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Max wanted to marry Elana.
Two hours later, Max was still sitting there listening to them cross-examine her client as his mind still spun.
He wasn’t the marrying type! Getting married was something akin to getting a bad rash you couldn’t get rid of in an uncomfortable place you didn’t want to discuss with anyone but a specialist. No, he had always fooled around with girls in the past, had been exceedingly careful not to leave a trail of children behind him, and ran from relationships.
His parents' marriage had started with the self-destruction of another marriage – to Reese’s mother. It shocked him that he and Reese were as close as they were because of their past. Reese’s mom had fooled around with half the town, and they both knew it. His brother was forty-five and hadn’t married until he met Eileen.
His whole family was seriously messed up because of his father and his mother’s side, they didn’t communicate with hardly any of them. Heck, Maestro was a distant cousin, and he barely talked to him and he had been stationed with the man in Ghazni! If those two hadn’t been stuck out there together, he would have never reached out.
The word ‘Family’… meant Reese. His brother was everything to him and always had been, but now that included Eileen – and he wanted to add to that definition with Elana.
And she was never going to give him the time of day.
He could see it in her eyes when she looked at him, how she pulled back from him, and by what she said. She didn’t trust him and thought he was pulling some elaborate prank, and he didn’t blame her. He was a complete twerp back in high school, but then again, what kid wasn’t?
I mean, how did you get past your prior errors, the sins of your past, the failures of your parents, and pull yourself out of the muck when everything around you seemed to flaunt it in your face that you were doomed to fail?
There was nothing he was going to do that would ever be enough to get Elana to trust him, to reach for him, or to believe in him because he’d set the tone for their communication long ago. In fact, he reinforced it with his stunt at the grocery store and again in her bedroom.
To her, he was always going to be some horrible overgrown hormone-laced walking Neanderthal looking to ‘sow his seeds’ in the first ‘garden’ he could find… except this time, he was looking to settle down and own the land.
“GUILTY!”
Max jumped as the gavel slammed down, realizing he hadn’t been paying attention at all – and was exceedingly guilty of some weird and wild thoughts.
I need a distraction, he thought openly because this all sounded so crazy to him in his own mind – and he was distinctly afraid of rejection from Elana.
CHAPTER 8
ELANA
“I need ink therapy,” Max blurted out, causing Elana to do a double take in surprise. She was feeling upset and frustrated that her client had lost his case – and she had tried everything, pulling every string to get him off. Being sentenced to community service for ten months was about as light as he was going to get, but instead of being grateful he wasn’t going to jail...
No, he’d turned around and called her a filthy name.
Elana sighed.
That was fine that Max wanted some time alone because she wasn’t exactly in the best mood anyhow. She just wanted to go home, stuff herself on something fattening, and maybe soak in a bath with a book.
“Hello?” Max blurted out, looking at her. “Are you in or what?”
“In? … For what exactly?”
“I need a distraction and thought maybe you’d like to go celebrate with me.”
“Celebrate? What are you talking about? I lost my case.”
“Kitten, you were amazing,” he chuckled. “The guy was a creep, and he lost his own case – you got him off easy. I think the slimeball should have been someone’s butch girlfriend in prison, but hey – not my decision…”
Elana stared at him in shock, trying not to smile or laugh at his words, and slightly horrified at the implications he was making. Max was always saying outlandish things and this statement of his was no different.
“Besides, community service it’s kinda like a win-win. He’ll have to help the community and hopefully, he learns something. That’s worth celebrating in my book, plus I’m not really wanting to hang out by myself. Come with me,” he invited. “Let’s do something out of the norm…”
“Ink therapy?”
“Tattoos.”
“I kinda figured that was what you meant by ‘ink therapy,’ but I’m not getting a tattoo…”
