Max (A Carter Brother series Book 4) (6 page)

“Shit,’’ Max says, running his hands through his still wet hair.

“Let us know when you get there.’’

“Will do.’’

Kayla waves goodbye and tells me to look after Scott Eastwood for her. I laugh, looking back at the paused movie.

“I’m just going to get changed into something of Mason’s. The rain soaked through my hoody,’’ Max says, getting up.

“Will his clothes fit? You’re big,’’ I tell him, then groan when I realise what the fuck just came out of my mouth. Why did I bother speaking? Oh, I know, because I’m an idiot.

“Oh, baby, trust me, I’m well aware,’’ he smirks, grabbing his junk. I send him a glare before looking away. I grab the remote that Denny had left on the end of the sofa and press play. Not realising how loud it was I jump in fright and end up waking Hope up from her nap. She starts fussing which has me panicking. Standing up, I place her over my shoulder and tap her back. I’ve watched moms do this with their kids all the time, but when it doesn’t work, I start rocking her from side to side. Well, okay,
I
start rocking from side to side, but you get the drift.

Max rushes in with his top barely over his head. Frozen to the spot, I stare at his rippling muscles as he pulls his top on with one hand.

Fuck me!

He has a body of a goddamn model. Jesus! How the hell has a lad his age got that kind of muscle? He’s fit. I mean, you could trace each line of his six pack – well, eight pack – and dip your finger down his V line. I’ve never seen one of those on anyone in the flesh, only in pictures. I started to believe they were a fantasy and were just airbrushed, or whatever photographers do, but looking at Max I can see they are very,
very
real.

“You’ve got a bit of drool there,’’ Max says, touching my mouth with his index finger.

Humiliated, I jump back, slapping his hand out of the way. I can’t believe I just lost myself in his body. A loud burp next to my ear reminds me of Hope.

“Oh shit,’’ Max says, stepping closer.

“What?’’ I ask, wondering if I’m holding her wrong.

“She’s been sick,’’ he says looking grossed out, his face scrunched up in revulsion.

“And? It’s just a bit of sick,’’ I dismiss.

“Um... It’s in your hair,’’ he says and it’s then I notice he’s not grossed out, but worried I’m going to start having a hissy fit over Hope’s sick being in my hair.

I roll my eyes. “Here, let me go wash it out with some water. Do you think Denny will mind if I use a towel?’’ I ask unsure.

“Nah, go ahead, they’re in the bathroom cabinet.’’

I give him a smile and watch him tend to Hope for a second. He’s so gentle with her. He wipes her mouth with a wet wipe and with that I leave them to it and rush up to the bathroom.

The house looks so tiny from the outside but it’s a decent size inside. The walls up the stairs are covered in photos of Hope, Mason and Denny. Some are of the brothers together and some with their girlfriends, they all look happy. I smile looking at them and when I get to the top one, one of a girl I’ve not met yet, holding Hope, I’m confused. She’s pretty. Really pretty, but she doesn’t seem to be anyone I’ve seen with any of the brothers or the girls.

Shaking it off I open the first door to the left and find myself in Hope’s room. It’s beautiful. So beautiful in fact that I feel a little envious of Hope.

Shutting the door behind me, I try the one across from it. Thankfully it’s the bathroom and I make quick work of washing the sick from my hair and back of my top.

It turned out my hair needed more than a bit of water. Even after rinsing it out, I could still smell the sick in my hair. Hoping they wouldn’t mind, I quickly washed my hair and towel dried it. I’m just brushing my fingers through the knots when I hear Joan’s voice from downstairs.

Walking down, I’m greeted to her sitting down already with a cup of tea and watching a now sleeping Hope.

“Hey,’’ I wave, walking in and hoping everything from earlier has been cleared up. I’m nervous as hell and honestly? My hands are shaking and worry ignites me. I don’t want her to dislike me.

“Oh my, what’s happened to you,’’ Joan giggles, eyeing my wet hair.

“Hope was sick in my hair. I hope Denny won’t mind but I quickly washed it. I couldn’t get the smell out with just rinsing.’’ Embarrassed, I can only stand there and twiddle my thumbs. It felt rude washing it upstairs, but now standing and telling someone, I feel intrusive.

“Nonsense, of course she wouldn’t mind. You’re actually in luck; I brought some clothes over for you. I went into town after the food bank closed and got you some new things. A new hairbrush and stuff is in there too.’’

The first thought in my head is that she’s buying me stuff so I can move on, find somewhere else to go. I’ve become accustomed to not being wanted. I don’t deserve to be after what I did. Sadness pervades me. I actually like it here. I said I’d never settle in a place where I started to like it. My life should be miserable, cold, lonely and unloved. After what I did it’s the least that should have happened to me. But having Joan take care of me, Mark making me laugh and actually having warm food and a bed to sleep in has made me feel something other than dead. I don’t want to lose that feeling.

“What’s wrong?’’ Joan asks, breaking through my thoughts.

“You didn’t need to get me new stuff. It’s very kind of you but you don’t need to do that,’’ I tell her honestly. She shouldn’t be wasting her money on someone like me.

“Stop talking nonsense, sweetie, I don’t mind. I love treating my girls. You and Harlow should be spoilt,’’ she smiles and I feel my eyes water. She’s not even known me that long and already she’s stationed me inside her family.
Her girls.
My heart shouldn’t like her saying that but it does; it also brings a new wave of sadness to my heart. My mom used to call me her girl. I was always her girl. With it only being my brother and I, I seemed to get spoilt more with clothes, girly stuff and what have you. It’d been great until it hadn’t. I don’t know what my mom would call me now but I know
my girl
won’t be it.

“You want me to stay?’’ I breathe out, not meaning to say it out loud.

“Who wanted you to go? Fuck me,’’ Max says, walking in from behind me and making me jump. I turn around, my hand over my heart, and give him a glare.

“You scared me half to death. And what are you looking at?’’ I ask, taken aback by the intensity of his stare.

“Fuck me,’’ he breathes again, and I notice his eyes on my hair, following it all the way down to my ass where his eyes stayed glued.

“Max, pick your jaw up and wipe that mouth,’’ Joan teases and I snap my head back around to hers.

“Um, yeah, what were you saying?’’ he asks, but his attention is still on my hair by my ass.

“Did you order the food with Mark or not?’’ Joan asks and Max snaps out of whatever he’s in when she mentions food, his eyes lighting up.

“Yeah,’’ he grins then sits down at the other end of the sofa. “You gonna stand there all day?’’ he asks, looking at me, his eyes raking up and down my body.

“Sit here, let me put your hair in a French braid before you catch pneumonia,’’ Joan says and my heart rate picks up. My mom used to love playing with my hair. It wasn’t as long as it is now but it was still long enough for anyone who would see it to comment on it. I get it a lot. People wishing they had my hair or asking if it’s my real hair.

Not trusting my voice, I sit on the floor in front of Joan with my back to her. I hear her rummage through the bags next to me and hear her triumphant ‘whoop’ when she finds what she’s looking for. Then I feel the brush running through my hair.

It’s not long after she gets all the knots out that the motion of the brush running through my hair brings tears to my eyes. I loved it when my mom would sit and brush it for no reason other than to brush it. It would send me to sleep, relax me after I had a bad day. Having Joan doing the exact same thing forms a lump in my throat and tears threaten to spill over my cheeks.

“I spoke with everyone at the food bank,’’ Joan starts. Max grunts, causing a small smile to twitch at my lips.

“Who said I did it?’’ I ask quietly, knowing full well one of them blamed me, if not all of them. It had been their intentions all along.

“Liv and Jessica. Sarah didn’t say much but then I don’t think they got her involved. Put a little pressure on that girl and her mouth has verbal diarrhoea,’’ Joan tells us, making me choke back a laugh. Oh Lord, this woman really has no filter. Max laughs out right, agreeing with her. It turns out the two went to school together or something.

“What did Miss Robins say?’’ I ask, hoping she didn’t blame me. She’s a lot like Joan: fun, easy going, but if you get on the wrong side of her you’d better watch out.

“Honestly, I never gave anyone a chance to say anything, but Miss Robins and Mr Dickens spoke up before I could say anything. They both disagreed and were outraged that the girls could accuse such an innocent girl,’’ she tells me and I hear the smile in her voice.

If only she knew I wasn’t an innocent girl. What I am is far from innocent.

“So what’s happened?’’

“Well, I’ve told them they can’t volunteer anymore and that the church won’t condone a hostile environment, but Jessica seems to think her father won’t allow it. He’s one of the big donors for the church. We will just have to see what happens, although, if I know her father, he won’t tolerate her behaviour either.’’

At least she’s honest. Most people would avoid telling you the truth just so they didn’t have to deal with the aftermath.   

“That’s good,’’ I smile, leaning forward as she finishes the French braid.

The doorbell rings and I look up, shocked. Who the hell would be out in this storm? They’re crazy. Joan was crazy for going shopping, so whoever this is must be an adrenaline junkie like her.

Max gets up the same time as Joan and I do. When Mark walks in carrying two bags of takeout food, my belly rumbles. I should have guessed it was Mark when I mentioned adrenaline. I laugh inside thinking about how perfect the two are together.

“Right, I best be going. I’ve got some pyjamas in that bag so make sure you try them all on,’’ Joan says and I look between her and Max, who is leaving the room with the food bags, in confusion.

“Let me get my coat, I’ll walk over with you,’’ I tell her, ready to get out of here. Anymore alone time with Max and I’ll shoot myself, or jump him. The jury is still out on which one.

“Oh, didn’t I tell you? Denny will be staying over at the hotel by the hospital. It seems the weather is much worse that end, blocking the main bridge. You and Max are on Hope duty. I’ve gotten you some food, a few movies and spoke to Denny to let her know you’ll be okay. She said to stay in her bed and let Max sleep on the floor,’’ she winks and grabs her coat.

“Wait!’’ I shout and she turns to me, waiting for me to speak. My mouth opens but nothing comes out. “Nothing,’’ I grumble, not wanting to be one to complain, not after everything they’ve done for me. This is the least I can do for them.

I nearly change my mind when Max comes in with two plates of food. He gives me a wink and I inwardly groan. This is going to be a long night.

*** *** *** ***

“Ladies should go first,’’ I shout at Max outraged. So far, he’s eaten my food once he devoured his, then finished my can of Pepsi and now the sod wants to choose the movie. It’s only fair that I get to choose.

“No, I put Hope to bed,’’ he smirks, skipping through the movies Joan had brought over.

“She’s your niece,’’ I deadpan. “Now, let me choose.’’

“I’m not watching that,’’ he tells me outraged.

“Yes, you are. It’s really good.’’

“It’s a bunch of overgrown apes stripping,’’ he tells me and I roll my eyes.

“It’s not the bloody
Planet Of The Apes
, Max,’’ I tell him, punching him in the arm.

“Ouch,’’ he wheezes, rubbing his arm. “No, it’s worse because they have actual man parts,’’ he grumbles, looking at the DVD like it’s an offending object.

“Oh my God, Max, just watch it, please,’’ I beg, giving him the puppy dog eyes that always worked with my dad. I can see his resolve melting. It’s working like a charm.

“Argh, don’t do that,’’ he tells me groaning.

“Come on, I promise we can watch whatever you want after. Even if it’s the scary horror movie Joan put in. What’s it called? Insidious Three?’’

He shudders which has me leaning back a little. Is he turned on by the thought of watching a horror movie or is he scared? Nah, he can’t be scared. He looks too tough to be scared of anything.

“I’ll do you a deal,’’ he says, looking at me mischievously. “I’ll watch Magic Mike if you watch that strip show with Christina Aguilera in it.’’ He’s looking at me with a smirk, looking much too pleased like he thinks I’ll say no.

No one says no when it involves having to watch Channing Tatum. EVER!

And huh? What strip show with her in it? I look through the DVDs and grin when I come to Burlesque. I used to watch this film on a continuous loop when I was back at home. I’d sing along, dance, and then do it all over again when the movie restarted. Christina Aguilera has an amazing voice. Watching this movie is no hardship.

“Deal,’’ I shout, a big grin covering my face as I hold my hand out.

He takes it, looking at me sceptically. “Why do I feel like I just got played?’’

“Watch and learn, my friend, watch and learn,’’ I tease, walking over to put the movie in. I walk back over sitting on the other side of the sofa. Before I have chance to curl up, Max is pulling me to the other side of the sofa. I squeal, surprised.

“What are you doing?’’ I ask shocked, and a little pissed. How dare he man handle me like that?

“Easy, tiger, we’ve got one spare blanket. Whatever Denny did with her sleepover ones I haven’t a clue. It’s freezing and you’re only wearing a thin pyjama set,’’ he tells me, eyeing my body like it’s not covered in said pyjama set.

Pervert!

“Oh, okay,’’ I give in. I am cold and I’ve been pressed against Max for all of two seconds and already my body is heating up.

He nods his head and throws the blanket over the both of us. I snuggle in and watch the movie.

“I cannot believe we watched all that and not even any nudity. I’m disappointed.’’

“You were complaining before about seeing men parts, Max,’’ I say, fighting back a grin. He’s right, though, the movie wasn’t all that good, but to be honest, I never really noticed anything past Channing Tatum.

“Come on, you have to agree. We sat through all that bullshit for two minutes of them prancing around at the end. I might have to become a stripper, though.’’

“You that hard up for cash?’’ I splutter, bug eyed. Why is the thought of him stripping actually pretty goddamn hot?

“Nah, but think of the women that would ride my dick each night,’’ he grins and my bug eyed expression turns flat.

“You seriously are a pig.’’

Hope’s cry comes from upstairs and Max looks at me. “What?’’ I snap.

“Your turn. I’ll put the next movie on,’’ he grins, showing off all his pearly whites.

Smacking his leg I throw the cover off us and jump up. Hope’s cries get louder the farther up the stairs I get. Joan promised earlier she was a good baby, but if this is what they call a good baby then I’d hate to see what they call unsettled.

Walking into her room and over to her cot, I find her wailing her lungs out, her face bright red with her hands and feet everywhere. I lift her up under the arms and hold her against my chest.

“Come on, little cookie, everything’s not that bad. You’ve got a home, a mommy and daddy who love and adore you, and you pretty much eat and sleep. Life’s good,’’ I tell her, trying to console her. Nothing works and I find myself sitting down – after ten minutes of pacing – in the rocking chair. Hope’s room is pretty freaking cool. If I had a kid I’d want their room to look like this. Her name is beautifully written above her cot. In fact, the whole design spread around the room is pretty amazing.

“Come on, baby. Your mommy doesn’t even know me and if she finds out that you’ve been crying for more than five seconds because I couldn’t calm you down, she’d probably string me up. You don’t want that. No one does,’’ I coo quietly.

Forgetting my hair is in the braid, Hope tugs at it like its rope. I giggle down at her when she stops crying and she keeps tugging. She tries to chew and suck on the end, but I pull it away before she can get her slobber all over my hair.

“You’ll get a fur-ball,’’ I laugh. “How about you go to sleep for me and I’ll think about us being best friends, huh? Yeah?’’