Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Three months later.

“Istill don’t understand why the hell we’re doing this,” Max grumbled as he helped Noah set the window frame in straight. “I don’t want my own house.”

“Maybe because Luke’s getting married at Christmas and he doesn’t want to see your naked ass in his bathroom every morning?” Noah adjusted the angle of the sill, checked it was level and banged a couple of nails and a wedge in to keep it where he wanted it. “You can rattle around here all by your lonesome.”

Noah’s tan had faded from his honeymoon in Hawaii, but he occasionally smiled and looked almost happy, which was just plain weird. He’d also taken to annoying Max, which wasn’t new, and hanging out with him, which was.

“Why are you always here?” Max demanded. “Doesn’t Jen need you at home? Or is she sick of you already.”

“She’s totally in love with me. She understands why I’m doing this.”

“Well, I wish someone would explain it to me.” Max held the frame steady as Noah leveled the top edge. “I don’t need babysitting and I’m not a flight risk.”

Noah looked at him. “That’s an improvement. Last time things didn’t go your way, you disappeared on us.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Hey, I appreciate any signs of maturity coming from you, bro.” Noah anchored the window and carefully stepped back. “Now, if only there was something we could do about your pigheadedness.”

“That’s a big word for you. Have you been talking to Luke?”

Noah’s grin was infuriating. “We talk about you all the time.”

Max was aware everyone was treating him like an invalid, and he hated it. Noah wouldn’t even be goaded into a fight and Max would love to kick someone’s ass.

“I’m fine.” Max stepped back over the unfinished floor to look at the window. “Shall we get the other one?”

“Might as well and then you can come over to my place and have dinner. Jen’s expecting you.”

Eventually, after extracting a promise from Max that he’d be over when he’d cleaned up, Noah headed out. Max made sure all his tools were back where they should be and swept the floor where they’d been working. He glanced out of the newly fitted windows that faced the view at the back of the ranch house he’d grudgingly helped design. The sun was setting, and the forest was ablaze with color.

They’d been lucky so far with no outbreaks of fire near them, which, after the terrible winter, was a relief. Cattle died just as easily during drought as in the winter storms and they couldn’t take another financial blow.

Max took a tour of his new home, which had three bedrooms plus the master and en suite, a small study, and a large kitchen/family room in the center with spectacular views.

He’d put in a lot of work—not particularly because he wanted to live alone in a house meant for a family, but because it kept him from thinking too hard, or running, He’d heard sporadically from Maria, but nothing from his parents, which suited him just fine. Phoebe hadn’t contacted him since she’d let him know she’d arrived safely back in England, but that was hardly surprising. He’d sent her away—held the door open and almost pushed her through it with a cheery wave. No wonder she was pissed with him.

He was pissed with himself.

He took one last look at the sunset and picked up his toolbox. Once the windows were in, the house would be insulated from the outside, and they could install drywall, finish the plumbing and electrical, and get the wood flooring in. Max smiled to himself. That would keep him busy until Christmas. After that? He couldn’t allow himself to think that far ahead.

* * *

Phoebe wiped the sweat off her brow and contemplated the wall she’d just finished painting white. It was the last of the interior walls of the stables and outhouses attached to the Georgian dower house she’d finally pried out of George’s hands. The home itself had been rented out for years but was in remarkably good condition. It was a large square box with four windows on each side of the central door, two stories and attics above that. Wisteria and roses grew along the front, and it was surrounded by a stone wall.

She’d coveted it for years and when her father told her that it was her dower house, she’d immediately started making plans as to what she’d do with it. Those adolescent plans had included marrying either royalty or an Olympic show jumper, neither of which had come true, but she still loved the house.

She stashed her paint pots and washed the brushes, aware that she’d be stiff in the morning and that there was no one to offer her emu oil or a massage. She let herself in through the stone-flagged kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. The room was always warm courtesy of the Aga installed where the old range had sat.

She suspected the antiquated heating system would struggle to keep up in the winter. George had offered her the services of the team of estate handymen who maintained his land and properties, and she’d accepted his olive branch with gratitude. He was a surprisingly frequent visitor along with her grandmother and occasionally Eugenie. If Phoebe had been of a suspicious nature she might wonder if they were checking up on her. Did they think she’d fly back to the US?

The kettle whistled, interrupting her thoughts and she made herself some tea. After sending her a thumbs-up acknowledging her text about her safe arrival, Max hadn’t contacted her once. To be fair, she hadn’t reached out to him either because part of her was still cross. He could have fought for her—asked her to stay, begged her to change her mind, but he’d literally pushed her into leaving with a smile and a wink.

Phoebe groaned. She was tired of running her last few conversations with him through her head and micro interpreting them. Had he really meant he felt the same about her as she did about him, or had he just been joking? Maybe the whole thing had been a giant laugh for him all along.

Her head said yes, but her heart and her gut said no. She’d reached him and his reactions to her had been genuine. She knew it in her soul. But his faith in her had been rattled by Maria’s clumsy intervention in his life, and then George had turned up spewing nonsense . . .

She missed him so badly.

Her cell buzzed and she took it out of her pocket, noticing a smear of paint on the back.

Hi, how are things? Finished your painting yet?

Eugenie was working in London, but she still made time to contact Phoebe every day.

Just about done with the stables. Hot carpenter is coming tomorrow to look at the woodwork.

Ooh, I love a man who’s good with his hands. Is he married?

I’m married, Eugenie.

Then you’d better set about getting that divorce, then. Love you x.

Phoebe’s smile died as she finished sending her sister a happy face. Was history repeating itself? Was she going to have to chase Max down again to obtain the divorce he obviously wanted?

Dammit. She set her phone on the table with more force than was probably necessary or good for it.

She didn’t want another man. She’d given her heart to her husband. If he wanted a divorce, maybe it was time for him to get off his arse and come and get her.

She scrolled through her contacts and stopped at J.

Hi, Jen! I know it’s early where you are, but I’d love to talk to you.

She’d barely finished typing when her phone rang.

“Hey!” Jen said. “Thank goodness you’ve called. We’ve got to do something about Max. Any ideas?”

* * *

“It’s looking good,” Noah said as he took a glug of water from his flask.

Luke had just gone back to the ranch to check on dinner and Max and Noah were admiring the new floor that had just gone in. They’d hired some professional help and acted as labor because they weren’t about to damage the reclaimed redwood they’d painstakingly gathered from the forest floor.

“You pleased with it?” Noah looked over at Max. “You haven’t said much.”

“It’s awesome.” Max contemplated the kitchen. “I’m just working out how I want to finish the kitchen cabinets to tone in with the floor.”

“You could go full on redwood,” Noah suggested.

“Too dark,” Max said. “But something with warm tones to complement the floor.”

“You need a woman.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “What’s that got to do with what we’re talking about?”

“You need someone to knock ideas around with, and give you their opinion.”

“Fine, I’ll get Bernie and Jen to help.”

“They’re not who you should be asking.” Noah screwed the lid on his flask.

“Sally, then?”

“Don’t be an ass.” Noah faced him. “You have a wife.”

“Who lives in England.”

“You could still call her.”

“Why?” Max demanded. “To make her mad at me all over again? To make her think I want her back when she’s already made her decision?” He turned toward the door. “I’m sick of all these insinuations, Noah. If you’ve got something to say, then say it, or get off my case.”

“The thing with you, Max, is that you’re really good at handing shit out and terrible at taking it.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Noah strolled toward him. “Okay, here’s a direct question for you. If you’ve decided your marriage is over, then why haven’t you divorced Phoebe?”

“Maybe because she’s the one who left?”

“You practically laid out a red carpet to make her leave the country!” Noah said. “And last time you were an inconsiderate bastard, she chased you down, so why should she have to do it again?”

Max unbuckled his tool belt. “You know this is none of your business, right?”

“Hell, like you weren’t the first person sticking his nose into my and Luke’s love lives.”

“Because you both needed help!”

“And you don’t?” Noah raised an eyebrow. “You’re miserable as shit without Phoebe and you do nothing to fix the situation.”

“I did what I thought was best.” Max set his jaw.

“For whom, Max? From how I see it, you asked her to marry you as a joke, got stuck in a commitment you didn’t want, and then when you realized she was a real person with feelings, you panicked and got rid of her as fast as you could.”

Max pressed his lips together and tried to get past Noah who was now blocking the exit.

“Which just proves you don’t know shit.” Max walked right up to Noah. “Excuse me.”

“Tell me where I’m wrong then, genius?” Noah didn’t move an inch. “Gonna run away again because it’s too hard to admit what you did?”

Max slowly raised his head to meet Noah’s gaze.

“Don’t do this, okay?”

“Do what? Ask the guy who’s supposed to be one of my best friends why he made a good woman marry him just for kicks?”

“I didn’t goddam ask her to marry me!” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and somehow, he couldn’t shut up. “And I let her go because it was the best thing for her.”

Noah looked at him and Max sighed.

“She needed to be married to get her inheritance.”

“Okay.”

“And she needed to go back to the UK with her brother.”

“Why?” Noah frowned. “You might as well spit it out, Max. You’re not going anywhere until I understand what’s going on.”

“You’re going to physically stop me?”

“Sure.” Noah shrugged. “But I hope it won’t come to that because Jen told me to try and be nice.”

Max gauged the size of his opponent. If Noah really meant it, he didn’t stand a chance. He sighed.

“There were . . . legal complications about Phoebe’s inheritance. First off, they didn’t believe I existed, and then when I finally met George, he shuffled the deck and made me an offer.”

“Let me guess,” Noah said. “He paid you off?”

Max scowled. “Hell, Noah, do I look like the kind of guy who’d do that?”

“Maybe.” Noah considered him.

“Thanks for nothing.”

“Then if he didn’t offer you money, what did he offer? Let me guess.” Noah’s eyes narrowed. “Something for Phoebe’s benefit?”

“Yeah.” Max nodded. “What she wanted free and clear if she didn’t come back to the ranch after the wedding.”

Noah stared at him and said nothing for so long that Max got irritated.

“You out of smart remarks? Can I go now?”

“You did it for love,” Noah said slowly. “You let her go so that she could get what she wanted without any strings attached, which makes you—”

“One of the strings,” Max said firmly. “And I’m going to tell you something, bro, being noble ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

Noah reached out and gripped Max’s shoulder hard. “Still proud of you for doing it, though.”

“Get off me.” Max finally managed to push past Noah, who was looking way too sympathetic for Max’s liking. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind erasing this entire embarrassing conversation from your Neanderthal brain, I’d be delighted.”

“Not happening, Max.” Noah called after him and Max held up the obligatory finger.

He knew that by the time he sat down for dinner, everyone at the table would have been informed of the current pitiful state of his love life. He contemplated going to the next town over and finding a bar. But at some point, he’d still have to come home—to the house he was building and coming to love.

And, hell, if anyone at the ranch could offer him a way out of the Phoebe problem that didn’t involve him jumping on a plane and throwing himself at her feet, he was all ears. Because, house or no house, living without her was killing him.

He set off back to the main house, the heat of the day radiating from the ground beneath his boots. There was a dryness in the air like a caught breath waiting to fan the flames of a single spark. He hated that sense of waiting for the worst, but it was inescapable at this time of year. He hated waiting, period, but for the first time in his life he didn’t have a plan to get out.

He wanted Phoebe here and she needed to be in England to fulfill her dreams. He paused to look back over the sprawling ranch. It wasn’t his land, yet it felt like the first home he’d ever had. But he knew how quickly things could change, how whole villages ended up in flames, families shattered, lives upended. Could he give it up? And even if he was willing, would Phoebe still want him?

* * *

Phoebe’s phone lit up with a text and she turned over and grabbed her cell from the nightstand.

It was from Jen.

Ask your brother what he did to make sure you came back to England with him.

Phoebe frowned as she typed. What??

Noah and Max had a chat and I guess a lot of what we thought was wrong.

Phoebe struggled to sit up. She’d forgotten to shut the curtains and a full moon was shining through the wavy, old glass window.

Max and Noah chat now?

I think Noah pushed a few of Max’s buttons to get some real answers. I decided not to ask for details.

Okay, I’ll talk to George. He’s due to come over tomorrow to review my progress as I’m still connected to his estate.

I’ll be interested to hear what he says. X

Jen signed off and Phoebe remembered to plug the charger into her phone before she put it away. She lay back against her mountain of pillows and contemplated the dark outline of the oak tree outside her bedroom window. There was very little breeze, and the humidity was high, making her hair curl, which meant she’d looked like a mess in the morning. She’d left the room just as her Great-aunt Margaret had decorated it and felt like the heroine of a Gothic novel in her four-poster bed and three randomly ticking clocks.

What could George have possibly done to make Max want to get rid of her?

A thousand and one scenarios immediately filled her head. Phoebe sighed and got out of bed. She’d make herself some hot chocolate and write a list. It was the only way she’d ever get back to sleep again.

* * *

Max finished his dinner and looked up. “Will you all stop staring at me? It’s like being in a horror movie.”

“We’re just concerned for your welfare, Max,” Sally said.

“Then assuming Noah’s blabbed everything, what do you think I should do?”

Luke looked around the table. “Did you all hear that? It sounded like Max was asking for our help.”

“I think that’s a good thing.” Jen smiled warmly at him. She’d just returned from putting Sky to bed in his old room. “I’m proud of you.”

“The problem as I see it,” Luke said, “is that you think Phoebe won’t move over here because she’s finally gotten what she wanted over there.”

“Correct.” Max nodded. “And I helped her get that.”

“Which was very romantic of you, Max,” Jen said.

“I just wanted her to have what was hers and not fall out with her family over it.” Max shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

Everyone looked at him. “What?”

“It is a big deal,” Sally said. “But I think we all understand why you made the choices you did now.”

Max snorted. “Noah thought I’d taken a bribe.”

“I didn’t bro. I just wanted you to get mad enough to tell me the truth.” Noah smirked. “It’s called the Max attack.”

“You’ve got a valid passport?” Luke asked.

“Yeah, I checked when I thought I was going to England for the wedding.” Max hesitated. “I keep thinking I should just get on a plane and go talk to her—lay it all out there and give her the choice—but that’s stupid, right?”

“Not necessarily,” Luke said slowly. “I guess she might appreciate you chasing her down for a change.”

Max sat back. “I thought you’d all tell me I was crazy to even think about it.”

Sally smiled at him. “I think you need to decide what’s important to you, Max. Where you live doesn’t matter if you’re with someone you love.”

It was on the tip of Max’s tongue to ask how anyone knew he loved Phoebe, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to try that when they’d had to live with his miserable face for months.

“This ranch will always be your home,” Sally continued. “You’ll have a place in our hearts and in our houses.”

Luke and Noah nodded. For a horrible second, Max seriously wondered if he was about to cry like a baby.

“Hey, she might come back with me—although, she’d have to put up with Noah as a next-door neighbor.”

“And me,” Jen piped up.

“She’d like that part,” Max agreed. He rose to his feet. “I guess I’ll go pack. Do you think I should let her know I’m coming or keep it a surprise?”

“Why don’t you let me deal with that?” Jen offered. “I’ll give her a heads-up when you’re getting close.”

Max was halfway through the door when he stopped and turned around.

“Shit. I don’t know where she lives.”

Jen was the first to start laughing and everyone joined in—including Sky from the bedroom.

“I’ve already sent you a text with all those details.”

Noah looked up from his phone. “And I’ve booked you on a flight leaving tonight. So, get going.”

Max paused. “Thank you, guys. I really mean it.”

Luke waved him off. “Just be happy, Max. That’s all we want for you.”

“I’ll do my best,” Max promised. “So, expect me back in three days.”

He rushed into his bedroom, packed his old military backpack, made sure he had his passport, and ID, and went back into the kitchen. Noah was waiting for him, keys in hand.

“I’ll drop you at the airport.”

“You sure?”

Noah smiled. “I need to make certain you’ve really gone. Luke and I have a bet.”