Taking Chances: Tangled Up Part 9

Avery turned to look at Jake. He was leaning against the bookshelf that ran the length of Frank's office. He gave her a smile.

"A bonfire?"

"It's a way of turning the negative into something positive," Jake said.

"You think people will enjoy watching their things burn?"

Bree gave Kit a look. Kit rolled her eyes. Avery and Jake could argue about what color the sky was.

Bree tuned out and worked on not looking at Max's b.u.t.t.

"Is that right? I was getting my hands pretty dirty yesterday," Bree heard Jake say.

Bree straightened. Hold the phone. Was what this?

"That is not what I'm talking about, and you know it!" Avery exclaimed.

"If you're referring to the shed, then that's not what I'm talking about, either," he said, a smug smile in place. "After I got your pretty b.u.t.t out of that shed, I was chainsawing and digging and working-"

The shed? Bree shot Max a look. He was grinning widely and gave her a wink.

Something was going on, and Max knew what it was. Maybe she shouldn't have been avoiding him.

Bree inched closer to Max as Jake and Avery continued to argue.

"What's going on?" Bree whispered.

Max laughed lightly and moved closer to her so he could answer without interrupting the Jake-and-Avery show. "The ditch on old thirty-six isn't the only place things got stirred up."

Bree worked on not reacting to the memories that bombarded her with the simple word ditch. Or to the low, gruff quality of Max's voice when he was whispering right by her ear.

It wasn't impossible to believe she'd gotten caught up in the electricity and chemistry of the moment yesterday, but she didn't think it was all about the storm. She'd had adrenaline-fueled s.e.x before. She preferred adrenaline-fueled s.e.x, as a matter of fact. But what had happened with Max felt different from anything she'd experienced before. "Oh yeah?"

"Well, you know how it goes-close quarters, nice b.r.e.a.s.t.s, possibly your last moments on earth."

She sucked in a quick breath and fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest. Max saying the word b.r.e.a.s.t.s made hers tingle, and if he glanced down, he might notice that her nipples were happy to see him again.

Bree cleared her throat, desperate to keep Max's eyes on her face.

She lifted a brow. "I'm with you. Though I'm not as into b.r.e.a.s.t.s."

"Just trust me on that, then," Max said with a chuckle. "Nice b.r.e.a.s.t.s make everything better."

And with that, she went ahead and crossed her arms. She really should have worn something other than fitted cotton.

But his chuckle made her narrow her eyes. He didn't seem overly affected by talking about b.r.e.a.s.t.s, or overcome with memories of what he'd done to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s yesterday. Had it all just been a crazy, swirling, what-the-h.e.l.l moment for him, too?

"Really any b.r.e.a.s.t.s, though, right?" she asked.

"Any b.r.e.a.s.t.s?"

"No matter who Jake had been with in the shed, it would have been the same situation, right?" she said, even though she was definitely not talking about Jake and the shed. "It was really more about the storm than anything. Right?"

She wanted to know that what had happened out on the old highway had been inevitable. That she would have responded the same way no matter who she'd been with. That it had been some crazy unusual combination of natural forces that had turned on her I-want-Max switch, and because that exact set of circ.u.mstances would never repeat themselves, she didn't need to worry about that switch getting flipped ever again.

Except that she actually wanted to know that Max had laid awake in his bed last night replaying every second in the ditch and wound tight with l.u.s.t and confusion like she had.

Max gave her a funny look. "No way. It's Jake and Avery. They have history. There are feelings there that have been brewing for a long time. Don't you think?"

Bree's gaze caught on Max's for a second longer than necessary. All that could have been applied to them as well. She glanced at Jake and Avery. "But still, in a situation like that, it's easy to confuse one kind of adrenaline for another."

Max didn't say anything. She looked back up at him. Again, she was struck by a detail that had been a fact for as long as she'd known him but that she'd never really thought about-he was about six inches taller than she was. She was five eight, so that put him at about six two.

And so what?

Just like his hair color, it was such a dumb thing to suddenly make a conscious note of. So why had she? And why was she now realizing that his brown eyes were a shade darker than his hair? More like the color of a good stout. An oatmeal stout, to be exact.

She loved oatmeal stout. And staring stupidly up into Max's eyes was no hardship. Stupid, yes. Hardship, no.

Bree pulled her gaze away from his and worked to get her s.h.i.t together. She wasn't the type to stare into anyone's eyes; or notice eye color beyond brown, blue, or green; or to daydream in the middle of a professional meeting. Or to daydream at all, really.

She was falling apart. That had to be the answer.

"Why do I even talk to you?" Avery was asking Jake.

"Because you can't help it. For the same reason you can't help wanting to smack me."

Even Bree could see how smug Jake was about that fact.

Avery's eyes narrowed. "I should-"

A shrill whistle cut into their argument.

Everyone froze, then turned toward the sound.

It had, amazingly, come from Shelby. She was clearly upset. She had disentangled herself from her husband, and Frank had stepped back.

"Enough!" Shelby said.

"Shel-" Jake tried.

But Shelby cut him off. "No, I'm going to talk now."

The mayor's wife was very used to commanding the attention of a roomful of people-particularly the three men standing in front of her now. She was the only granddaughter on the Montgomery side of the family and had been doted on from day one. She was Max, Jake, and Dillon's first cousin, and the boys had been wrapped around her little finger since she'd been born.

Shelby put her hands on her hips. "This town is going to get back on its feet. Right now. We are going to clean it up, it's going to look better than it did before the storm, and everyone is going to do it with a d.a.m.ned smile on their faces."

Her three cousins looked like they were facing their drill sergeant. Bree was actually pretty impressed.

"Chance needs to rebuild, and we have to do it quickly," Shelby went on. "The Bronson family from Kansas will be here to see the farm and check out the town in two weeks."

No one in that room could, or would, argue with the fact that the farm and the Bronsons' visit had to be a priority. Bree put thoughts of amber eyes and nice b.u.t.ts and ditch o.r.g.a.s.ms out of her mind-or at least to the very back corner of her mind-and focused on Shelby.

She listened attentively as Shelby insisted that they all work together to rebuild Chance and ensure the farm sale went through.

And when she asked the guys to stay for a couple of weeks, they all readily agreed.

Bree frowned as the thoughts tumbled through her head. It was great. She loved spending time with Max. And there was no question that having him here would be a huge benefit to the town. But it had been a long time since he'd been around for two weeks straight. And after yesterday, it looked like she might be in for two weeks of naughty dreams and cold showers.

"You're going to be working together," Shelby said to Avery. "Jake is an expert in disaster recovery. You are our expert. It makes perfect sense that you would spend time together working on the recovery efforts. It will make the town feel completely secure and optimistic to know that you two are in charge."

Shelby then turned to Bree and Max. "Just like it makes sense for you two to work together. Chief Mitch.e.l.l wants to put Bree in charge of more of the emergency-management efforts for the police department, and Max can teach you everything he knows. Max will be in charge of building inspections and rebuilding primarily, but, as the weather expert, we're also going to put you in charge of addressing questions about the storm itself."

Max and Bree both nodded their agreement. Because it did make sense. Bree wanted to learn from Max. She just needed to figure out a way to spend time with him and . . . keep her clothes on.

Shelby finally looked at Kit and Dillon. "Everyone knows that you're two of the smartest people to ever graduate from Chance. And you're both in health care. Knowing that you're teaming up for the physical and mental well-being of the people will make everyone feel completely at ease."

The mayor's wife smiled at them as if she was so very proud of them all. "Instead of talking about how they lost their special a.s.sortment of Christmas ornaments that they collected for almost thirty years or how they can't find their granddaughter's favorite doll or how their rocking chair was found in their neighbor's evergreen tree, they're going to be talking about all of you-how the guys have stayed to help their hometown recover and how amazing you women are, taking charge and leading the way, and how you've all teamed up to pull us through this. I am sure that you can find things to appreciate about one another." Her tone indicated that they would find things to appreciate about one another.

"Yeah, for, like, an hour at a time," Dillon said.

"More like fifteen minutes," Kit muttered.

"Really?" Dillon asked her. "That's how you remember it?"

She looked down at her nails. "I barely remember it at all."

Whoa. What was that about? Bree tried to catch Kit's eye, but her friend was stubbornly refusing to look anywhere but at Shelby.

"I'd rather have them speculating about you and Dillon in the hospital storeroom during the tornado than wondering if their insurance is going to cover," Shelby said to Kit.

Bree felt her eyebrows climb her forehead. She swung to look at Kit. "What happened with you and Dillon in the storeroom?"

"Nothing," Kit insisted.

Dillon just ran his hand over his face. Max and Jake grinned widely.

Uh-huh. Bree was going to get this story later. If not from Kit, then from Max. Apparently the boys had been sharing more than the girls had about what had gone down during the storm.

Dillon and this storeroom story had to be why Kit seemed a little off today.

So it seemed that everyone had been knocked off-kilter by the storm.

Dillon started to speak again. "Shelby, I-"

Shelby turned to him. "Dillon, if I want you to dress up like a clown and juggle flaming batons in the town square to make Aunt Gigi smile, you will do it and thank me afterward for the opportunity."

Bree couldn't quite hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her mouth. Dr. Dillon Alexander was a big bada.s.s. Bada.s.s as in practicing medicine in the midst of jungles and civil wars and the aftermath of hurricanes and earthquakes. He'd done a lot and seen a lot. All the guys were pretty bada.s.s, really. But Jake was charming and Max was fun-loving while being bada.s.s. Dillon was the serious one. He could be charming, but she wasn't sure that he'd ever been fun-loving. At least not since the love of his life had died in a car accident when they were teenagers.

But Shelby Harvey was going toe to toe with him. And she was winning.

"I was just going to say that I'm happy to help," Dillon said mildly.

Shelby nodded. "I know." She pulled her purse strap up on her shoulder, kissed her husband on the cheek, then turned on her heel and left the office.

The door shut behind her with a resolute thud followed by a moment of silence.

"What just happened?" Kit finally asked.

There was a chuckle behind them. "You think an EF4 packs a wallop?" Frank asked. "You've been hit by a storm otherwise known as Shelby."

"We didn't stand a chance, did we?" Avery asked.

"Nope," Frank said cheerfully.

"Hi."

Max swung around from where he'd been studying the ceiling above, making notes and cussing about the fact that he couldn't climb up there and check things out for himself.

Bree stood in the doorway of the barn.

"Hey." He took in several details at once.

She was out of uniform-and in a black tank top and a pair of jeans that had obviously been a part of her wardrobe for some time, judging by how faded and fitted they were. She also had a tool belt around her hips, which, for a guy like Max, was just below lingerie on his list of turn-ons. But maybe most notable was the grin she wore.

"Where do you want me, boss?" she asked, propping her hands on her hips and looking around.

The ditch. Again. Up against the wall. Across Frank Harvey's desk. Max's bed. According to all the dirty thoughts he'd had since yesterday, there were several answers to that question.

None of which were appropriate.

"What do you mean?" he asked, turning to face her fully.

"I'm here to help." She focused on him again. "Chief Mitch.e.l.l said you were looking for additional hands in doing the inspections. So you can have both of mine."

Max shook his head. So many problems there. Mostly that Bree mentioning him having her hands also sent several inappropriate thoughts tripping through his brain. Her hands. His. Where his had been the day before . . .

"You don't need to be using your hands somewhere else?" he asked. Then worked on not wincing, as that, also, sounded completely s.e.xual.

He was starting to think that everything about Bree and this trip was going to sound s.e.xual. And maybe not just this trip.

Dammit. It wasn't his fault. He'd given her an o.r.g.a.s.m. That was kind of hard not to think about. Constantly. Especially when hands were mentioned.

Her smile faded, and her hands dropped from her hips. "No. I'm so bored."

Max lifted an eyebrow. "Bored?" G.o.d, he hated that f.u.c.king word from her, even if it wasn't being applied to him.

Besides, that was definitely not the word he would have chosen to describe the last twenty-four hours in Chance. Exhausting, depressing, crazy, worrisome-those were a few. And for those to occur to Max meant that those souls who were less optimistic and less p.r.o.ne to staying upbeat were probably really struggling. Max found the good in everything, looked on the bright side, all of that. But sometimes it was harder than others.