Neighborly Complications (Stories of Serendipity #1) (22 page)

“Okay…”

“Nothing has changed between us, Claire. I want you to know that. I need you to know that I understand, if for whatever reason you don’t trust me, because of Tom, or whoever. And I can see why you would be even less inclined to do so with that box under the bed.” He grasped her hand and pulled it up to his mouth, kissing her knuckles, then rubbing them over his cheek. “But you have to understand, I still feel the same feelings for you that I did earlier today. I still want to have a relationship with you. I want to share your life. I want to help you do things. I want you to help me. I want you, Claire. Just you. Not your gold. Do you understand?”

He kept his voice quiet, trying to convey meaning with its intensity. He held her hand, rubbing it with his thumb, attempting to stroke away all of her doubts about him.

“I do, Max. I trust you.”

The words made his chest swell. “Can we do it?”

She nodded as she smiled a smile that stole Max’s heart. “Yes.”

“Good. Because right now I want to make you forget about everything bad that’s happened in the last two days.” He kissed her then. A soul-scorching kiss that curled her toes.

Claire wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down on her bed, and returned the favor.

M
ax’s tongue flicked over Claire’s bud, amid squeals and whimpers of ecstasy, while he held her pelvis down with one hand and watched her come for him. He’d never seen anything as beautiful as her flushed face, mouth wide in sheer pleasure, ragged breaths, Jesus Christ. He could come just watching her. He slid a finger in to feel the muscle contractions ease as her climax waned. It was one of his favorite feelings in the world, feeling her come undone around his fingers.

He waited for her thighs to relax around his ears before slowly crawling up the bed to hover over her heaving body. Slowly, her eyes opened and his heart stopped for a moment as he gazed at the love shining out of her eyes. Max kissed her as he deliberately entered her slick heat. Letting out a groan as she enveloped him, Max paused to cherish the sensations, nibbling on her neck as she adjusted to his girth.

So fucking tight.

He rocked in and out of her leisurely as she met his thrusts with her hips, sinking him deeply into her. He watched her face as her thrusts became more and more forceful. Leaning back on his heels, Max raised one of Claire’s delicate ankles to his shoulder, turning to kiss it, before slamming into her. Her eyes widened with surprise at his forcefulness, but the groan that she let out told him it felt good, so he continued his pounding, listening to the slap of their bodies coming together.

He loved this woman.

As they climaxed together, Max let out a guttural roar, as his spine tingled before filling the condom with his seed. He collapsed on top of Claire, feeling spent.

“You can’t fall asleep on top of me. I have to go make the cinnamon rolls.” Claire was trying ineffectually to push him off. He snorted at her.

“As if. I can’t move.”

“Max!” She slapped at his bicep, and he grabbed her wrist, rolling and pulling her on top of him. The fire in her eyes was unstoppable. “I have to make the cinnamon rolls. The first guest is scheduled to be here in an hour, and I have to start the soup, and make the rolls, and make sure Summer is bringing over the goat cheese for the…”

Max’s hand brought her face down into a crushing kiss, effectively shutting her up for a minute. He lost himself again in Claire’s taste, her hot little tongue swirling around his mouth. When he let her go, she was gasping, and he smirked at her wickedly.

“Fine. I’ll get up.” He started to move, “But now, you’re on top of me, so if you’ll excuse me?” She rolled her eyes and slapped at him again before moving off of him.

He watched her rummage around her drawers for a clean pair of panties and a pair of jeans that she paired with a matching bra and extremely sexy sweater. He hardened again at the thought of peeling it all off her later tonight, after the guests went to sleep.

“Did you hear anything from the District Attorney today?”

Claire turned to him, while running a brush through her wavy locks. It had grown out to a little below her shoulder, and Max thought the look suited her. Not that she wouldn’t look great bald. “Yeah, actually. It was a guilty verdict, and the judge should be handing down the sentence on Monday.”

Pride surged in Max as he remembered Claire’s endurance as she fingered the accused in the courtroom and detachedly told of them delivering the appliances and then later breaking in and attacking her. The police had actually fingerprinted her house, finding both sets (along with Max’s) on the molding on the walls. It was an open and shut case, especially with her testimony.

Claire’s eyes took on a desperate quality, and Max sat up. “What’s wrong?” Did they threaten her? He would kill them.

“I’m nervous, Max. We’re booked solid this weekend, plus the next two months. What if I mess something up, and people start to cancel because I’m a horrid Inn hostess?”

Max stood and pulled on his jeans before walking to her and pulling her close. He wrapped his arms around her, feeling her heart pound in her chest.

“You’re going to do great. And I’ll be next to you the entire time, unless you send me out to grab something we forgot. And Summer’s on standby too. We’re here for you, Sugar.” He leaned down and kissed her, because he loved the way her lips felt against his. “Always will be. Don’t forget that.”

At Claire’s suggestion, Max had moved in with her and put his own house on the market, filling her spare rooms with his furniture. He had thought she would be skittish at first, but it had worked out really well so far. The fights they’d had were minimal, and mostly just for effect, because the making up part was so much fun.

His attempt at Grant writing for the Serendipity Historical Society had fizzled, as they’d decided to go with somebody’s nephew from Houston. The disappointment had been minimal though, as Max had his hands pleasantly full with Claire and the Inn.

They decided together that Valentine’s weekend would be the perfect weekend for the Grand Opening of Dunlap Inn. It had booked almost as soon as they’d started advertising. Apparently, Serendipity seemed like a lovely romantic getaway for couples looking for a weekend retreat.

Max squeezed her waist. “I’ve got a real quick errand to run, but I’ll be back in time to make sure you don’t need me to run and get something else we’ve forgotten for the guests. Okay?”

She nodded and he kissed her nose.

Claire squeezed his shoulders gently before leaving the room. Max checked his pocket to make sure the little box was still there, then shrugged on a tee shirt and a flannel before whistling his way down the stairs and out to his truck.

When he returned, he snuck his package up the stairs and into their room before returning to join Claire in the kitchen. The smell of buttery cinnamon assaulted him.

“My god, that smells awesome. Do we have to share?” She giggled and nodded and Max went behind her to nuzzle her neck with his cheek.

“The Farquars are here already. They’re upstairs unpacking and settling in. I told them dinner’s at seven.” Claire walked over to stir something on the stove. “I really hope I’m not overextending myself with this dinner thing.”

“I think it’s a great idea to have some sort of hearty soup and finger foods. Lots of people don’t want to worry about evening meals while they’re out of town, and soups freeze really well. If you don’t serve it all, stick it in the freezer for different customers. You’re doing great.” Claire had spent many sleepless nights agonizing over how to make her B and B stand out from the crowd, eventually deciding to turn it into more of an inn with more services. She had partnered with the Chamber of Commerce and other local businesses to set up tours of a local winery, an art gallery and for the more adventurous, a chicken farm. Summer had filled the library with books for guests to read and purchase while they were here, with an entire shelf dedicated to local history and authors.

He kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to find something to do outside so I can greet the other guests when they get here.” He had to admit, he was just as nervous, if not more so about the evening’s events. Claire had gotten her nerves out by puttering around in the kitchen. He needed to do something with his hands.

At the dinner table that night, the guests oohed and aahed over Claire’s baked potato soup, which Claire modestly deflected with grace. Max filled them in on the interesting sights to check out around town during their stay, and the guests complimented the couple on their home.

“Do you two live here? It’s an absolutely breathtaking home. You are so lucky to have it.” Mrs. Banyon, an older lady with shiny silver hair and sparkling blue eyes was daintily sipping her soup from the spoon. George and Hazel Banyon had arrived late, apologizing profusely for getting lost driving through Dallas.

Max reached over and clasped Claire’s hand in his, bringing it to his mouth in a casual kiss without really thinking about it. Every woman at the table noticed it. Mr. Farquar reached over to his wife and clasped her hand as well, in an unconscious gesture. They had come in from Waco, like the other two couples, looking for a quiet romantic getaway for the holiday weekend.

“We do live here, Mrs. Banyon, and we’ve done all the work on it ourselves, so we really appreciate that you think it’s so beautiful. A lot of blood, sweat and tears have gone into the remodel.”

Claire laughed. “You should have seen it when I first moved in.” Her laugh, as usual, made Max forget to breathe for a second before he recovered himself.

“How long have y’all been married?” The youngest couple, the Davises, had come in from another small town nearby. Max guessed they’d only been married a few years, they still looked to be in their twenties.

“Oh we’re not married,” Claire said it with an easy smile.

Mrs. Banyon put her spoon down. “Why on earth not?” Seeming to catch herself, she picked up her spoon again and spoke more quietly into her soup. “I’m sorry. Ignore that. It’s just young people these days don’t realize how short life is. Just messing around and never committing to anything…”

Max squeezed Claire’s hand and waggled his eyebrows at her, eliciting another smile.

Mr. Banyon changed the subject from Claire and Max’s love life, thankfully. “This is an old house. Any ghosts?” His eyes lit at the prospect, and Claire and Max exchanged smiles before answering in the negative. Since they’d found the gold, Edie hadn’t made another appearance. Apparently her work here was done, and Max knew that Claire found comfort in the fact that her aunt had rejoined the rest of her family in the great beyond.

As the dinner hour drew to a close, Max’s nerves grew progressively worse. His anticipation levels were at an all-time high, and he could hardly stay still. His leg was tapping out a staccato rhythm under the table, and is fingers drummed along on his thighs. He helped Claire clear the table and put away left-overs before he finally turned her into his arms.

“Everybody’s fine for the evening. They’re either in the study, or they’ve already gone up to their rooms. It looks like the Davises will be the night owls this weekend, and I’ve given them instructions to lock up before they go to bed. Come on.” He grabbed her hand to lead her upstairs.

“I can’t possibly go to bed, Max. I still have too much nervous energy.” Her eyes pleaded with him.

“That may be, but nobody wants us under foot. They’re all here for a romantic weekend. Let them be romantic.” He tugged again, and when she resisted, he tugged harder, pulling her into his arms. “I have a romantic gesture of my own, and the anticipation is killing me.”

Claire sighed in his arms, and the sense of utter satisfaction that Max felt holding this woman was almost too much for him to handle. He stroked her back, “Come upstairs with me.” She nodded and followed him.

When Max opened the door to their room, Claire’s surprised exhalation sent a surge of pride to his toes. Things were starting off right.

He’d come up while Claire was putting the finishing touches on dinner under the pretext of getting himself ready. He’d spread the rose petals around, lit the candles, and sprayed the curtains and sheets with linen spray that smelled like some sort of flower, freesia he thought. The effect was romantic.

“I know, it’s cheesy, and I was going to wait for tomorrow night, but was afraid that after two days of guests, the stress would have you worn out completely.” He felt a little self-conscious that he couldn’t come up with some grand creative romantic gesture, but he decided to go with what had worked for men throughout the centuries.

Soft guitar music floated through the room, and Claire’s eyes widened.

“What is that?” She glided towards the balcony, and went outside, clapping her hands together in delight. “Hi Les! How are you?”

Max followed her, and saw Les on the ground below the balcony, serenading them with classical guitar music, his skilled fingers deftly stroking notes from the instrument.

He grinned up at the couple. “Trying to be unobtrusive. Just pretend I’m not here.” He lowered his head and focused on the guitar.

Claire turned to Max a question in her eyes. “This is too romantic, Max. What’s going on?”

He shrugged. It was now or never. Before he lost his nerve, he got down on one knee, clutching Claire’s hand in a death grip that he didn’t dare let her loose from. It was his lifeline, what made him whole, and he wasn’t ever going to let her go.

“Claire Dunlap.” He took a deep breath and watched as her eyes widened with recognition. Her mouth opened to say something, but Max stopped her. “Please let me get these words out without you interrupting or arguing with me. As much as I love the fire in your face, that wasn’t exactly how I imagined tonight would go.” She closed her mouth and let him continue, one eyebrow raised.

“For the last five years, I’ve been hollow inside. I was a shell going through the motions of life to keep myself functional, but not cognizant of life around me. I didn’t want to see life anymore. Any color had faded from my life long before you moved into this house.”