Page 60 of That Conflicted Feeling

“Ithink this stuff stripped off half my tastebuds,”Maxwhispers asGeraldstarts plying the next customers with samples.

Ican’t suppress the laughter any longer.

Therecollection of his screwed-up face makes me laugh so hardIbend over and bash my knee on one of the pokey vines sticking out of the wreath. “Ow!”

Theridiculousness of the whole wreath episode suddenly hits me like a slap in the face from a fertility goddess and cracks me up even more.

“Areyou okay?”Maxbends down to look at my knee. “Youmight have drawn blood.”

Iflap my free hand at him, unable to talk, tears about to spill out.Herubs my back to help me catch my breath.

“Doyou always laugh like this?Oris it reserved for me covered in mud?Orme unwittingly making a fertility wreath?Or, you know, just me in general?”

“Oh,Lord.”Iput my hand on my chest asIfinally manage to fill more than five percent of my lungs with air.

“You’requite the giggler, huh?”

HowfunnyMaxshould use that exact phrase.

“Mydad called meTheGiggler.”Iget my breath back asIwipe away the tears. “ButI’velaughed at you more in the last couple of days thanI’velaughed at anything for, well, actually,Ican’t remember how long.”

Hestops rubbing my back and his hand comes to rest at the very base of my spine, right above my butt.

Iraise my eyebrows and look at him out of the corner of my eye. “Careful.”

Hepulls his hand away.Slowly. “Sorry.Itfelt good there.”

Yes, it felt good there.Betterthan good.Betterthan any hand in the small of any back should feel.Definitelybetter than the hand of a corporate giant that crushes everything it touches should feel.

Ituck the offending bit of vine back into the wreath.

“Seriously, though.”Hepoints at my knee. “Youare bleeding a bit.Let’ssit down and take a look at it.”

Ilook around. “Thereare no benches or anything.”

“Howabout behind there?”Hepoints toward the shed attached to the empty enclosure.

18

MAX

“Thisis a nice sunny, sheltered spot,” saysPollyas she drops onto the grass and leans back against the shed.Shesets the goddamn wreath down next to her and stretches those sexy legs straight out in front.

Acheer erupts from somewhere behind us.

“Someonemust have finally won the tortoise derby,”Isay and sit down next to her.

“Waittill the snail race starts.That’swhen things get really wild.”Shepulls her knees up to her chest and examines the damage caused by the wreath. “It’snot bad at all.It’sonly a bit of a scratch.It’sstopped bleeding already.”

It’sa knee.Justa knee.Justa knee with a graze on it.Kneesare not hot.Kneesare not body parts to lust over.Sowhy amIhaving to grip the wine bottle to stop myself from stroking this particular one?

Inan effort to distract my hands further,Iunscrew the cap off the wine. “Ican disinfect it with some of this if you like.”

Sheflinches and covers the wound with her hand to protect it. “Hell, no.”

Ilook at the bottle and shrug.“Well, it’s open now.”

“Oh, you’re not.”Pollyrecoils in horror.