An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)(25)
Ruby placed a hand on his chest and lowered her voice. “But you’re getting better?”
“Slowly but surely.” Max smiled tentatively.
Ruby’s gray eyes softened. “I’m glad.” They hugged again, only breaking apart when one of Ruby’s workers whistled loudly.
“There she is,” a dude with shoulder-length blond hair and tattooed knuckles exclaimed as he stared across the street. “My little RiRi.”
Max turned in curiosity to see the same girl who worked behind the bar his uncle had taken him and his other workers to the previous night. She scurried down the street, white earbuds in her ears, a large bag slung over her shoulder, wearing black jeans and a yellow sweater that complemented her dark skin. Her black hair was back in a ponytail that swung from side to side as she walked.
“RiRi?” Max asked with a cocked eyebrow, his stare following the object of Blond Guy’s blatant affections.
“Yeah,” the man replied with a lascivious lick of his lips. “Her name’s Grace, but she looks just like Rihanna, right?”
“No, Buck,” Ruby interjected with an eye roll. “She doesn’t.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “She’s softer somehow, less sex and more warm hugs.” She pushed Buck’s arm. “Now quit your hollerin’ and get back to work. You’ll scare the poor girl to death.”
“Oh, man, you wanna see her up close,” Buck continued, looking at Max. “Green eyes, mocha skin. Damn fine ass.” He wandered back toward an ’89 Buick, shaking his head.
Max wasn’t knowledgeable enough to comment on the ass thing, not having seen it clearly, but he understood the remark about Grace’s eyes. She’d looked at him over the bar last night, the green of her eyes bright and stunning. He’d been momentarily hypnotized by her when they’d entered Whiskey’s, and was only shunted from his trance when she’d smiled.
It was, for sure, a very pretty smile, but Max couldn’t allow himself to ponder on that too much. He was there to clear his head, not become even more muddled by a strange girl who’d sent an alluring look his way. Of course, he’d be more than happy to satisfy his male urges by f*cking her into oblivion if she asked, but just from looking at her for the brief time he had, he knew she wasn’t that type of girl. Ruby was right. There was a softness about her. There was too much innocence in those eyes, and maybe a hint of fear, which he was glad of, if it meant she kept her distance.
Max turned back to Ruby, pushing any thoughts of sex or green eyes from his mind. “So are we gonna hang out while I’m here?” he asked.
“Absolutely. I can make dinner. You can meet Josh properly.”
Max pulled affectionately on a piece of her hair. “Sounds good.”
Max’s uncle, Vince, opened Masen’s Boardinghouse long before Max was born, with his first wife. For the ten years before they divorced they welcomed visitors to the town with good food, hospitality, and a decent bed. Vince’s second wife, Fern, Ruby’s mom, took on the running of the boardinghouse with little fuss and an expert business eye, while Vince set up what would become Masen Construction. The Masen family had long been an unquestionable force and brought more money into the town than anyone else. To say that Uncle Vince was a hero to the community would have been an understatement.
With a towel around his hips and steam billowing out of the bathroom door behind him, Max wandered back into his room, glancing at the wall-mounted clock to see that it was a little after seven in the morning. He lifted his underwear and jeans from the bed and pulled them on. The room he was staying in was pleasant enough with a large bed, TV, and wardrobes. The floral drapes were not quite to Max’s taste, but he’d learn to tolerate them.
He sipped quickly from the cup of coffee he’d made with the standard percolator before pulling on his socks, boots, and a black Sonic Youth T-shirt. He was working for his uncle again—determined to pay for his stay one way or another, even with manual labor, despite his uncle’s protestations that Max was there to take it easy and recuperate. But Max had shut down his uncle’s concerns. It kept Max’s pride from taking a hit with free bed and board, and because his uncle was a stubborn ass and wouldn’t take any money, it kept him busy both physically and emotionally, and that was always a good thing. His terrors, for the most part, had stayed away, but he wasn’t taking any chances.
He sprayed on some deodorant, rubbed the towel over his hair, popped some gum into his mouth, and grabbed his jacket.
Opening the door and vacating the room, he walked smack into something, or rather someone, moving quickly down the hallway. He grabbed at the flailing arms and held whomever it was upright, while cursing under his breath when the toe of their shoe rammed into his shin.
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!”
Max gained his bearings and looked down at the rushing, apologizing idiot, immediately captured by mesmerizing green eyes and a complete look of surprise. Grace. He released his hold and took a step back. “It’s okay. No problem,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. Great. Just what he needed first thing in the damn morning.
“I caught your leg,” she insisted, a hand at her mouth. “I really am sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“It’s fine,” he replied, turning from her to lock his door.