An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)(72)

“She’s beautiful,” Max murmured.

“Yeah, she was.”

Max followed Grace into the kitchen, where she handed him a cold glass of lemonade.

“Mom’s recipe. Homemade,” she said with a wink.

“I should hope so,” Max replied, taking a long sip. The silence stretched out between them, fizzing and sparking like it always did when they were alone. Max wondered fleetingly if that was why Grace had retreated from him. It was certainly an odd feeling. He leaned a hip against the kitchen counter, watching her as she pretended to wipe condensation off her glass. “So,” he began, placing his glass down. “I was thinking maybe we could talk.”

Her eyes snapped to his, worry creasing their edges. “Talk?”

Max swallowed and cleared his throat. “I wanted to make sure that everything was still okay. You know, with us.” He gestured with a finger between them.

Grace blinked. “Us?”

“Yeah.” He exhaled and dropped his shoulders. “I mean, you seem . . . different and— We’re good, right?”

Grace shook her head gently from side to side. “Why on earth would you think we weren’t?” She didn’t give him a chance to answer. “You’ve been nothing but amazing, Max. You’ve been a good friend.” She licked her lips. “A great friend.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Max’s mouth. Grace put her glass next to his and moved closer, her gaze on her fingers as they danced along the side of the counter. “I know I’ve been a little distant since the cabin. And I’m sorry. I was just so damned mortified by what happened the night we went out that I didn’t know whether you wanted anything more to happen or how to even broach the subject.”

Max nudged her foot with his own. “Hey, I told you. You can talk to me about anything.” He watched her shoulders relax. “And, seriously, woman, I still want the ‘anything more’ to happen.”

“Yeah?”

Max rolled his eyes. “Pfft, shut up.”

Grace’s heavy expression lifted. “Even though I vomited and made a spectacle of myself?”

“Even then. And trust me, if you wear underwear like that every time you vomit, I’d absolutely be okay with that. Gives me something nice to look at while I’m holding your hair back, right?”

They both laughed.

“Okay,” Grace said on a long breath. She regarded him for a moment. “Okay.”

Max felt the anxiety he’d been harboring about their conversation drift away on the breeze whispering through the house. “So the place looks awesome.” He pointed to a part of the kitchen wall that he’d rebuilt and plastered. “Especially that bit. That part’s my favorite.”

Grace sipped her drink before almost choking on it in excitement. “Oh, hey! I need to show you something.” Putting her empty glass in the sink, she grabbed Max’s wrist and pulled him toward the stairs. “I forgot to tell you!”

Max chuckled as he followed her up to the first level of the house. She released him and quickly closed a door that was slightly ajar, looking embarrassed. Max looked at her in question. “Dead bodies?”

“Not quite. My darkroom. I’ve been working on the photographs for my show.”

“Yeah?” Max asked excitedly. “The ones of me? Can I see?”

Grace shook her head firmly. “Not yet. The collection’s not finished. I have something better to show you.” She led him down the corridor to the room Max knew to be her bedroom.

Better indeed.

She pushed the door open, stepped into the room, and opened her arms wide. “Ta-da!”

The last time Max had seen her bedroom, when he’d been hauling all the heavy-ass furniture around for her, Grace’s place of sleep had been a blowup mattress on the floor. Now in its place was a wrought-iron framed bed, decorated in a white comforter and stacks of pillows. The f*cking thing was huge.

“Wow,” he murmured, stepping closer.

“Right? Isn’t it awesome?” Grace bounced around the bed to the other side and clambered onto it. She lay down and patted the space next to her. “Here. Try it.”

Seeing her on her back all bare arms and legs was a real test of Max’s resolve. He cocked his head to the side and lifted a curious eyebrow.

“Oh, stop,” she chastised with a smirk. “I just want you to feel it.”

Max barked a laugh. “Shit, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard a woman say that to me.”

He toed off his shoes and eyed her suspiciously. He pointed to the bed. “Seriously, though, are you propositioning me? Because, I’ll be honest, I’m totally f*cking fine with that.”

“Just shush and lie down.”

Relaxing, Max sat down on the bed before swinging his legs onto it. He launched a couple of pillows down to the foot of it so they didn’t smother him to death and adjusted himself into a comfortable position: on his back, his hands laced on his stomach. “Damn,” he muttered, shuffling a little. “This shit is comfortable.”

“I told you,” Grace replied, her words laced with smugness. Max turned his head to watch her. “I love it,” she added, closing her eyes. “I’ve never had a huge bed all to myself before.”

“Really?”