Taking Chances: Tangled Up Part 7

"This obsession with her," Dillon said. "Now that you've been able to seduce her again, are you over it?"

Jake frowned. "I'm not obsessed."

Dillon and Max laughed.

"I'm not."

"Dude, you romanced her at prom and took her virginity on graduation night and you thought that was something amazing and special. Then she told you she was sorry for the whole thing. That's been driving you crazy for years. Then last summer you kissed her again and you've spent the past year obsessed with proving to her that she's crazy about you," Dillon said.

"Come on. It's not an ego thing," Jake protested. "I like her. She's beautiful. Why wouldn't I want to sleep with her?"

The guys just grinned, and Max appreciated the conversation-even if it was at Jake's expense-that was lightening his mood.

Jake wanted to sleep with Avery because she didn't want to sleep with him. He was as addicted to a challenge, as Max and Dillon were. Along with a bit of DNA; an unmatched loyalty to, and love for, their hometown; and a desire to be big-shot heroes to the world at large, the three cousins also shared the habit of going crazy over the women who challenged them most.

Jake looked at them. "She is beautiful."

"She is," Dillon agreed. "She's also smart and no-nonsense and take-charge and kind of funny."

"What she is not, however, is crazy about you," Max added. "Which is why you're interested." Again, Max could have been talking about himself and Bree. He and Jake should probably just get T-shirts and start a club.

"You make me seem like an a.s.s," Jake muttered.

"You're sure it's not you who's making you seem like an a.s.s?" Dillon asked. "You're the one who's been kissing and teasing her for a year now."

"You've been thinking about that letter for ten," Max added.

The letter that had knocked Jake completely off his everything-is-now-good-and-right-in-the-world axis. Something else Max could relate to. Like when Bree had told him she didn't want to be his girlfriend because it was boring.

But Avery had written it down. That s.h.i.t was forever. Over time Max would forget what Bree had said.

Like maybe in another fifty years or so. Because at the moment he could still recall it word for word. Twelve years later.

He focused on hara.s.sing Jake instead of wallowing in his own memories. "I think my favorite part of the letter was when she said she knowingly used alcohol and your hormones against you."

"Oh, my favorite part," Dillon said, "was when she apologized for taking her shirt off." He tipped his water bottle toward Jake in a sort-of salute. "I know you were pretty p.i.s.sed about that."

"Time to shut up about the letter," Jake said.

"Fine," Max said agreeably. There were other ways to torture Jake. "How about we talk about you not kissing her anymore instead?"

Jake shifted on his chair. "She's never once told me to stop or pushed me away," he informed them. "Not once."

Max regarded him intently. Jake knew exactly what Max was talking about. Avery didn't push him away, but that didn't mean he wasn't doing something he shouldn't. Unless Jake wanted to step up and actually be what Avery needed, which was, for one, here in Chance full-time, then he needed to leave her alone.

Just like he needed to leave Bree alone now that the tornado had blown over. No matter how much he'd like to test that 90-percent-tornado/10-percent-Max theory he had going.

He and Bree weren't meant to be more than friends. Long-distance, see-each-other-once-a-month friends.

He couldn't train for the half marathons with her; he couldn't kickbox with her every night or hike and cross-country ski every weekend. His already aching knee throbbed at the thought.

That was one of the positive things about living hundreds of miles from her. He could come to Chance once a month and go hard for a weekend, then go back to his physical therapist in Oklahoma and b.i.t.c.h and moan through rehab after stressing his knee beyond its capabilities, without Bree ever knowing. His regular workouts were swimming and short runs and biking, and even those had their limits. Bree's favorite activities took a toll on him.

There were only two options for changing that. Surgery, which could improve his mobility but would potentially increase his pain and decrease his strength. Or Bree slowing down.

Part of him would love if she'd pull back a little, but he didn't want it to be because of him. If she could figure out for herself that taking things easier was okay, good even, he'd be thrilled. But he did not want to be the reason she gave up the things she loved.

He hated not being able to keep up with her, though.

When they'd been kids, she'd often been the instigator, the one saying, "Come on, Max!" But when he held back then, it was simply because he wanted to do other things-fish, swim, collect bugs, play baseball. She was the one always going at breakneck speeds and challenging the laws of physics. But he'd never hung back because he couldn't keep up. Now it was different. He loved being the one with her on her adventures. He hated that he was no longer at 100 percent. So he pushed it. Hard. The entire time they were together.

Which required at least a month of rehab after landing on it, twisting it, and pushing to the max of his range of motion and strength for a week.

But the surgery was no guarantee, and since his knee only bothered him when he was with Bree, and because he had the best therapist in Oklahoma working on him, keeping things exactly as they were seemed like the best decision.

Besides, it was very possible that there wasn't a single man on earth who could fully be everything Bree McDermott needed.

Max took at least some comfort in that.

"You going back to Kansas City on Monday?" Dillon asked Jake.

"I have meetings Tuesday," Jake said absently.

"Then maybe you need to leave Avery alone altogether," Dillon said.

Jake looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"You're leaving the day after tomorrow. You got a little sugar, now let it go. She's going to be swamped with stuff from the storm, anyway. There's no reason to get her all riled up or try to revisit your shed encounter, is there?"

Nope, there was no reason to revisit the ditch encounter with Bree, either.

But that little bit of sugar . . . it had been only a little, just a taste, just enough to wake up the addict in him.

Dillon leaned in, pinning Jake with a look. "So you're not trying to get her to fall in love with you now so you can get revenge for her not falling in love with you in high school and being the only single, straight female in Chance to not think you walk on water?"

Max didn't know about Jake, but Dillon's words were a direct hit for him. d.a.m.n. Dillon was good. He was a medical doctor, but he could give Kit Derby a run for her money. Which was funny because Dillon and Kit had been in constant compet.i.tion since third grade.

But did part of Max want Bree to want him because she hadn't in high school or at the f.u.c.king ski lodge two years ago and his ego was still bruised?

Yep.

He'd felt d.a.m.n good about himself when she was saying "More" in that ditch. Max grinned in spite of himself. Sure, it was torturous to think about the ditch, but that didn't mean he was going to stop. How hot and wet and sweet she'd been, how she'd wiggled and pressed against him, how easy it had been to make her come. He had a lot of experience to fall back on, and while he dished out his share of o.r.g.a.s.ms, a lot of them took some real dedication and time-dedication and time he was happy to give, of course-but not so with Bree. It had taken very little to start her up and finish it off.

Of course Bree would go hard and fast. That was her MO in everything else, so why not o.r.g.a.s.ms, too?

But remembering that o.r.g.a.s.m had Max shifting uncomfortably on his chair.

Had her being so hot for him soothed his ego bruise a bit?

h.e.l.l yeah, it had.

Bree had been bored dating him in high school. Her words. But now, and over the past twelve years, he'd been the guy she most looked forward to seeing, the guy she dropped everything for when he showed up, the guy she'd spent the past five years having her greatest adventures with.

She definitely hadn't been thinking he was boring out on old Highway 36.

Max tuned back into the guys in time to hear Jake say, "You failed your psych rotation in med school, right?" to Dillon as he shoved his chair back and stood.

"I did very well on my psych rotation," Dillon informed him. c.o.c.ky and cool as ever.

"You must be rusty, 'cause you're way off. I don't need Avery to be in love with me. She doesn't even need to like me. But if she wants to keep kissing me, I'm not going to argue."

"You need everyone to love you," Max said to Jake to show he'd been listening. Kind of. "You've always gotten off on being such a great guy.'"

"The air quotes make you seem sarcastic," Jake said drily.

Max chuckled. "I don't want to seem sarcastic. I want it to be very clear that I'm being sarcastic."

"You'd think some of my greatness would start rubbing off on you guys eventually, wouldn't you?" Jake asked. "But no. I'm still the lone good guy in this bunch."

They just looked at him.

They didn't take insults from one another seriously, ever.

Jake finally sighed. "I'm satisfied. She was totally into me today. That's all I needed to know."

Bree had been totally into him, too. Totally. Like ignore-the-tornado-overhead into him.

"Good deal. No more sugar. We're both on a strict diet for the rest of our stay."

Dillon and Jake both froze.

"You're both on a diet?" Dillon asked.

"No more sugar?" Jake asked.

Max nodded. "Bree kissed me."

"Bree?" Dillon asked.

"Kissed you?" Jake added.

"She was out watching the twister with me. Got a little close for comfort, so I threw her in a ditch and got on top of her. Saved her pretty a.s.s and got my head bashed in the process."

"You got your head bashed?" Dillon demanded, coming out of his chair.

"It was just a flying branch." Dillon grabbed Max's head in both hands and probed his scalp. "Ow! f.u.c.k, Doc."

"You got st.i.tches." Dillon let go of him.

He'd stopped at the clinic, but Dillon had been busy, so someone else had sewn him back together. That was probably what Dillon was p.i.s.sed about. He loved being the hero as much as Max and Jake. He would have preferred to take care of every b.u.mp and sc.r.a.pe on every person today. It was a b.i.t.c.h to only have two hands sometimes. "Yep. No big deal."

"Your head is the hardest of any I know," Dillon said, scowling. "St.i.tches and possible concussions are not Oh, by the way' topics of conversation, though, got it?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's Dr. Sir to you," Dillon said. "Dumba.s.s," he muttered under his breath.

Max rolled his eyes.

"Are you going to tell us more about you and Bree?" Jake asked.

"Was it good?" Dillon asked.

"Of course it was good." Max wondered if they could hear the mix of misery and want in his voice. Because, if nothing else, it had definitely been good. "Too good. It's so d.a.m.ned"-he sighed-"complicated."

"But it was good?" Jake asked. "That's something."

Well, yeah. His dream girl had thrown herself at him. He would have truly been the dumba.s.s Dillon had accused him of being if he hadn't caught her. But he'd be an even bigger dumba.s.s if he didn't realize what was behind it all. "It's not anything. It's just Bree being Bree. She's an adrenaline junkie. The storm got her all riled up, and she mistook that rush for other kinds of . . . excitement."

"You'd better be careful," Jake warned. "Tornadoes in Chance have a way of stirring up stuff you don't want stirred up. I kissed a girl during a tornado in Chance and look at how messed up I am."

"People do crazy, uncharacteristic things when they're in danger or feel threatened," Dillon said.

"Exactly," Max agreed with a nod. Or characteristic things in Bree's case. She jumped into things because of the danger and the thrill.

"What happened with you?" Jake asked Dillon.

Max focused on his cousin. Dillon did look a little . . . perturbed.

"Kit Derby," Dillon said sullenly.

Okay, that was worth pursuing. "Kit happened to you?" Max asked. "What's that mean?"

"Kit Derby, a storeroom at the hospital, and her d.a.m.ned body lotion happened to me."

"Whoa," Max commented. "Body lotion?"

"And?" Jake added.

"We kissed."

Max and Jake both watched Dillon, waiting. And got nothing.

"Jesus, Dillon, what the f.u.c.k happened?" Max demanded. Kit and Dillon couldn't be together for two minutes without snapping and snarking.

"She smelled good and we were in there alone and we . . . kissed." Dillon was clearly not happy about it.

"Just kissed?" Jake asked.