She swallowed. “The last time I showered in Geoffrey’s house with you around you walked in on me.”
“That was a mistake,” Max assured her. “I won’t do it again this time. Trust me.”
Still, Bo was wary. “How can I trust you? You must hate me.”
“How I feel about you is irrelevant right now. I mean, am I thrilled that you’ve cut my inheritance in half today? No, not especially. Would I make you bear the brunt of my anger against Geoffrey for that slight by walking in on you while you shower though? Also no, because I’m not a monster. Think what you want of me — everyone does, and I couldn’t care less — but don’t put me in the role of sexual predator. I’m not.”
Bo nodded mutely, staring at the floor.
“Bring a towel, change your clothes and then you and I will talk,” Max carried on. “We have a lot to get through. And Bo?”
She looked up at his use of her name. “Yes?”
The look in his eyes was suddenly and inexplicably gentle. “You can trust me. I promise.”
Chapter Five
Geoffrey’s house still felt a little like home, even though Bo now knew for certain it wasn’t. While Geoffrey had been living, she’d been comfortable enough to roam around the place, entering rooms without thinking twice and helping herself to pots and pans, plates and foodstuffs. She knew her way around the old house easily, and in Geoffrey’s final year, when she’d taken on most of the cooking, cleaning and upkeep of the property, she’d moved things around to her liking. Geoffrey had actively encouraged her to make herself comfortable, praising her for making the place ‘more like a home, and less like a museum’.
“This place needs a family,” he’d told her one day with a sigh. “It’s been selfish of me to keep it to myself. What does a lonely old man need five bedrooms for?”
“It’s your home,” Bo had replied. “You don’t have to justify that choice to anyone, least of all me.”
“I really had intended to fill it with children,” Geoffrey had continued, as though Bo hadn’t even spoken. “But then after I lost—” he’d stopped then, pain crossing his lined features, and Bo had stood to go to his side.
“I know,” she’d said, taking his hand and squeezing it. “I know.”
“After losing her, and then later, after the divorce from my wife . . .” Geoffrey squeezed her hand back. “I didn’t have the heart to put myself out there again. So, here I am, just a lonely old man, with five empty bedrooms and a garden that’s never been played in. Watching you busy yourself about the place has given me comfort, you know. Given me a glimpse of what might’ve been.”
After Geoffrey’s death, Bo had continued to keep and clean the house. She’d continued to use the kitchen and bathroom, continued to maintain the garden. Even in Geoffrey’s absenceshe’d never felt like a stranger though, comforted as she was by the familiar bits and pieces that made up his home. She knew her way around the place like the back of her hand and never stopped to consider the option that it was now someone else’s home, and someone else’s things she cared for so well and used so liberally.
Today though . . . today was different. With Max in the house —his house,she reminded herself once again — she didn’t feel comfortable to linger in the shower like she normally did, or to run a duster over the furniture or vacuum over the carpets like she normally would. She showered with the minimum of fuss, dressed quickly and then tiptoed back downstairs like the interloper she knew Max believed her to be. She was nothing more than Goldilocks in the lair of a bear who knew damn well she’d been eating his porridge and sitting in his chair.
And sleeping in his bed,her mind provided wickedly, so that there was a definite tinge of pink to her cheeks when she finally entered the downstairs study and found Max in Geoffrey’s old armchair by the empty fireplace. He looked exhausted, his head laid back against the worn green velvet and his eyes closed, dark circles underneath them. He opened them slowly when she entered the room, watching as she moved gingerly to the nearby settee and sat on it primly. He stared at her for a moment, and she stared right back at him, uncomfortable under his gaze but not in the slightest bit frightened. He’d said she could trust him, and she believed him.
“I’d offer you coffee, but Geoffrey’s kitchen is at this point a mystery to me. I don’t even know where the cups are kept, let alone the coffee and milk,” Max stated, and for a moment, just for a moment, Bo considered going to make them a pot. She stopped herself however, realizing that Max might not best be pleased by the knowledge that Geoffrey’s kitchen was no mystery to her, and that she was well versed in where the cups, coffee andmilk were kept. Wisely, she stayed still and silent, waiting for Max to continue.
“You said before that I must hate you, but the truth is I don’t,” Max carried on, and Bo blinked in surprise.
“You don’t?”
“No. I don’t even know you. Not really. It feels unwise to hate someone I don’t know. I don’t have that kind of energy to waste.”
Of all the things Bo imagined Max might say, that hadn’t crossed her mind, and she stared at him.
“You look tired,” she commented, and Max gave a short, unpleasant kind of laugh.
“What an odd reflection to make, given our circumstances.” He stared at her, as though trying to puzzle her out. “I am tired,” he finally admitted. “So tired I can feel it in my bones. So, if it’s all right by you, I’d like this talk of ours to be short and sweet rather than long and drawn-out.”
She nodded. The dynamic between her and Max had shifted since their last meeting, and Bo wasn’t sure yet how to feel about it or what to make of it. Keeping this talk short was fine by her.
“I said earlier I wasn’t going to challenge Geoffrey’s will, and I meant it.” Max said firmly, before pausing, as though waiting for her to reply.
If he thinks I’m going to thank him profusely for not suing me, he can think again,Bo decided indignantly.Geoffrey wanted me to have the garden, and while I didn’t have a blood relationship with him to stake my claim, we still had a relationship built on affection and trust, which is more than Max can say.
“I should challenge the will,” Max carried on in her silence. “I fully intended to do that this morning when I first saw it. I’m Geoffrey’s only living — well, I’m the only family he had left in the world, and up until you arrived on the scene, I was the onlyname on his will too. You can imagine how I felt this morning when I learned that had changed.”
“So, challenge the will then,” Bo retorted, almost perversely wanting to goad him into it, even at her own expense.
