Read Online Max (A Carter Brother series Book 4) by Lisa Helen Gray - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lisa Helen Gray
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wanted you to go? Fuck me,’’ Max says, walking in from behind me and making me jump. I turn around, my hand over my heart, and give him a glare.
“You scared me half to death. And what are you looking at?’’ I ask, taken aback by the intensity of his stare.
“Fuck me,’’ he breathes again, and I notice his eyes on my hair, following it all the way down to my ass where his eyes stayed glued.
“Max, pick your jaw up and wipe that mouth,’’ Joan teases and I snap my head back around to hers.
“Um, yeah, what were you saying?’’ he asks, but his attention is still on my hair by my ass.
“Did you order the food with Mark or not?’’ Joan asks and Max snaps out of whatever he’s in when she mentions food, his eyes lighting up.
“Yeah,’’ he grins then sits down at the other end of the sofa. “You gonna stand there all day?’’ he asks, looking at me, his eyes raking up and down my body.
“Sit here, let me put your hair in a French braid before you catch pneumonia,’’ Joan says and my heart rate picks up. My mom used to love playing with my hair. It wasn’t as long as it is now but it was still long enough for anyone who would see it to comment on it. I get it a lot. People wishing they had my hair or asking if it’s my real hair.
Not trusting my voice, I sit on the floor in front of Joan with my back to her. I hear her rummage through the bags next to me and hear her triumphant ‘whoop’ when she finds what she’s looking for. Then I feel the brush running through my hair.
It’s not long after she gets all the knots out that the motion of the brush running through my hair brings tears to my eyes. I loved it when my mom would sit and brush it for no reason other than to brush it. It would send me to sleep, relax me after I had a bad day. Having Joan doing the exact same thing forms a lump in my throat and tears threaten to spill over my cheeks.
“I spoke with everyone at the food bank,’’ Joan starts. Max grunts, causing a small smile to twitch at my lips.
“Who said I did it?’’ I ask quietly, knowing full well one of them blamed me, if not all of them. It had been their intentions all along.
“Liv and Jessica. Sarah didn’t say much but then I don’t think they got her involved. Put a little pressure on that girl and her mouth has verbal diarrhoea,’’ Joan tells us, making me choke back a laugh. Oh Lord, this woman really has no filter. Max laughs out right, agreeing with her. It turns out the two went to school together or something.
“What did Miss Robins say?’’ I ask, hoping she didn’t blame me. She’s a lot like Joan: fun, easy going, but if you get on the wrong side of her you’d better watch out.
“Honestly, I never gave anyone a chance to say anything, but Miss Robins and Mr Dickens spoke up before I could say anything. They both disagreed and were outraged that the girls could accuse such an innocent girl,’’ she tells me and I hear the smile in her voice.
If only she knew I wasn’t an innocent girl. What I am is far from innocent.
“So what’s happened?’’
“Well, I’ve told them they can’t volunteer anymore and that the church won’t condone a hostile environment, but Jessica seems to think her father won’t allow it. He’s one of the big donors for the church. We will just have to see what happens, although, if I know her father, he won’t tolerate her behaviour either.’’
At least she’s honest. Most people would avoid telling you the truth just so they didn’t have to deal with the aftermath.
“That’s good,’’ I smile, leaning forward as she finishes the French braid.
The doorbell rings and I look up, shocked. Who the hell would be out in this storm? They’re crazy. Joan was crazy for going shopping, so whoever this is must be an adrenaline junkie like her.
Max gets up the same time as Joan and I do. When Mark walks in carrying two bags of takeout food, my belly rumbles. I should have guessed it was
“You scared me half to death. And what are you looking at?’’ I ask, taken aback by the intensity of his stare.
“Fuck me,’’ he breathes again, and I notice his eyes on my hair, following it all the way down to my ass where his eyes stayed glued.
“Max, pick your jaw up and wipe that mouth,’’ Joan teases and I snap my head back around to hers.
“Um, yeah, what were you saying?’’ he asks, but his attention is still on my hair by my ass.
“Did you order the food with Mark or not?’’ Joan asks and Max snaps out of whatever he’s in when she mentions food, his eyes lighting up.
“Yeah,’’ he grins then sits down at the other end of the sofa. “You gonna stand there all day?’’ he asks, looking at me, his eyes raking up and down my body.
“Sit here, let me put your hair in a French braid before you catch pneumonia,’’ Joan says and my heart rate picks up. My mom used to love playing with my hair. It wasn’t as long as it is now but it was still long enough for anyone who would see it to comment on it. I get it a lot. People wishing they had my hair or asking if it’s my real hair.
Not trusting my voice, I sit on the floor in front of Joan with my back to her. I hear her rummage through the bags next to me and hear her triumphant ‘whoop’ when she finds what she’s looking for. Then I feel the brush running through my hair.
It’s not long after she gets all the knots out that the motion of the brush running through my hair brings tears to my eyes. I loved it when my mom would sit and brush it for no reason other than to brush it. It would send me to sleep, relax me after I had a bad day. Having Joan doing the exact same thing forms a lump in my throat and tears threaten to spill over my cheeks.
“I spoke with everyone at the food bank,’’ Joan starts. Max grunts, causing a small smile to twitch at my lips.
“Who said I did it?’’ I ask quietly, knowing full well one of them blamed me, if not all of them. It had been their intentions all along.
“Liv and Jessica. Sarah didn’t say much but then I don’t think they got her involved. Put a little pressure on that girl and her mouth has verbal diarrhoea,’’ Joan tells us, making me choke back a laugh. Oh Lord, this woman really has no filter. Max laughs out right, agreeing with her. It turns out the two went to school together or something.
“What did Miss Robins say?’’ I ask, hoping she didn’t blame me. She’s a lot like Joan: fun, easy going, but if you get on the wrong side of her you’d better watch out.
“Honestly, I never gave anyone a chance to say anything, but Miss Robins and Mr Dickens spoke up before I could say anything. They both disagreed and were outraged that the girls could accuse such an innocent girl,’’ she tells me and I hear the smile in her voice.
If only she knew I wasn’t an innocent girl. What I am is far from innocent.
“So what’s happened?’’
“Well, I’ve told them they can’t volunteer anymore and that the church won’t condone a hostile environment, but Jessica seems to think her father won’t allow it. He’s one of the big donors for the church. We will just have to see what happens, although, if I know her father, he won’t tolerate her behaviour either.’’
At least she’s honest. Most people would avoid telling you the truth just so they didn’t have to deal with the aftermath.
“That’s good,’’ I smile, leaning forward as she finishes the French braid.
The doorbell rings and I look up, shocked. Who the hell would be out in this storm? They’re crazy. Joan was crazy for going shopping, so whoever this is must be an adrenaline junkie like her.
Max gets up the same time as Joan and I do. When Mark walks in carrying two bags of takeout food, my belly rumbles. I should have guessed it was
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