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“You don’t want to know what. Now, get in your truck and follow me. Or I’ll put you in mine and make one of the guys follow us. The choice is yours.”
5
MAX
Idon’t know if I should be surprised or not that she chose to be a brat.
Now, she’s sitting in my truck, chin on her hand, staring out the window. It takes every ounce of control I have not to reach over and lay my hand over the swell of her stomach in hopes of feeling it again: that flutter of movement that tells me this is real.
Instead, I grip the steering wheel tighter as I pull down the main street before turning onto a cul-de-sac where a row of bungalow homes lay. Trees dripping in orange leaves line the road, covering lawns and the sidewalk in swaths of burnt-orange, yellow, and brown litter. I drive us to the end of the street and pull into a short driveway.
“I thought you lived on the farm,” Honey says as Benson pulls her truck in behind us, taking the street parking directly in front of the house.
I glance at her as I shut off the engine. “I do.”
I’ve had the bungalow for years, but just never seemed right moving in. I bought it off one of the old ranch hands when he got sick and took over looking after the place so he could live peacefully, and got the keys back when he moved into hospice. It never felt right moving in after him, though.
The only reason I don’t stay here is because I’d be surrounded by families and children and all the things I never wanted to deal with again. Until now.
I look down at her and just shake my head. “I’m taking care of it for someone. They won’t mind.”
Her lips pull in a frowny pout as she looks at the house. “Figured. It’s too homey for someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
She nods as she pushes open the car door. “Yep.”
I follow her, annoyance building in my chest. A small part of me wonders if that’s a hint she has no desire to stick around. If the way she really feels is starting to come out. I shouldn’t be shocked if that is the case. She’s seven months pregnant already. She had a list of all the different Max Gilberts in the area. She could have found me a hell of a lot sooner. So, why wait so long?
Honey rounds the front of the truck, one hand on the swell of her stomach while the other braces against the hood of the car. “It’s cute. Quaint.”
“And not me,” I say, crossing my arms.
Benson approaches with his hands raised, keys dangling from his fingertips. I snatch them with a shake of my head and hand him the keys to my truck. “All yours.”
He quirks a brow. “Shit. Seriously?”
“Yes,” I sigh. “Don’t be a dickhead with it, though. And do not let any of the other hands anywhere near it or the keys. Or it’s your check I’m using for the damages.”
“Grumpy boy,” Honey teases, voice low as she steps away from the truck. “Thank you for bringing mine over.”
A flush forms on Benson’s cheeks as he ducks his head. “N-no worries, ma’am.”
Honey laughs, and the sound has something in my chest cracking. It’s a lightness I haven’t felt in a long time. I might have experienced it for a moment when she and I were together the first time, but it’d been so brief, I’d talked myself out of ever thinking about it again. But here it is, blooming warmth in my chest, expanding as her smile is directed at me.
“Tell me this place has food. I’m starving,” she says, and the warmth dissipates as I curse.
“No, it doesn’t,” I growl, turning to Benson. “Go on. I’ll let the boss know I won’t be in for the rest of the weekend.”
Honey makes a sound of protest, but I shoot her a look. “I was just going to say, you don’t need to babysit me,” she says, raising her hands like Benson had. “Damn.”
I rub my eyes. “Go,” I say to Benson. “And you.” I turn to her fully as he scrambles for my truck, jumping in and turning it on. I hope I don’t regret this later. As much as I trust the guys who work under me, I don’t necessarily want them in my space—or touching what’s mine.
“God, you are so prickly,” Honey says before I can utter another word. “I’m not going anywhere, clearly. You don’t need to get all bossy.”
I blink as I watch her start for the bungalow. “What?”
“You’re acting so…extreme. It’s okay. You and I want the same things. I’m not leaving town, so stop acting like you’re my guard or whatever. Also, I’ve been totally fine the last seven months without you being all growly and grumpy. I think I’ll be fine now, too.” She doesn’t look back as she climbs the short staircase leaning up to the porch, and it’s only when she groans that I come out of my stupor.
