An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)(37)

Max barked out a laugh. “My God. Women! I didn’t even answer and you’ve already assumed the worst.”

“Well, I’m not like Fay from the bar,” she argued. “So I can see why you wouldn’t want me that way; the way you wanted her.”

Her words weren’t petulant or bitter, there was no hint of jealousy. She was resigned, accepting of what she thought was true, and it stopped Max short. How could she believe the shit she was spouting?

He stood and took two steps toward her. “No,” he agreed. “You’re nothing like Fay. And thank God for that.” Surprise lightened her eyes. “And just so we’re clear,” he added. “I didn’t want her and I didn’t have sex with her.”

Grace blinked. “You didn’t?”

Max shook his head. “I wouldn’t believe everything you hear.”

“But she’s so sexual,” Grace uttered. “And her boobs are amazing.” She looked genuinely puzzled.

Max snorted. “That she is, but, firstly, I was far too f*ckin’ drunk. And, secondly, for a guy, all boobs are amazing, especially when they have Apple logos creased on ’em.”

He knew how flirtatious his comment was, but the laugh that exploded out of Grace made his unease worth it.

“Where is this comin’ from?” he asked with a lift of his shoulders. “I thought we were cool just like this.” Max knew that if she wanted more from him, he needed to put the brakes on whatever they were doing, pronto.

“We are,” Grace insisted. “Oh, God, this is great.” She waved her hand between them and then to their surroundings. “I love running with you, and hanging out, it’s just . . .”

Max waited, seeing the indecision skirt across her mouth.

She had a great mouth.

He fidgeted.

“Look,” he offered, sensing the odd curve their friendship was about to take. “I wanna be straight with you: I’m nowhere near in a position to offer any woman a relationship. I’m f*cked up. I have serious attachment and trust issues. I’m a drug addict. I’m fighting every day to stay in recovery, and getting involved with someone wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”

A small V punctuated Grace’s brow. “Who said anything about a relationship? I was talking about sex.”

Max laughed and clutched the bridge of his nose. “Fair enough.” He leveled her with a stare. “But I still wouldn’t have sex with you.” The red-blooded male in him immediately smacked him upside the head with a what-the-f*ck-dude? Before Grace could look even more despondent, he admitted, “I find you very, very attractive.”

“You do?”

“You own a mirror, right?”

She smiled faintly. “But you still wouldn’t—”

“Because you deserve better than that,” he interrupted. “You deserve more than some * like me who can offer you nothing but an emotionless f*ck. You deserve someone who’ll take you out and treat you right.” He shook his head. “I can’t do that. I’m not capable of that right now.” He swallowed down the regret. “I don’t think I’ll ever be capable of that again.”

Grace stared at him for a moment, searching his face for answers to fill in the blanks of his past. Her gaze did funny things to Max’s chest. “Okay. Thank you for being honest with me,” she murmured. “I appreciate it.”

He dipped his chin. “Sure.”

She rubbed her hands together and set off toward the direction of her house. “But now at least I know who to come to for an emotionless f*ck, right?”

Max grinned at the exaggerated sway of her ass and hips.

Fucking woman.

Whiskey’s was busier than Max had seen since he’d arrived in town. Ruby’s coworker Buck was celebrating his thirtieth birthday, and she’d invited Max to join them. It had been a few weeks since he’d shattered his sober streak, and he’d avoided the bar and the careful invitations that his friends and family offered him ever since, but, besides being a stubborn son of a bitch, he knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable any longer. As it was, he liked the atmosphere of the place, he liked the people who frequented it, and he enjoyed spending downtime with his uncle. The banter with him and the awesome food undoubtedly took his mind off the temptations behind the bar.

His gaze slid over to Grace, who was popping the cap off a bottle of beer for a customer, and he cleared his throat.

Too f*cking tempting.

Eager to distract himself, Max sat with his cousin, her husband, and their friends and listened to them reminisce about Buck as a kid, his less than stellar behavior at school, and his obsession with Star Wars.

Max listened, adding anecdotes about Ruby as a teenager and receiving smacks of embarrassment from her, much to the delight of Uncle Vince, who elaborated with gusto. Max sipped his orange juice, smiled at the stories he heard, and tried not to wonder why his gaze continually kept traveling back to the bar, where Grace was working hard, smiling as she served beer and food, and generally looking lovely.

It had been two days since she’d asked him about whether he found her attractive, and for two days he’d been chewing it over. It sure came out of left field, although, in hindsight, it shouldn’t have been surprising after he’d left the bar with Fay draped all over him.