Hope flinched. “Ouch.”
Paloma shrugged. “He had his reasons. And while those reasons are gone, I get the vibe he isn’t one for no-strings sex before it was my pride that was hurt. What if I suggest it now and I offend him? It’d make working together weird. And again, I don’t see the point of messing with a perfect working relationship for lust. I’ve got toys to take care of that. I can’t find another business partner like Max.”
“Honey, if your vibrator is better company than a man who keeps up with your ambitions, I need the brand because mine just lie there taking up space like the men I date.”
Paloma laughed, tempted to point out that all of Hope’s exes disappointed her because she avoided dating the man she truly wanted—her best friend,Jackson. But since she had her own hard-earned trust issues with men she didn’t want to poke at, she kept her observation to herself.
She stood. “It’s getting late. I should get home.”
“Are you okay to drive?” Hope asked. “You’re welcome to stay here.”
“This is my second glass all evening, and I’ve been nursing it for the last hour.”
Hope rose from the glider. “I’ll walk with you to your car.”
Leaving behind the lake, they walked along the side of Hope’s house toward Paloma’s car. “I can’t believe how fast summer flew by,” she said.
“I know. But I am excited for the cider mills. I’ve been craving apple cinnamon donuts since last year.” Hope smacked her lips and rubbed her stomach.
“And don’t forget the harvest festival,” Paloma grinned. “This time, I’m taking home that blue ribbon for the coolest carved pumpkin.”
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she fished it out, expecting another call from her father. Instead, it was Max asking if leaving early for Traverse City on Friday still worked for her.
The thought of it made her stomach dip. She could see it clearly—her fiddling with the radio, searching for the perfect playlist to fill any awkward silences. And Max, his gorgeous profile, staring wordlessly out the car window. Three hours, possibly more, confined in the car with his cologne mixing with the stilted conversation.
She took a deep breath, but the butterflies continued to twirl and dip. Exhaling, she couldn’t help smiling. Despite her nerves, she couldn’t deny the spark of joy that ignited in her chest at the prospect of spending time with Max. Her thumb hovered over the reply button, alternating between tapping out a flirty and fun response or one that was all business. She went with boring.
Paloma: Works for me
Max: Great. Will pick you up at 7.
She stared at the message, so different from his usual warm texts with their playful emojis and casual banter. She’d have close to four hours trapped in a car with this new, distant version of Max.
“Earth to Paloma.” Hope waved a hand in front of her face. “You’ve been staring at your phone like it offended you.”
“It’s Max.”
“And that brief response has you frowning because . . .?”
“He’s been different lately. Withdrawn.” Paloma leaned against the porch railing. “Ever since the initial meeting with the Sterlings, he’s built a wall between us. I’d thought he was annoyed with my bitchiness when we ran into your brother and Lilith at the Coffee Bean. I was a touch,” she held two fingers wide apart, “rude. But it’s been almost a week, and the easy conversations, the inside jokes, that spark when our eyes meet—it’s all gone.”
“Did you ask him why?”
“No. Work has been crazy busy for us; we’ve barely seen each other. And why bother?” She stood and hugged her friend. “It’s for the best. Like I said, mixing business with pleasure is asking for trouble.”
“But you two would be soooo hot together,” Hope teased.
She wiggled her shoulders. “Girl, I’m hot with anyone.”
“That’s true. Drive careful and text me when you get home.”
Paloma nodded, getting into her car. Her phone buzzed again.
Max: I’ll bring the site plans.
Short and curt. Professional, distant words that shouldn’t make her heart ache, but did.
She pressed her forehead against the cool metal of her car, cursing. The end of the week would rush toward her, and then the ride to Traverse City would crawl to a standstill. It’ll be an eternity—three hours of carefully measured words and avoided glances. Three hours of pretending she didn’t miss his sunshine smile or how he leaned close when she spoke, like he wanted to take in every word.
