Max’s indigo eyes seem to darken under the fluorescent lights as his gaze drops down my body. Honestly, I didn’t expect anyone to see me like this. I’m sure I look like a hot mess. My hair is in a low messy ponytail stuffed under a backward John Deere hat that has seen better days. I’m wearing a black sports tank and yoga shorts with my old Doc Martens boots, and I have this tan leather apron that my dad gave me years back to help protect my clothes when I work.
At least the apron is hiding the under-boob sweat.
Max seems at a loss for words as he opens his mouth and struggles to speak. Finally, he stammers, “Um…good. I just smelled something, so I wanted to check.”
I gesture to my charred board. “Yeah, sorry. I was just doing some burning on this piece I’m working on. I opened a window and thought that would help. I can take this outside, though.”
“No, no,” Max rushes out, holding his hand up. “It’s fine. I was just…worried.”
I rub my lips together, ignoring the intensity of his eyes. “Sorry.”
“I said it’s fine, Cassandra.” He breaks eye contact and stares down at the floor by my feet. “I’ve seen a lot of tools in my life, but this one is new.”
I laugh and move to pick it up. He walks over to inspect it, and the scent of his cologne mixing with the smell of charred wood has my legs feeling like they could give out at any second.
I swallow the thickness in my throat. “It’s a weed burner. I use it to torch the wood and give the grain pattern more pop. I saw you had a regular torch in here, but it takes forever with those tiny things. This big guy gets the job done much quicker.”
His brows flicker slightly at my last comment as the corners of his mouth turn down. He runs a hand over the charred wood.
“Careful, it might still be hot.”
He pulls his hand back, rubbing black ash between his fingers before sliding them into his pocket. “You really love doing this, don’t you?”
“It’s my therapy,” I answer honestly, and he turns curious eyes to me, his gaze roving over my face, probably covered in sweat and soot.
“What do you need therapy for?” His question is gentle and different from the way he’s pried into my personal life before.
I shrug. “Various reasons…but I think everyone needs a release of some sort, don’t you?” Why does everything I say sound so sexual?
His eyes fall to my lips, and my stomach swirls with desire. When his gaze travels even lower, I think he’s noticing the beads of sweat falling down my cleavage, but I inhale sharply when I realize his eyes are zeroing in on the faded hickey over the swell of my breast.
Fuck.
His jaw muscle pops, and he quickly snaps his focus back to my board. With a raspy voice, he breaks the heavy silence. “At some point, are we going to get back to normal?”
My head jerks back as I stare at his chiseled profile. “Why do you think we aren’t normal?”
He moistens his lips before turning to look at me. “You haven’t been texting me this week.”
“What?” I ask, taking a step back to get some space from his intoxicating smell so I can understand what he’s saying.
“The Everly update texts.” His face looks vulnerable and younger than I’ve ever seen it before. “You haven’t sent me a single one this week. Last week those texts were the best part of my days.”
“Oh…” I blink back my shock, my pulse quickening in my veins at his shocking admission. “You never say much back.”
“I’m usually in meetings,” he replies, his jaw taut. “But I see them. I see them all. And I reread them before I fall asleep every night. It makes me feel like I’m a part of her whole day.”
My heart lurches at the image of Max lying in bed rereading my messages. He’s probably shirtless, wearing a snug pair of Calvin Klein boxer briefs. Maybe he even sleeps naked. I shake that thought away, and my voice is wobbly when I respond, “I didn’t realize you enjoyed them so much.”
“I love them.” He inhales deeply and turns to face me head-on, maintaining eye contact that I find impossible to look away from.
“I’ll start sending them again next week,” I rush out and chew my lip nervously. “I’m sorry for stopping them.”
The corner of his mouth morphs into a thoughtful smile. “Thank you.”
Shame blankets me that I went an entire week without updating him about his kid. It’s unforgivable. “And I promise you that’s the last time I ever let anything that happens between you and me change what I share with you about Everly.” Max frowns curiously as I take a step toward him. “I’m upset with myself for doing that. I let my own emotions get in the way of my job, and I assure you that’s out of character for me.”
“I deserved it,” Max replies through clenched teeth.
“No, you didn’t.” I steel myself to say the next bit. “What happened between us was nothing I need to be coddled over. It was two consenting adults who had a moment. Nothing more. I promise you, I’m not some love-sick female looking for a relationship.” I take a deep breath before revealing the next bit. “The truth is, I’m in a bit of a transition in my life.”
“Okay…” Max looks perplexed, and it’s kind of adorable.
“I mean, honestly, I don’t even know why I was so upset.” I laugh and adjust the hat on my head. “Sexual frustration, I suppose.” Good Lord, did I just say that last part out loud?
“Sexual frustration?” He quirks a brow.
Yep. Said it out loud. Best own it now.
“Yeah…sexual frustration.” I remove my goggles and slide them over the edge of my apron, feigning indifference like I talk about sex all the time. “Women experience blue balls too, Max.”
“They do?” He looks shocked again, and for some reason, I’m enjoying the way his feet are shuffling uncomfortably. If I have to live with that hot kiss in my mind all day, so can he.
“Sorry, I’m oversharing.” I offer a rueful smile as my cheeks heat and that under-boob sweat returns with a vengeance. I need to redirect this conversation before I say anything else. “I just mean, you don’t have to worry about me anymore. I’m not looking for anything from you—you made it clear that I’m not what you want, which is all good! In fact, I’ve decided that I’m on the hunt for a casual summer fling with a stranger. So rest assured, you are off the hook.”
I laugh awkwardly and realize I’m still oversharing. My God, Cozy. Shut up. This is like bad interview 2.0. Just abort this conversation. He doesn’t need to know about the epiphany you just had. Simply reassure him that you’re going to be a good nanny and you can both move on with your lives.
“And I promise you that when I find a guy, it won’t get in the way of my time with Everly,” I blurt out, feeling like I need to bring the focus back to Everly, not Max. Everly is who’s important here.
“When you find a guy,” Max repeats as he scratches his fingers through the whiskers on his jaw. His forehead lines stack on top of one another, and I hope he’s not thinking about firing me again. “Okay then.”
“Okay?” I reply with relief and smile warmly. “Great! I’m glad we had this talk. I feel so much better.”