Dare to Love (Maxwell #3)

A high-pitched whimper escaped her. “Do you think I’ll ever get my money back?”


I combed my hands through my hair, my heart breaking at the sound of defeat in her voice. I had a clawing urge to find Terrance, tie him up, and beat the shit out of him. I just might do that if Zach didn’t cooperate. He was our best shot to find Terrance quickly. “One way or another we’ll get to the bottom of all this.” My gut told me Terrance had probably gambled away all of her money. Unless her dad had a separate trust set up for the 401Ks. Even so, I wasn’t certain Terrance hadn’t discovered a way to steal that money, too. I scoured the shelves for anything related to estate law. As I did, I asked, “Are you doing anything on Sunday?” Hopefully taking her mind off the problem even for a minute would help reduce her stress level. “I’d like to invite you to Sunday dinner with my family.” I’d explained Lizzie’s predicament to my old man, including the passing of her family.

He’d taken the news like I had, swearing, pacing, and looking in shock for several minutes before he’d settled down. Then the psychiatrist in him had emerged. “I’ll need to speak to your mother’s doctor. We’ll decide the best route to take regarding how we break the news to her.”

I’d wondered why we should break the news at all. We were a family again. Our mom was home. She still had moments of depression, but they weren’t severe like they had been, or bad enough for her to return to a mental health facility.

But my father had said, “Since your mom heard Lizzie’s name, she continually asks when the Reardons will be here. I believe her wanting to see the Reardons is another step in the healing process. Although, as her husband, I’m just as afraid as you boys are of how she’ll react to the Reardons’ deaths.”

Death—that word again. I’d lived with it for so long—Karen and then Kody’s girlfriend. And in a way, Mom living in a mental health facility had felt like she’d died. In a way, she had. We lost her for years, and it was devastating and terrifying. All those emotions were heightened once again. The living, breathing, sexy woman so close to me, yet so freaking far, frightened the fuck out of me. I’d planned to walk away from Lizzie after I’d spoken to her on Dillon’s porch. I’d had no plans to build a relationship with her. But for fuck’s sake, every moment I spent with her was another moment I wanted to wrap my arms around her and kiss her until we died from lack of oxygen, got drunk off each other’s touches, got dizzy off each other’s scent. Was another moment I wanted to get so deep inside her I wouldn’t want her to leave me for a moment.

I snapped back to the present when Lizzie came up to me.

“You want me to have dinner with your family?” She scratched her head, scrunching up her face.

I couldn’t tell if her twisted expression was from my invitation or because her wig was bothering her. Either way, I wanted to burn that wig.

“You sound shocked.” I spotted two shelves on estate law and scanned the books, removing one titled The Florida Probate Guide.

“I’m sorry, I can’t accept the invitation.” Her words were clipped.

“Why? It’s just dinner. It’s not like you’ve never met my family, and you’ve already broken the ice with Kade.” I’d gotten a text just before art class from Kade filling me in on Lizzie’s visit. It fried my ass that she hadn’t told me.

She pinned me with a glare. “Are you forgetting the past?”

“My mom wants to see you.”

She stuck her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest. “Why? So we can talk about how my sister shot Karen? Sorry, but I’m not up for that. I’ve been through more bad shit than I care to talk about. And I don’t want anyone to take pity on me, especially your family. I saw the look in Kade’s eyes.”

I dumped the book on the table, the sound exploding around the room. “I get it, okay? I understand the pain of death. My mom may not have died that day, but she did try to end her life and as a result ended up living in a mental health facility for years. Which hasn’t been a walk in the park. I also get you don’t want pity. And if you haven’t noticed, I haven’t given you any.” I clenched my teeth, itching like a fucker to either kiss her or spank her.

“You mean that kiss the other day wasn’t out of pity?” The woman had the nerve to flaunt a smile.

Easy, dude. You’re in a law office. One that you might be working at soon. Don’t ruin your chances. I quickly checked the exit. Two windows framed the door, but no sign of anyone watching or passing by. “You think that kiss was because I felt sorry for you? Is that what you felt?” I kept my voice low.

She played with her earring.

“Nervous?” I couldn’t help but taunt.

She began to walk away. “I need to use the ladies’ room and speak to Bonnie.”

“Are you running? Is that your MO these days?” I tucked my hands in my pockets when all I wanted to do was rip off that ugly wig and feel the silk strands of her long, dark hair.

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