately horrified to realize she’d been staring. “No, um, not really. I was just wondering who the new guy was on Vince’s team. I haven’t seen him at the house.”
Holly looked across the bar, narrowing her blue eyes as though it would help her identify the newbie quicker. She shrugged and continued placing the glasses on the correct shelves. “No idea. But it’s about time we had something new, male, and pretty to look at around here. Am I right?”
Grace giggled into her hand. The newcomer was certainly easy on the eyes, which undoubtedly surprised her. It had been a long time since she’d felt any flutter of attraction toward the opposite sex, due to the hurt that her past flirtations and intimacies had brought her. Her track record with making sound decisions where men were concerned was not stellar, and with everything that had happened in the past two years, her fear was always enough to help her politely steer clear of any man who showed her even an ounce of attention. Not that this guy had; he hadn’t even smiled back.
Caleb turned back to face the bar with a furrow in his brow. “That’s Vince’s nephew,” he added to the conversation. “Didn’t catch his name. Flew in from New York a few days ago. He’s staying at the boardinghouse here in Preston County.” Caleb was silent a beat. “I’d keep a distance, ladies. From what I hear he’s had problems, been in prison, involved in some pretty bad shit up there. Drugs and the like. Apparently, he’s here to ‘clean up.’ ”
The deputy used his fingers as he spoke to punctuate his meaning and Grace’s heart skipped in her chest.
Well, of course, the newbie had a dubious past. What other douches was she attracted to other than those who’d been paroled at least once in their lives and/or were involved in illegal substances? Jesus, she was a magnet for that type of crap. It followed her everywhere. Dammit. She silently cursed her gut, which was evidently not working on all cylinders.
“Okay, then.” She huffed out a humorless breath of laughter and picked up a towel to wipe down the bar, counting down the last few hours of her shift and keeping her curious gaze away from Vince’s pretty nephew and his intriguing eyes.
Max’s decision to leave Carter’s beach house and fly to Preston County, West Virginia, was, after almost a week, turning out to be a good one. And thank f*ck for that. He could already feel the tight ropes of anxiety loosening as he ran through the dense forests behind his uncle’s boardinghouse, and not seeing the faces of his past every day eased the tension he’d been carrying like a bag of bricks. Although he felt immeasurably guilty for leaving, his ability to breathe a little easier made it worthwhile.
Just as Tate had predicted, Carter and Kat were both eager for him to do what was necessary to get better, and if that meant he had to leave and stay with his uncle Vince for a while, then so be it. The panic attack that the two of them had witnessed had undoubtedly revealed how far from recovery Max actually was. After Tate had researched and organized a nearby NA meeting for Max to attend, as well as having him placed back on Elliot’s list of regular patients at his office in Pittsburgh, Max was set to go within a couple of days. He immediately started to feel better, less stressed, more at ease in his own skin.
His feet pounded the forest floor, his knees and legs burning, while the smell of freshly fallen rain filled his lungs like precious elixir. Following the path down toward the main road, Max slowed and jogged into town, back toward the boardinghouse. Uncle Vince had been more than a little surprised by the phone call Max had made to ask if he could visit. They’d not seen each other for almost eight years—not since Max’s father’s funeral—but Max knew he’d be welcomed with open arms. Despite Vince not being a relation by blood, he and Max’s father had grown up together, always treating each other and their families as true brothers would.
“Maximus Asshat!”
Max came to an abrupt stop at the familiar nickname. He turned to his left where the shout had come from, staring across the street to see his cousin Ruby standing outside her auto body shop, arms open wide.
“Ruby Tuesday!” He flew at her like a bullet, making her squeak in surprise, and grabbed her before she could make a run for it, squeezing her tightly.
“Dad said you were in town,” she said with a laugh, hugging him back. “How the hell are you?”
“I’m good,” he replied, putting her back down on the ground. “How’re you? What the f*ck’s this I hear about you getting married? I met your hubby when I went to work with your dad yesterday.”
She blushed crimson, pushing a hand through her cropped brown hair, and nodded. “Three months.” She held out her left hand, the diamond on her third finger small but elegant. “Josh and I sent you an invitation, but . . . I guess you weren’t home.”
The smile on Max’s face dropped minutely. He sighed, knowing that all the dirty details of the past eight years he’d shared with his uncle the day he’d arrived would have been passed on to Ruby within hours. Not that he minded. He’d prefer his family knew the shit he’d done. Nevertheless, small towns were funny places, and variations of his dirty laundry had no doubt been aired several times since his appearance. “Yeah,” he replied. “I was . . . unavailable. Sorry.”