“Nina, that’s bullshit,” he clipped.

“It is?”

“We’re done talkin’ about this,” he declared.

“Oh, so now that I’m right and you’re wrong, we’re done talking about this?”

“Nina –”

I shook my head and lifted up my hand, still shouting, “No, no way. Proud and stubborn. That’s you. I come here, I slot into your life. We don’t build one together.”

He took a step toward me and I took two quick ones back as he clipped, “God dammit, Nina.”

“I’m glad I know this now, Max, this is good to know,” I snapped and then I heard a rap on the door and my head twisted in that direction. From my position in the loft I couldn’t see who it was but I suspected it was my mother or, if the turn of my morning luck held true, it was my father and Niles, so I instantly marched in the direction of the stairs announcing, “I’ll get it.”

“Leave it, Duchess,” Max growled, catching my wrist but I twisted it free, not looking at him.

“Go to hell, Max,” I bit off and marched to the stairs and down quickly, my mind in turmoil, my heart beating too fast, tears threatening, hope dying and that was the worst. It always was the worst when hope died.

I made it to the bottom of the stairs and I knew Max was close behind. I took two steps to the door, belatedly focused on it and stopped dead.

Standing outside the door, the sun blazing on a new blanket of white coating the front steps, were Kami, Shauna and an older woman who looked like Kami. Her hair was a beautiful, silvery white streaked with Max and Kami’s almost-black and pulled back in a ponytail. She, like Kami, held extra weight but not as much as Kami and, even at a glance, I could tell she wasn’t uncomfortable with it on her frame. She was attractive and wearing the mountain woman uniform of jeans, poofy vest, long-sleeved shirt and boots.

Max’s mother.

Wonderful.

I also took in the fact that both Kami and Shauna were smirking, though Max’s mother was studying me through the glass, her face unreadable.

They’d heard.

Double wonderful. Darn it all to hell.

Max stalked passed me straight to the door which he yanked open.

“Now is not a good time,” he announced on an angry snarl, barring entry with his big body.

“Yeah, we heard,” Kami told him gleefully.

Yes, gleefully. She was such a bitch.

Then she forced her way in, scooting in between Max and the doorframe. “It’s cold, Max, and we need coffee.”

With Kami already inside and with no other choice but to throw her out physically which, in my state of mind, was a viable option, Max stepped aside for his mother to enter and Shauna gave him a sweet, satisfied smile, swinging that same smile to me as she came in too.

Shauna. In Max’s house.

Seeing her smile pinned on me while she stood inside Max’s door, I felt the pressure build and I stayed utterly still so as not to let it explode.

“You’re Nina,” Max’s Mom said and I started then looked to her.

Then I forced myself to walk stiffly toward her (yes, meeting Max’s Mom wearing nothing but Max’s thermal and a pair of panties after just having been heard having a fight).

I also tried to force my voice to be kind but I only managed neutral. “Yes, and you’re Max’s Mom.”

“Linda,” she said on a nod and lifted her hand.

I took it. Unlike her daughter, her fingers curled around mine in a warm grip before she let go.

“Lovely to meet you,” I murmured.

She watched me and I saw something flash in her dark brown eyes, a twinkle, then she doused it so quickly I was uncertain it was ever there.

She looked at Max and suggested, “Why don’t you two get dressed? I’ll make coffee.”

“Like I said, Mom, this isn’t a good time,” Max told her.

“Dressed, Max,” Linda ordered and then she walked toward the kitchen.

Still smirking, Shauna and Kami followed.

I decided to take this opportunity to escape which I did without looking at Max. I ran up the stairs and I didn’t care what it looked like.

I was in the closet, my cords in my hands, my mind skittering from awful thought (meeting Max’s Mom during a fight) to terrible thought (Shauna and Kami being there) to horrendous thought (Max and me being over) when Max came in.

My intention was to ignore him, an impossible task when he grabbed my cords, tossed them on the floor and then his fingers curled into my hips.

I tilted my head back to look at him and tried to yank my hips from his hands but failed at this when his arms locked around me. One hand sifted up into my hair and cupped the back of my head.

“Take your hands off me, Max,” I hissed quietly.

“Shut it, Duchess,” Max whispered back and then his mouth was on mine.

The kiss was hard, long and closed-mouthed, communicating something I didn’t get. I pressed against his hold and his shoulders while he kissed me but didn’t succeed in getting away or yanking my mouth from his.

He lifted his head and I stopped struggling in order to glare at him. His eyes moved over my face. Then his arm at my waist drifted down to become a hand on my behind then it slid up, taking the thermal with it.

Before I could protest what his hand was doing, he whispered, “You were right, honey.”

With my history with men, most specifically Niles who never listened to me, I found I was unable to process his words.

“Sorry?”

His fingers slid out of my hair and his hand went down, also under the shirt, and both of his hands were now travelling soothingly along my back.

“You were right, I was wrong.”

My mouth dropped open.

Did he just say that? Did Macho Mountain Man Max straight out admit he was wrong?

I felt the anger flood out of me as the hope pushed back in and my body relaxed in his arms.

“Sorry?” I whispered.

He bent his head and his lips touched my forehead where he muttered, “We’ll talk about it later.”

He kissed me sweet then suddenly the thermal was pulled up, my arms going up with it and it was over my head.

I stood in nothing but my undies watching Max walk away pulling the thermal I just had on over his head. Then he disappeared. And I continued to stand there, staring at where I last saw him.

He’d just admitted he was wrong. He’d pulled me in his arms, gave me a hard kiss as his Max-style apology and admitted he was wrong. And he’d done it last night too, admitted he was wrong, told me straight out he’d “fucked up”.

I continued to stare at where I last saw him, letting this penetrate and thinking that the most macho mountain man thing he’d ever done was have the guts to look me in the eye and admit he was wrong.

That was when I stood there, staring at where I last saw him but I did it smiling.

Then the murmuring of voices invaded and my mind flew to the fact that Max’s Mom was downstairs having heard us fighting and so, for some insane reason, were the dreaded Kami and Shauna.

I snatched one of Max’s shirts off the hanger without even looking at it, shrugged it on and grabbed my cords. Then I flew into the bedroom, pulled underwear from the drawer and, seeing the checked flannel of Max’s that I was wearing (it was checked in gold, brown and navy, perfect to go with my cords) I grabbed a cream camisole and hit the bathroom.

After I’d done my routine, dressed (including Max’s flannel, which was huge but also warm, old and soft from a million washings) and pulled my hair up in a ponytail at the back of my crown. With no other choice but to go makeup free, I rushed out of the bathroom and across the loft.

I slowed my progress on the stairs, deep breathing to calm myself and repeating in my head, don’t have a go at either Kami or Shauna in front of Max’s Mom.

I was in possession of my faculties and hopefully in control of my mouth when I hit the bottom and turned toward the kitchen.

Linda was in it, bustling around in what appeared to be Mom Mode. Both Kami and Shauna were on stools. They all looked at me when I approached. I couldn’t see Max until I got closer for he was standing in the recess, hips against the sink.

“Coffee’s poured, Duchess,” Max told me when I hit the mouth of the U of kitchen and I saw his head dip to a mug that was steaming on the counter beside him.

“Thanks,” I muttered, walked to the coffee and picked it up, feeling all eyes on me and that feeling, needless to say, was uncomfortable.

“I remember that shirt,” Shauna announced and my eyes went to her over the rim of my mug then I nearly choked on my sip when she went on, “it was a favorite of mine too.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Linda’s head jerk and right in front of me I saw both Shauna and Kami smile delightedly.

“It’s good with your coloring,” I heard Linda say, luckily before I could utter a word or any of the twenty-five of them in my head and I looked at her.

“Sorry?” I asked, noting vaguely she had a bowl out and flour, milk, eggs, maple syrup and measuring cups.

“Your coloring. That shirt. Looks good on you,” she told me and my mind focused, moving from Shauna’s catty comment to the look on Linda’s face.

She was making a point, a quiet one, but it was a point nonetheless.

Moments before I had the irrational desire to shrug off Max’s shirt, take it outside and burn it. At the present moment I remembered it was Max’s, it was old, warm and soft and it was mine to claim when I wanted, not Shauna’s, never again Shauna’s.

And that was the point Linda was making, not only to me, but to Shauna.