Max Stinton is a heartthrob in a suit. There I’ve said it.
We’re at Sunny’s wedding. And yeah, everyone’s eyes might be on the absolutely, mind-blowingly beautiful bride that’s currently sniveling through her vows and ruining her makeup. But I mean, if anyone’s going to look dashing with mascara running down her face, it’ll be Sunny Quetzal.
And sure, Darrel Hastings doesn’t look half bad in a suit.
Okay, he looks great with those broad shoulders and green eyes that turn into flickering infernos when he looks at Sunny.
Their romance started in high school, at least on his side. And it’s stunningly clear that this day is all of High School Darrel and Adult Darrel’s dreams come true.
I’m happy for them.
Really.
And if I didn’t have a broad-shouldered, blue-eyed hunk flirting with me from the front row, I’d probably be more focused on my bridesmaid duties.
As it stands, Max Stinton is sitting next to my little girl, stealing all my attention and making it pretty darn hard to remember I should be listening to Sunny and Darrel’s achingly romantic vows.
Max tilts his head to the side, capturing my attention again as he mouths, “I love you” and—oh well—I’m sure I can observe the details of the wedding from pictures. This is a high-society event. It’ll be plastered all over the internet by morning anyway.
My eyes completely focus on my fiancé as he smirks at me. Even though he looks like the same cutthroat billionaire, a lot’s changed behind the scenes—most notably, Stinton Group has become the poster boy for charitable acts.
Max and Hills just opened Stinton Foundation—an organization that helps single mothers from low-income neighborhoods take care of their kids, find employment, and get whatever help they need.
I’d call that absolute irony.
Max calls it reparations.
I don’t think he’s trying to make up for what he’s done in the past as much as he is trying to build a new legacy for Stinton Group to leave behind.
And I, for one, am absolutely proud of him.
“Sexy,” he mouths again, winking at me.
Heat brands my face as I imagine my fiancé sweeping me into a dark corner sometime tonight.
I stick out my tongue.
He winks as if he knows he has me flustered.
And I start sweating because he’s good for the threat.
As much as I like to argue with him, I’m in love with Max’s giant… ahem… ego. That cockiness of his hasn’t faded. It’s just pointed in other directions—like the pride he takes in making breakfast every morning because Beth prefers his cooking over mine. Or the fact that he’ll pick her up from school in Red Beauty just because she asked.
When Max Stinton said he loved me more than Stinton Group, I thought those were just words. Romance can make a man’s speech as flowery as a poetry book. I figured, like bubbles, we’d settle into a normal pattern of give and take the way most relationships do.
Boy, was I wrong.
Every day with Max has proven that he doesn’t do anything halfway. When he said his love for Stinton Group was nothing compared to his love for me, it was a measurable vow and a real-life reflection of his feelings.
The same way he chased that company, woke up every morning thinking of that company and did everything in his power to see it thrive—yeah… we get that treatment now.
To say he’s intense would be an understatement.
But I absolutely love that obnoxious rake and all the ways he barrels into my life to try and make it better.
Even if we butt heads along the way.
“Do you, Sunny Quetzal, take Darrel Hastings to be your lawfully wedded husband?” The officiant drawls.
I glance at Max again and find him looking at me. His handsome face is softening into a smile that says ‘we’re next’.
And I can’t help the way my knees go weak.
Oh yeah.
Max Stinton has my heart so tangled up that I’ll probably never find a way to separate myself from him.
After he proposed at the racetrack and got Beth’s approval, he took us ring shopping and proposed again, at the farmhouse. In front of all our friends.
It was absolutely perfect.
And so him.
Only Max Stinton would go overboard and propose to me twice.
As if he needs that confirmation that I really meant it the first time.
Of course I want to marry this man.
No one else has ever made me feel so safe, so feminine. So loved. I haven’t had to change a thing about myself and there’s such freedom in that. In being able to share the parts of you that you don’t share with anyone else.
This man, with his dark hair and icy-blue eyes and intimidating jawline is all mine. Only I get to see the way he dotes on my daughter. Only I get to see him unravel when Stinton Group hits a rough patch or when his brother gets himself plastered all over the news for crashing a car under the influence. Only I get to hold Max Stinton’s heart.
Later, I get to hold a whole lot more of him as Max delivers on his promise to sneak me away from the wedding.
The stars giggle and blush as we fumble with our clothes. The metallic clank of a zipper dripping down chases away the songs of toads and cicadas.
I can’t breathe.
Not when Max is doing everything possible to steal my oxygen and claim it as his.
Our fingers reach for each other in a desperate clash. The tree shakes with every bump of our bodies, raining leaves and flowers over our heads as if we’re in an alternate universe. A fairytale world where we can reach out and touch the stars.
And I see a ton of them when Max growls an order into my ear and my body explodes.
Everything goes white and I rake my nails against his back to keep myself tethered to my body. I gasp out. And then I breathe in sharply. Smell gardenias and freshly cut lawn and Max’s intoxicating cologne. Smell the scent of us and the bitter tang of sweat.
And it’s perfect.
Max kisses me solidly, smothering the sounds of my moans. My name falls off his lips and I quiet that in my own way, watching his face shift into an expression reserved for me.
We hold on tight to each other.
It takes a long second for the world to right itself.
The moment it does, he taps my leg. I unwind my heels from his waist and he sets me back daintily on the ground like I’m a princess in the olden days.
That’s another thing about Max.
It doesn’t matter to him that I know more about cars than he could ever hope to. It doesn’t matter that I routinely watch videos of other mechanics fixing cars before I go to bed at night. Doesn’t even matter that I smell like engine oil most of the time.
He always, always treats me like a beautiful, fragile woman.
And I don’t think I’d appreciate anyone else doing that.
It’s only because it’s Max.
It’s only because I trust him.
The back of my dress is dirty from where I’d been pinned to the tree. Max brushes me off after he puts his clothes back in order.
My heart slams against my chest, and I can’t stand straight even as I push my dress back over my legs.
He looks at me and smiles. “I love you.”
“I love you.” I reach out to fix his collar. There’s a lipstick stain on the edge of the crisp white cloth. “I’ve been thinking about what you said about taking over Stinton Auto.”
“You want to discuss this now?” He glances out at the wedding reception. We’re far enough away that all we can see is the light from the canopy tent over the tree line.
The faint music barely carries on the wind. Beth is somewhere in the wedding crowd, getting into mischief with Micheal and Bailey.
My mouth presses together. “I still think I’m not cut out to lead the franchise—”
“And I disagree. I think you’re perfect for it.”
“Or maybe you want to keep me away from fixing cars,” I tease.
“I want to keep you from getting hurt.” He steps toward me. “But I love when you repair cars. You’re in your element and it’s hot.”
My shoulders slump. “But do you really think I can do it?”
He reaches out, wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. “If I really thought that you couldn’t handle it, I wouldn’t be so confident. If you had any objection other than feeling inadequate, I would choose someone else immediately. But you’re the best mechanic I know and I would love to see technicians of your caliber in all the shops. You shouldn’t be ashamed of what you can do and you shouldn’t second-guess yourself either. You’re capable and talented. You have something to offer this industry and I want to pave the way for you to do it.”
I rest my head against his chest. “I’ll consider doing a test run. One franchise. But only on a freelance basis and I’m going to charge you a steep contract fee—”
He kisses me roughly. “Baby, do not talk business right now or I’ll fling you against that tree again.”
I shake my head. “I’m serious, Stinton.”
“So am I.” He winks and then he leans his forehead against mine. “Thank you for doing business with me again. I know that you’re trusting me, and I’ll make sure I don’t ever lose that trust again.” He touches my face reverently. “You are the light of my world, Dawn Banner. I will do everything in my power to make sure you shine for the rest of your life.”
I sigh. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“I’m the one who should be asking that question,” he growls. “I’d like to know how I got so lucky? And I’m not just talking about what we did against that poor tree.”
I snort out a laugh.
Max looks down at me and smiles.
This man—this gruff, pigheaded, absolute fiend of a boss who once had a heart made of ice has somehow transformed into the man who values me with his entire life.
In his arms, I’m at peace.
I’m accepted.
I’m allowed to be weak and strong and vulnerable and firm.
I’ll be forever grateful that I fell in love with the overbearing workaholic and the secret softie that is Max Stinton.
“Will you have a big wedding?” Mama Moira asks over the cheers of the kids who are seated on the floor of the farmhouse.
“I don’t think so.” I link my fingers with Max’s. Although Trevor hasn’t shown his face in front of me, the fact is that his name is still linked with mine online.
If we have a big hoopla wedding with tons of guests, the media will converge like a pack of vultures. And then Beth will be thrust into the spotlight as the tabloids, once again, try to turn this ‘love triangle’ into tomorrow’s headline.
“I’m thinking of something quiet and intimate,” I add.
Mama Moira claps with glee. “Yes, I get to plan another wedding.” Then she hesitates. “I mean, if you’d like, Dawn baby.”
“I would love that.” I squeeze the older woman’s dark hand. It’s soft and warm.
Kenya, who’s snuggled in Alistair’s side, suddenly sits up straight, her eyes pointed on her daughter Belle. “What is this I see? Did someone just beat my kid in UNO?”
“What can I say?” Elizabeth lifts her shoulder. “I’m that good.”
Belle frowns. “Next game. Monopoly.”
“No, no Monopoly.” Alistair’s voice is firm. “Families have broken up because of that game. And you kids are already too competitive.”
“We can handle it,” Bailey says, lifting his chin. His glasses slide down his nose and he shoves it back up with his pointer finger.
Ms. Hansley, Bailey and Micheal’s live-in nanny, waddles into the room carrying a tray of powder buns. “Snacks anyone?”
“These are delightful.” Mama Moira bites into one and moans. “I can’t share any more Belizean recipes with you. Your food is tasting better than mine.”
“Never.” Ms. Hansley laughs.
I feel eyes on me and glance over to find Max staring again. I’ve gotten used to it and just smile in return. “What?”
“I love you.”
“Okay.” I snort. “Now is the best time to mention that?”
“I never knew what family was before I met you.” His eyes trail through the room and land on everyone here. Even though Sunny and Darrel are away on their exotic honeymoon trip, it almost feels like they’re here too. Max glances down, the cold mask dropping to reveal the bleeding heart underneath. “I wouldn’t have been able to see it or appreciate it if it wasn’t for you.” His fingers curl over my hips. “Thank you.”
I kiss him.
Mama Moira clears her throat. “Save some room for the Lord.”
I laugh into Max’s mouth and back away from him, respecting Mama Moira’s farmhouse rules.
Although I do wonder how she’s going to handle Darrel and Sunny when they come back from their honeymoon. Those two are all over each other.
Max’s phone rings at that moment.
He glances down and then gives me an affectionate look. “It’s Hadyn.”
I wave him away.
He slips into the kitchen and I turn my attention on Bailey and Micheal who are each trying to convince Beth to exchange her car piece and offer it to them.
“I’m the car.” Beth folds her arms over her chest. “I’ll always be the car. You choose something else.”
“What?” Max’s voice hisses from the kitchen.
It’s not loud, but it’s severe enough that we all take notice.
Clamoring to my feet, I launch myself into the kitchen. My heart is in my throat and all the worse-case scenarios breeze through my mind.
Is it Trevor Stinton finally getting himself into the kind of trouble that’ll lock him away for life?
Is it George Stinton, crawling from the ruins to try to wreak havoc again?
Is something wrong with Stinton Group?
Max spins to face me, his blue eyes wide and his lips tense.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper, stepping into him and placing a hand on his back.
“That was Hadyn.” His voice is a gruff tone.
I blink rapidly. “What happened?”
“He and Vanya just got married.”
