Taking Chances: Tangled Up Part 16

It was his loss. It really was.

But she really did feel like she was missing something.

Five more students from the university showed up just then, pulling Max and Bree out of the sudden staring contest they seemed to be having.

Introductions went around, all the students taking their chance to tell Max how much they admired his work and how excited they were to be in Chance with him.

"And this is Bree McDermott," Max said to the group. "She's a police officer here in town and an integral part of the emergency-management and recovery effort here. She was with me when the storm hit," he said. "You can ask her questions, too. What it's like to organize rescue efforts, the role of the police department, what it was like out there when the tornado touched down, anything."

Bree straightened. She couldn't help that her thoughts went to inappropriately dirty places thinking about what it had been like out there with him during the tornado, but she couldn't help being surprised by the way he'd introduced her. Not just at him using the word integral to describe her role, or him insinuating she had knowledge and experience the students would find interesting, but at the note of pride she thought she heard in his voice.

The students looked at her with intrigue, and over the next thirty minutes, she answered three questions about how the police force prepared when they knew the storm was coming. She couldn't deny that she felt a little thrill talking about it, and at the interest from the students. She was proud of the job she did and the people she did it with, and it was fun to talk about it.

When the talk and questions turned to cloud formations and the track of the storm, Bree knew she should head home to bed, but she wasn't quite willing to leave.

A lot of what Max was telling them was stuff she'd heard over and over-there was nothing unusual about the topography, geology, or atmosphere around Chance; the tornadoes here had all formed like any other; the fact that Chance had been hit so hard and so often was a true mystery.

But today, something kept her there perched on the railing of the gazebo, listening. And it wasn't the cute Ashley with stars in her eyes.

It was Max.

This was the Max who went out storm chasing and sat on the tailgate and watched the clouds with a building excitement that was palpable in the air around him. This was the Max who grinned at her before strapping on his goggles and pushing off the most challenging run in Breckenridge. This was the Max who whooped a loud "h.e.l.l yeah!" after landing from a jump.

This-teaching, talking about the weather, answering eager questions from students who shared his pa.s.sion-was clearly as thrilling for him as any of the high-adrenaline activities he did.

And watching him like this made all the earlier itchy, wiggly energy return. Like someone had turned on a burner underneath her, Bree felt the heat building as she listened to him and, more specifically, watched him.

Max Grady was hot, no matter what he was doing or talking about.

Dammit. When had that happened? And how had she missed it?

"Hey, boss, uh, I think we need you."

Max turned away from talking with Dave Atkins, the plumber who'd been looking at the damage at the school. There was a leak in the kitchen, and it had taken far too long to find where it was coming from. They were going to have to redo some pipe work, and that meant tearing up part of the floor. This was not good news.

"What's the problem?" he asked Bill, one of the contractors who'd come in from Kingston to help out.

"Said her name is Bree."

Max bit the inside of his cheek to keep from swearing. Bree. Of course it was.

"What's she doing?"

"Climbing around in the ceiling and taking videos," Bill said. "She's come upon a bunch of live wires and wants to know what to do about them. Thought maybe you should take this. I don't know what the wires are for, but from how it looks to me, could be a fire hazard. Not sure if you want to kill all the power to find out what's going on or what?"

Bree was up in the ceiling with live wires that could be a fire hazard.

"Why is she the one up there?" Max asked, striving to keep his voice calm as he started for the hallway where Bill and a couple of others-apparently, including Bree-had been working.

"Well," Bill said slowly.

"What?"

"She climbed up faster than anyone else. Overheard us talking about getting up there to see what's going on. Shimmied up the ladder before I could a.s.sign anyone."

Max could tell the other man was frustrated.

Max was well beyond frustrated.

"Where is she?"

"Hundred yards that way," Bill said, pointing down a hallway to his right.

Max stomped in that direction. She wasn't even supposed to be here. She should have been out hauling branches or directing traffic or helping serve sandwiches at the shelter. Something safe and easy.

She was here because of Max. But sonofab.i.t.c.h. If she wanted to learn about what he did, she needed to stick by him. If he wanted to keep her out of trouble, apparently he needed to keep her right by his side. But the last place he wanted her was within arm's reach.

It was like there was an electrical current running between them. If he looked at her directly, touched her hand, brushed against her, shocks of awareness zipped between them. If he grabbed her wrists and pinned her against the side of a gazebo, it was like he was holding on to an electric fence.

He needed a day off from her. At least. Instead, he'd had about six hours off while she'd gone home to sleep. Not nearly enough.

"Bree!" he yelled when he was at the bottom of the ladder she'd used to climb up.

"Max!"

He located her voice about four feet farther down. "Get your a.s.s down here! Come down the way you went up!"

"Did you see the photos?" she called back. "Are those wires a concern?"

"Of course they are! Get down here!" Max barked. "Now."

He didn't have to see her face or hear her to know that she'd just sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. "If you cut the power, it won't be a problem. I can get the rest of this done."

He grabbed the ladder and climbed up. He got his head above the ceiling tiles and shone his high-powered flashlight around the area above the ceiling. She was a few feet to his right. She had her tool belt on, which, in spite of himself, made him almost smile. Too bad gummy bears wouldn't keep her from getting fried from touching a live wire or burned up if the ceiling caught on fire.

"Get your a.s.s over here, now!"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "No."

"What?"

"Someone has to do this inspection, Max. I'm taking photos and video for you and the guys to look at later. You can talk me through what you're looking for."

"I'm not in the mood for this," Max managed through gritted teeth. He was clamping his jaw so tightly his temples were beginning to throb.

Just one day off from her. Just one day off from her being everywhere he turned, tempting him, driving him nuts. It was one thing for him to spend a week with her on a vacation where their relationship was clearly defined and agreed upon on both sides. They were friends. They'd been friends for twelve years. No matter how attractive he'd found her, no matter how much he might have wanted her deep down, it had worked because he'd never seen her naked breast, never had his finger pressed deep inside of her, never let her know, in no uncertain terms, what she did to him.

But even all that would have been okay-in that he would have eventually gotten over it, probably-but now she was asking him for more. She wanted him now, too. And was reminding him of that every second she got.

And he was stuck here now. He couldn't escape at the end of the weekend or use the excuse that he had to get back to Oklahoma. He was committed to being here until the cleanup was done. Worse, he was supposed to be working with her, side by side.

This was his own personal h.e.l.l. No question about it.

He was a good guy. Basically. He didn't deserve this.

"If I come down now, someone else will have to get up here," Bree said reasonably. "I just have to go a little farther."

She wasn't wrong, and that p.i.s.sed Max off, too. Someone had to check this out, and she was already up there.

He shone his light around and located the bundle of wires she was referring to.

As he looked around, his gut tightened even further. There was a lot of damage up here. Tiles to the ceiling under her were missing, parts of the roof overhead were gone, ducts were hanging loose, and some of the support beams were torn away.

He swallowed hard, his emotions quickly shifting to annoyance because she wasn't listening to him. "Bree, this is a mess. Come down. We'll tear out the ceiling so we can really see what's going on."

"I'm already here. Just tell me what to do about the wires, Max." Exasperation was clear in her voice.

"Don't do anything about the wires," he said. Squinting at them from where he was, he couldn't tell what was what.

She sighed heavily. "If they're a hazard, we need to cut the power or cover them or something, right?"

They needed to cut the power. But to do that without cutting the whole building required a closer inspection to determine which wires they were.

Dammit.

"Don't make me come up there and get you, Bree," Max warned.

She turned toward him more fully and lifted an eyebrow. "There's no way you can climb up here and throw me over your shoulder."

Distracted by the idea of that, he asked, "You don't think I can?"

"I think your knee will make that pretty d.a.m.ned difficult even if I don't flip you over my shoulder, put my perfectly functioning knee in your back, and handcuff you."

He stared at her. Had she just blatantly pointed out that his knee put him at a disadvantage? They never talked about his knee. Or that it might not allow him to do something she could do. And had she just threatened to handcuff him?

He knew she'd done a lot of self-defense training. But she couldn't actually throw him. Could she?

"You think you could flip me?"

"No question about it. Especially knowing your weakness."

Whoa. There it was again. They were going to just put his knee out there like that?

"Not cool, Bree."

"And you insisting I get down from here is cool?" she asked. "I'm an intelligent woman, Max. I get that there is some risk up here, but someone has to do it, and I want to learn. Since I knew you would say no if I asked, I decided not to ask first."

And wasn't that just exactly like her. "Dammit, I-"

"And," she went on, "you can't climb up here and do it. Your knee won't let you. I get that, and it doesn't matter. I know that you're not totally comfortable with these other guys here today. You don't know them; they're not from here. But I am. I care about all these job sites as much as you do, and you do know me. You can boss me around and second-guess me because we know each other and I won't take offense. I can be your eyes and hands up here. You can guide me through it, and I'll follow your directions to the letter, I promise. But you have to admit that you need help and that I can be the best one to give it."

Max let oxygen pump in and out of his chest a few times before answering. She was right . . . again. He couldn't get up there, but it drove him nuts to have someone else do it. The other contractors would not appreciate him questioning everything they did, and they wouldn't be taking pictures and videos so he could get eyes on the problem. They also wouldn't be taking every one of his suggestions. In fact, if he p.i.s.sed them off, they might slap something together just to get it done or walk off the job completely.

He'd been balancing on a narrow edge with them since the tornado had hit. He wanted to do it all himself. Since that wasn't an option, he wanted to control every piece of what they were doing. It was making him p.i.s.sy and wasn't winning him any friends.

Bree really might be the answer to those problems.

If he could get past the fear that seemed permanently jammed in his throat.

"Fine," he conceded shortly. "I'll walk you through it."

Her whole body seemed to relax as she sighed. "Okay. Let's start with these d.a.m.ned wires. Tell me what to do."

"Get closer. Don't touch them, and keep your feet on the wooden beams," he told her. "I need you to get photos of the wires and send them to me so I can tell what's what. If we can figure out what they are, we can maybe cut just a portion of the power."

She walked carefully forward, getting within inches of the wires. She leaned in and started snapping photos.

Max's phone dinged as she sent them over as texts. He opened them and somehow pulled his eyes from her to study what was in front of her.

"Can you get a better shot of the other side?" he asked.

She stepped wide, putting a foot on another beam, and leaned in.

Yeah, his knee would not have let him do that.

And he knew it was inappropriate, but he couldn't deny that her a.s.s looked fantastic in her jeans when she leaned over like that.

"Max?"

He jerked himself back to the moment. Bree was watching him with an expression that meant she'd already asked or told him something he hadn't heard.

"Yeah?"

"Now what?"

He looked down at his phone again. The photo clearly showed which wire was which. This was good.

"Okay, follow the black one up with your flashlight. Can you find the box it came from?" he asked.

Bree shone her flashlight on the wire and traced it up. She had to take a step forward to see behind the rafter overhead.

"Careful," he told her. "Step back to the right, and go forward from there."

He would not survive watching her b.u.mp up against a live wire and electrocuting herself.

She did exactly as he'd coached. "I think I see it," she told him, peering into the shadows above her and way out of his line of sight.

"We need to get to the box and check the labels. Then we can shut down the breaker," he told her.