As soon as that thought came, she shoved it aside. She could read people easily. Max was a good and decent guy. Her time with him today had proven how kind he was.
She opened the door. “Max? Is everything all right?”
He’d had his hands crossed behind his back and now brought them around to reveal a basket. Inside was a French silk pie. She’d called the kitchen as soon as she’d arrived at her cottageand asked them to deliver one to Max. It wasn’t a double chocolate, but it was homemade by their pastry chef and was excellent.
His expression was sheepish. “I was hoping you might consider joining me for a piece of pie.”
“It’s yours. You won it fair and square.”
“You deserve it too.”
“I couldn’t—”
“Please. I would love to have some help eating it.”
Winzig stood a dozen paces away in the shadow of another employee cottage.
“I’m sure Winzig would be happy to help you. And Braun—”
“Braun is too busy at the moment with his fantasy football league Zoom call.”
“Braun is in a fantasy football league?”
“What you call soccer.”
“But Braun?” The expert cashmere-scarf knitter? He was in a fantasy football—soccer—league?
Max cocked his head. “Are you doubting me?”
“I guess I didn’t expect him to have that interest.”
“Perhaps people are not always what they seem to be.”
Was he referring to himself?
“And Winzig”—Max nodded in the man’s direction—“claims he does not like French silk pie.”
Emberly released a pretend horrified gasp. “I guess you really do need some help.”
He bowed slightly. “I would be greatly honored to have your assistance.”
She knew she ought to tell him no. It was getting late, and she was ready for bed. But after being ushered away from his cabin earlier by her brother, she couldn’t squelch the frustration that had been festering. She was a twenty-five-year-old woman, for crying out loud. She could decide for herself when to go home forthe night. And she could also decide that she wanted to eat pie with a man at 11:00 p.m.
She glanced behind her to her living room with the one sofa. She didn’t dare invite Max in. Not only was it against their ranch policy to bring guests into their living quarters, but she didn’t let other men—except for family—into her cottage. That had included Ryan when they’d been dating.
Her gaze shifted to the lodge through a thick strand of spruce that hid the employee cottages from the sight of the guests. They could eat at one of the patio tables behind the lodge. But the temperatures had dropped, and they would grow cold too easily.
She could take him up to the dining room. Even though it closed at eleven, she had keys to get in.
She reached for her coat and boots. “Let’s go eat pie.”
His lips curled up into a slow smile, relaxing his features and making him look more youthful.
As they walked to the lodge, he didn’t seem in a hurry and even stopped a couple of times to admire the waterfall in the moonlight. It was especially pretty in the winter, with parts of the cascading water having turned into sheets of ice.
When they reached the dining room, only a few of the staff were still there doing closing tasks. In spite of her bravado, she didn’t want word getting back to her brothers about her late-night, pie-eating rendezvous with Max. It wasn’t worth their censure. So she detoured into one of the private dining rooms and led him through the dark to a moonlit table near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the river and waterfall.
While Winzig positioned himself outside the door, she and Max sat across from each other with the pie between them and ate right from the dish. He had the thermos of decaf coffee she’d had delivered with the pie, and they sipped coffee out of crystal goblets, the only thing they could find in the room.
