Max Page 19

I’m numb that he’s given so much thought to this and my head spins a little. But I nod.

“Good,” he says and barrels forward. “If you could paint four nights a week and maybe a little on the weekends, how many paintings could you do?”

Another quick mental calculation, which is difficult because, hello—brain is numb—I tell him hesitantly, “Two . . . maybe three. But why only four nights a week?”

Max gives me a slightly chastising look and says, “Because you need a night off, Jules. You need a damn break every once in a while.”

Oh, damn . . . another rolling wave of mellowed euphoria rolls through me that someone—no, in particular Max—cares enough about me to want me to have some time off from my crazy schedule.

But I can’t be overly swayed by how good that feels, because what he’s proposing is overwhelming and terrifying, not to mention it sounds like I’m a charity case or something.

But Max isn’t finished with his proposal. “If you can sell at a minimum two paintings a week, that’s four hundred dollars and double what you make at the gas station.”

“But there’s no guarantees I’ll do that,” I point out.

“There’s no guarantees Chris won’t fire you the next time you run into childcare problems, and you know that’s going to happen, Jules.”

“But I’d be giving up a secure job.”

“I guarantee you will be able to find another part-time job if the painting doesn’t pan out. Trust me on that.”

“You said this was a loan,” I interject, because I need to clarify exactly what he’s saying.

“Yeah, I knew you wouldn’t take it as a gift,” Max says, and you can tell he put thought into all of this. “So you can pay me back an amount from each sale. Say . . . twenty-five dollars per painting you sell.”

I cock an eyebrow at him. “That would take me forever to pay you back.”

“I know,” he says in a low voice that’s devilishly teasing. “Keeps you in my life longer.”

More warmth and it makes me want to step into him, burrow my face into his chest and snuggle in for a long ride with this man. But that’s a little forward, so instead I tell him the truth of my feelings. “I don’t know what to say to that. I know you say it’s a loan, but really Max . . . I’m not sure that’s what it is.”

He turns slightly and puts the loan document on the top of my car before turning back and stepping up to me. His face is somber as he places his large hands on my shoulders. It’s a gentle touch but it’s also secure. I have to fight myself not to let out an involuntary purr.

“Look, Jules,” Max says quietly. “I’ve figured out you’re the type of woman that will not accept handouts, and that you’re the type that will bust your ass to reach your goals. But I don’t want you to pass up this opportunity to really make something of your talent. It’s too wasteful to do that. So, don’t accept a handout from me, but perhaps think of it as a hand up. If you want it to be a loan, then it’s a loan. You pay me back and I accept that, although I’m completely fine with you just accepting it as a gift too as you have to know it’s not denting my wallet.”

I snort and give an amused shake of my head. “I have a counter proposal. I’ll accept it as a loan and quit this job, but on that fifth night, how about I clean your house or maybe cook meals for you for the week and you can take that off the loan as well. That way I can get it paid back quicker.”

Something flashes in Max’s eyes and I can see it’s consternation I won’t take a day off from working, but his tone is light and teasing when he says, “Is it bad if I say I’ve got images now of you in a sexy maid outfit?”

I laugh, my head falling back because it’s fucking funny. When I straighten up to look at him again, I poke a finger in his chest and tell him, “I’m being serious.”

“So am I,” he says with a wink.

I drop my chin and bat my lashes at him. “I’ll wear a sexy maid outfit if you give me time and a half.”

Max’s hands squeeze on my shoulder and he groans. “Jesus, Jules . . . you’re killing me here.”

He stares down at me expectantly, and I chew on my lower lip as I think about it for just a moment. Well, really not even a moment. It would be crazy for me to pass this up as long as he knows I’ll pay him back.

“Okay,” I say with a solid nod of my head and determination in my voice. “I’ll do it. It’s wild and impetuous and totally out of character for me these days, but there’s something about you that makes me believe anything is possible.”

Max’s lips curve upward and his eyes shine with relief and happiness. He leans his face down closer to mine. “There’s something about you that makes me believe everything is possible.”

My heart actually expands with a burst of confidence and rapture, before contracting back inward with a replete feeling of solace. In this moment, I have to believe Max was brought into my life for a reason, and in this moment, I realize I want to give him a chance as much as his crazy ideas to turn me into a real artist.

Since I’m being impetuous and taking risks, I step into him, pressing both hands to the solidness of his chest. I can feel Max take in a breath and hold it as he stares down at me.

“Now might be a good time for that first kiss,” I whisper.

“To seal the deal?” he murmurs.

“No,” I tell him with a smile. “I’m still going to insist we sign the loan agreement, but the kiss is because I really, really want you to kiss me. I’ve been thinking about it since you mentioned it yesterday at Sweetbrier.”

“I’ve been thinking about it a little longer,” he mutters.

“Well, consider me caught up, okay?”

Max’s eyes practically glow, and while I’ve gotten use to the soft look of care he always gives me, now I see passion laced throughout and it causes tingles to race up my spine.

He slides both of his hands from my shoulders inward to my neck, and oh, wow . . . that feels really nice. They continue slowly upward until his thumbs catch me under my jaw. With only a tiny bit of pressure, he tilts my head back and my mouth parts slightly. Holding me in place, Max leans down to me and touches his lips to mine. My breath immediately rushes out in a sigh of complete abandon and my fingers curl into his shirt.

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