I could. I should pour a healthy amount into the foaming bathwater, but something tells me to leave it alone.
To enjoy it on the man himself.
With the water just right and the huge antique style claw-footed tub looking like a giant ice cream soda, I let myself sink into another round of absolute bliss as I dissolve into the most perfect bath in the most perfect house.
Before long I’m dozing myself until the familiar clip of tiny dog feet on the tiles makes me open my drooping lids.
They widen in an instant when I see a very naked and very handsome Max in the doorway, Trixie circling at his feet and looking up at him adoringly.
“I ran a bath,” I hear myself squeak, suddenly feeling guilty but only making him chuckle to himself.
“You beat me to it,” he confesses. “Room for one more?” he asks and I sit up, not wanting to miss a second as I watch him getting into the huge tub with me.
Peeping over the side of the tub I can see Trixie curled up on the long, shaggy mat. Content to be close enough to her mom without getting wet.
Chapter Sixteen
Maxwell
Our first real night together starts in the bath and finishes in the hot tub, after I order us all in some dinner.
Steaks all ‘round, with a special order for Trixie again who doesn’t quite believe her luck either today.
“I can’t believe you’ve never been in a hot tub,” is what started it all. Even though they say not to go in the water after eating, I’ve never had a problem, and both Phoebe and I seem to survive while we both digest our food.
Once I find out that not only does Phoebe love a proper bath, but she’s never been in a hot tub, I have to risk both of us being wrinkled beyond our years as we both soak for a second time in one day.
“Never done a lot of things,” she tells me absently, her eyes half-closed as she lets her head tilt back against my chest. Her hair spreading out under the water and dancing across my torso.
I smile at the thought, remembering tonight’s the first of many and what we’ve shared so far is the most perfect end to the most perfect day of my life.
“What is it you actually do again?” she asks me once I start to probe her more about what she has and hasn’t done. That mention of anything from her past making her tense up ever so slightly.
“Well,” I start to say, almost having to think out loud. “Not a lot. I was a locksmith, many moons ago, helping run the business along with my dad and older brother,” I tell her, finding myself stopping short as my own past threatens to haunt me.
“Three Bears,” she says sleepily to herself.
“But nowadays its mainly investments. Property, a little consulting. I put deals together for first timers and if I don’t charge a commission I make sure I get in on the act, making something for my troubles that way,” I finally manage to tell her.
I wonder just how long the past haunts us until we can make a fresh start on our own. A real fresh start.
“And you?” I ask her, turning the tables a little again. “You haven’t always lived downtown, working in a box factory,” I observe.
Not meaning to or wanting to dredge up anything unpleasant for her, but noticing how distant Phoebe gets when I do.
“What did you study in college?” I ask instead, steering things away from stalkers and anything else she doesn’t want to talk about.
But I feel her tensing up anyway.
“It was actually community college,” she confesses with a sigh. “The only kind I could afford. Hairdressing, if you have to know,” she says with a little bit of sting before turning her head a little to apologize.
“Sorry, Max. I just feel like such an underachiever being around you. Look at all you’ve got. All the exciting things you’ve probably done. What have I got to show for my troubles?” she asks, not really expecting an answer from me.
If she’s trying to put herself down and make me feel better it’s not working.
I feel suddenly old in her company like I’ve spent most of my life chasing a dream that doesn’t exist. Having money and so-called security doesn’t mean much when the only person to enjoy it with is yourself.
“You’ve got your whole life ahead of you yet, Phoebe,” I remind her. “And I do too, but I spent a long time thinking I should go it alone and work hard instead of taking time to find out what really matters,” I remind myself.
“And what does really matter?” she asks me, sounding frustrated.
“This,” I tell her, meaning it more than anything. I put my hand over her heart and lift hers out of the water and press it against mine.