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  Chapter Four

  She knew it was silly, but Bethany was relieved that Max didn’t come back for the rest of the day. She felt kind of like the wife who has a dream her husband is cheating on her, then gets mad at him for it. It wasn’t Max’s fault she had an extremely fertile imagination but she wasn’t sure she really wanted to see him right now. Besides, she was a master of avoidance.

  She still felt emotionally exhausted so tonight’s party was just what the doctor ordered. She’d have one drink too many, sing ‘Copacabana’ on Char’s karaoke machine until everyone begged her to stop, and try to put last night’s sleepwalking episode out of her head.

  Even though Charlotte had told her not to bother, Bethany made a point of heading over to her house early. Char and Jacob had just moved into a sweet little starter home across town, and they were having a ball hosting parties for their various friends. Bethany had been invited to all of them, but at a couple of parties for Jacob’s work friends, she didn’t really know anyone so she just helped Char. It kept her busy and made her very popular whenever she’d bring out a fresh tray of yummies. Besides, it was much safer to play waitress than it was to open herself up.

  She always worried that people who talked to her at parties were just humoring the boring girl. But tonight’s guests would pretty much be people she knew so she wouldn’t have to worry quite so much. She’d still feel like a third wheel ten times over, but at least she was tagging along with friends.

  “B, everything’s under control. Why don’t you get yourself a drink?” Charlotte looked completely put together and unfrazzled as she prepared platters of food, stocked the picnic table outside with booze and greeted guests. She really was the hostess with the mostest.

  Bethany had happily done whatever Char needed but the thought of a nice, strong margarita on the rocks made her taste buds tingle. She was thrilled to find Paul manning the makeshift bar because he had a heavy hand when mixing drinks.

  “Buy ya a drink, little lady?” She rolled her eyes at his sad imitation of John Wayne.

  Paul had a way of cheering her up — everyone, really. When he was in a group, he was always upbeat and perky, but Bethany knew there was a dark side to him as well. They’d bonded as the odd men out of their group — his gayness, her chubbiness, their combined singleness — and shared some of their personal demons. And when Paul’s demons came out, life got very dark for him.

  But he was here, which meant he was feeling good, and that made her happy.

  “Margarita, if you please.”

  Paul scoffed. “Margarita?! What, are you a wimp? Here, try this.” He poured a shot — a very healthy shot — of tequila and handed it to her.

  “Where’s the lime and salt?”

  He scoffed again. “In the kitchen, where they belong. Only pussies use lime and salt.” She squinted at his challenge, even as his eyes twinkled with mischief.

  “A lady doesn’t drink alone, sir,” she shot back at him. His face broke into a grin.

  “Deal!” He poured himself a shot, tinked glasses with hers and they downed them together.

  “Whoo!” they both cried in unison, their faces twisting in boozy agony.

  After they recovered, Paul poured them another round, snaked his arm through hers and dragged her off to a dark corner of the yard. Partygoers chatted and drank, though Bethany knew from experience that sooner or later, all that booze would disappear and the party would get wilder. Right now it was pleasantly mellow, her favorite time.

  Once settled on a small bench, they sipped their drinks. “Goddamn, I love a good sipping tequila,” he said hoarsely after a particularly healthy sip. Bethany nodded her agreement because her throat was burning too much to speak.

  “So,” he said, clearing his throat. “What’s new with you?” He eyed her conspicuously. He knew about Max, she could tell. Charlotte must have blabbed.

  “Don’t be coy, Paul. It doesn’t become you.”

  He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Fine. Spill.”

  Bethany told him everything up to last night’s dream. She still felt weird about it, and she felt silly for it. Besides, it wasn’t relevant.

  “Ooh, girl…” he crooned as he polished off his drink. “He sounds absolutely edible! Why aren’t you fucking him right now?”

  Bethany shook her head at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s not interested in me. He’s just being neighborly.”

  “Why do you always do that?”

  “What?”

  “Put yourself down like that. Why is it so ‘ridiculous’ to think some scorcher doesn’t have the hots for you?”

  Bethany flushed and sipped her drink. He was right, she didn’t have the best self-esteem, but for good reason. “You know perfectly well that the only guys I attract are drunken losers. Remember that asshole last year? Girls like me don’t get guys like Max.”

  Paul rolled his eyes again. Bethany was starting to hate that particular mannerism. “You can’t blame those assholes you date because — and I’m going to say this very slowly so your pea brain can absorb it — you pick them!” He tapped her forehead to make his point.

  “You’re blaming me for their bad behavior?!” This was incredible! Anger started welling inside her but she didn’t want to make a scene so she downed the rest of her shot and glared at Paul.

  He took a deep breath and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Darling, you need to look in the mirror. You’re fabulous. You’re beautiful. You’ve got a killer rack and an ass Kim Kardashian would kill for. Men all over town are lusting after you.”

  Bethany shook her head and looked away, not believing a word of it.

  “You’ve got all this going on, yet you settle for the shittiest of shitheads. You practically beg them to treat you badly and then are surprised when they do. It’s not that you only attract assholes, but for some reason you think those are the only guys who could possibly be attracted to you. It’s not true and you need to get over that.”

  Paul relaxed his grip and let what he’d just said soak in. Could it be true? Could he be right that her string of ‘bad luck’ with guys was really by her own doing? That was a bitter pill to swallow.

  “Are you saying I deserved that guy calling me a fat slut?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to process what he’d said.

  Paul gasped. “Is that what you heard me say? No! You didn’t deserve that, and when that guy gets out of jail, I’m going to personally kick his ass.”

  Bethany harumphed and glanced at his slight frame.

  “Well, I’ll get some friends to do it, anyway. No, B, what I’m trying to tell you is that you knew that guy was a dick when you started making out with him. You knew he treated women like pieces of shit stuck to his shoe. He’s got the worst reputation in town. So why did you fuck him?”

  She shrugged, but she knew. Deep down, she felt she didn’t deserve anyone better. And that made her feel even worse. Her pathetic love life was a product of her own making.

  Paul’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. “I’ve watched you brush off a dozen cool guys over the years because you thought they were too good to be into you. It’s a rare guy who’s going to pursue you when you put up such big walls.”

  His words rang true. Every time a friend had said some cute guy liked her, she thought they were just trying to boost her ego. But she was realizing that wasn’t the case. She’d always compared herself to her skinny friends, but she did have assets that guys liked, so maybe some good ones could be attracted to her after all.

  Or maybe one good one in particular.

  “Take this Max character,” Paul was saying. “I haven’t seen him in action or anything, but if you think he’s flirting, then he must practically begging you to fuck him.”

  Bethany laughed. “I wish! But maybe you’re right. Maybe I need to set my sights higher. And, let me tell you, they can’t get much higher than him.” She nudged Paul and winked lasciviously.

  She grew serious and sighed. “I du
nno, Paul. Do you really think it’s possible someone like him could want someone like me? Honestly?”

  “Girl, you’re a babe. You’re a curvy, delicious hottie. About seven male heads — and one or two female heads — just about spun off their necks when you walked by. There’s one dude who can’t seem to take his eyes off you, and let me tell you, I wouldn’t kick him out of bed.” He nodded toward the back deck.

  Bethany followed his gaze and locked eyes with Max. Her throat clamped down and her pulse thumped loudly in her ears. She was already flushed from the tequila but now she must be glowing like an ember. What was he doing here?

  Paul caught her reaction and looked back and forth between them. “What…noooooo! Is that the guy?”

  She felt paralyzed but was able to nod the tiniest bit. As always seemed to happen when she locked gazes with Max, she was unable to avert her eyes. He seemed as surprised to see her and she understood why when a sultry redhead sidled up and latched onto him. She cooed into his ear, causing him to glance down at her.

  Released from his magnetic pull, Bethany turned her wide eyes to Paul, tears welling up in them.

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” He stroked her arm in an effort to comfort her without making a big public display out of it.

  She nodded, shoulders slumped. “It’s okay. That makes a whole lot more sense anyway.”

  “No, it doesn’t!” he said, a little too loudly. He adjusted his volume and continued. “Stop putting yourself down. You don’t know what the deal is. I mean, he keeps looking over here, so it can’t be all wine and roses. Besides, she’s a hag.”

  She took a deep breath and braced herself. No way was she going to let him catch her tearing up over him. Nope. Not gonna happen. She stuck her finger in her eye, pretending she had something in it when she was really removing the evidence of her weakness.

  “I say go for it,” Paul said. “When you go over there tomorrow, let him seduce you. He clearly wants to.”

  Bethany laughed. “Sure, that’s why he’s at a party with a hot redhead instead of asking me.” It was her turn to roll her eyes. She was recovering from the shock of seeing Max here and sliding back into her old comfort zone. She was stupid for letting her hopes get too high. As much as she’d wanted to believe he was interested in her, she knew it was a pipe dream. And the proof was sashaying through the party with her sex toy in tow.

  * * * *

  Bethany spent the rest of the party helping out in the kitchen as much as possible and doing her best to avoid Max. Every once in awhile Charlotte would shoo her outside, where she’d spot him starting to move toward her so she would hurry back inside. At one point, she was head down in a sink full of dishes when Charlotte tapped her on the shoulder.

  “Bethany, I’d like you to meet some folks.”

  Bethany turned and found herself facing Max and his stunning date. “Max, Ursula, this is one of my dearest friends, Bethany. B, Ursula just started working with Jacob, and this is her friend Max.”

  Bethany was transfixed by Ursula’s amazing eyes. They were the lightest golden brown she’d ever seen. She wondered if they were contacts, they were so vibrant. She mindlessly extended her dripping gloved hand to the woman who glanced down and gave her an amused look.

  “Oh! I’m sorry!” Bethany took the opportunity to break their gaze and turn away to pull off her gloves. Now slightly more composed, she turned back and shook Ursula’s hand. She desperately hoped the broad smile she plastered to her faced didn’t look as plastic as it felt.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Urusula. Max, nice to see you.”

  Ursula looked between them. “You know each other?”

  “Bethany’s my next door neighbor,” Max explained quietly, never shifting his eyes from Bethany’s face. She didn’t want to get sucked into his tractor beam so she avoided looking at him.

  Ursula’s face bounced between them, trying to figure out what the connection was. Tension filled the tiny kitchen as Max stared and Bethany looked everywhere but at him.

  The surprise that had flashed on Charlotte’s face was quickly replaced with the pleasant, nondescript mask of a hostess caught in an awkward situation. “Well, isn’t that a lovely surprise. Um, I have a few more people to introduce you to in the other room.”

  Charlotte led Ursula from the room, but Max didn’t budge. Just his looking at her so intensely was enough to send heat coursing through her veins. Her core tightened and the dampness that was forming did nothing to cool it.

  “Bethany, I—”

  “Max!” Ursula reappeared at the kitchen entrance. Her nostrils flared and her golden eyes flashed. “Our hostess would like to introduce us to other people. Why don’t you let Betsy get back to work?”

  Max leveled a hard look at his date. “It’s Bethany.”

  “My mistake,” she shot back. “Shall we?” She extended her hand to him, like a mother would to a child.

  Before he could turn back to her, Bethany turned to the dishes in the sink. “Nice to see you, Max,” she said over her shoulder. “Hope you have a good time.”

  She felt him linger a moment longer before leaving with Ursula. Tears welled up again, but she brushed them away angrily. What did she have to cry about? It wasn’t like they were dating or anything.

  “B? You okay?” Paul must have seen the whole thing.

  “Yeah, I’m just going to finish up here, then I’ll come find you.”

  But she never did. Instead, she grabbed her coat and purse when no one was paying attention and went home. But not before a quick stop at DQ for a hot fudge sundae.

  Chapter Five

  Sunday seemed to drag out forever. Normally, her weekends flew by far too fast, but today seemed interminable. She’d agreed to go to Max’s for a late afternoon barbecue, but that was before she knew he had a girlfriend. He obviously just wanted to be a good neighbor, and didn’t know she’d misread his friendliness, so bailing now would be rude.

  He’d told her not to bring anything but she needed to do something to expend all the nervous energy that had built up inside her, so she set to work on a blackberry crisp. The woods out back had several thick berry patches and a walk would do her good. She’d left tense and anxious, but came back an hour later relaxed and covered in purple stains.

  She showered while the crisp was baking and took care when getting ready. Even though Max wasn’t interested, she was taking Paul’s advice to heart and putting an effort into making herself feel attractive. And there was no time like the present to get started.

  Every piece of clothing flew out of her closet as she tried to figure out what to wear. This outfit was too fancy, that one too casual. She finally settled on a pair of shorts that showed off the shapely lines of her legs while covering the more jiggly bits, a form-fitting short-sleeve blouse that showed off her ample cleavage, and wedge sandles. Let him see what he’s missing, she thought as she applied a touch of makeup and dried her long blond hair.

  The crisp had cooled enough to handle by the time Bethany smelled the grill heating up. She settled her nerves, took a deep breath and slid open her back door.

  “Hey, Max!” she called, a little too casually, as she sauntered over to his side of the yard. “Smells good. What is it?”

  “My specialty, salmon. Whatchya got there?”

  “My specialty, berry crisp.”

  His broad smile made her heart skip a beat. “Perfect! I picked up some vanilla bean ice cream for dessert so it can be berry crisp a la mode. You’re a genius.”

  Bethany blushed at the compliment. “Where…?”

  “Oh, probably should put it inside so the bugs don’t get to it. Grab yourself a beer from the fridge while you’re in there. I also picked up a bottle of some frou-frou wine, in case you prefer that.”

  Feeling saucy, and with nothing to lose, she winked at him. “Beer it is!”

  She’d never been in this side of the duplex before, but just as she figured, it was a mirror image of hers. But Max’s decor
was much different — African masks, Asian tapestries, Turkish rugs. It was an eclectic mash-up and she found herself drawn to it. Each piece had a story, that much was clear. She could almost smell the spice, hear the market noise, feel the thick air. It was nothing at all like her boring mass-produced Swedish furnishings.

  After grabbing a beer, she found herself staring at a painting of a glacier slipping into the sea between impossibly tall mountains. The stark beauty of the scene at once made her want to cry and smile. It was breathtaking.

  “I took that on Baranof Island in Alaska.” She jumped at the sound of Max’s voice then glanced over her shoulder at him.

  “What do you mean ‘took’?”

  He smiled. “You know, like with a camera.”

  Bethany squinted and leaned into the painting, realizing it wasn’t a painting at all but a photograph. The opacity of the pale green water wasn’t a liberty taken by an artist, but the true color of the glacier mixing with the sea water. “Wow. Beautiful.”

  Max eased up so close behind her she could feel the heat coming off him. “Mmmm,” he growled in agreement.

  Bethany sucked in breath and got a nose-full of his scent. The same uncontrollable feelings that had washed over her on their first meeting threatened to embarrass her again. Nope, not this time, she told herself as she eased sideways out of his gravitational field.

  “You’ve got quite a collection of art here.” She was trying to keep the conversation light, but being in such close proximity had shaken her to the core. She couldn’t explain her body’s reaction to him, she just knew she needed to keep her distance.

  Max crossed his arms and leaned a shoulder into the wall. A smile played at his lips as he watched her walk around the apartment admiring his art collection. “Thanks. I like to have a souvenir of every place I visit.”

  Her gaze flicked back to him. “You’ve been to all these places?”

  “Yup. I sort of work in diplomatic services so I’ve traveled a bit.”