Max

Placing his toolbox on the counter in the kitchen, Max walked over to the dishwasher, frowning when he saw no one had bothered turning it on. So, he took Patricia's container out and grabbed a sponge from the sink. Moe and Manny walked into the kitchen just as Max finished washing the container.

"I thought you said you were ready when I called?" Moe asked in the usual impatient tone he took with Manny. "You do this every time."

"I had to take a shit!" Manny retorted. "And you know I always have to change my underoos after." Manny turned to Max. "Where you going?"

"Patricia's."

"Again?"

Max motioned to the toolbox. "Her dryer needs fixing."

Moe smirked, taking in the toolbox. "Resorting to doing odd jobs now to get laid?"

Of course, that had Manny instantly chuckling. "Yeah, right. You'd need the jaws of life to pry that uptight bitch's legs open."

Shaking off what almost felt like irritation, Max turned to Manny. "Easy. Who said she's a bitch?"

"This one." Manny pointed at Moe with his thumb. "Many times. Tell 'em before he gets any crazy idears about your sister-in-law."

For a moment Moe looked confused; then his eyes went wide. "Patric—? You mean Pat? Izzy's sister Pat?"

"Yeah, so?" Max finished drying the container with a kitchen towel.

"You're going to her house?" Moe's eyes went even wider as he turned to Manny. "And this isn't the first time?"

"He was there all fucking day yesterday."

"Not all day." Max frowned. "Few hours."

"Please tell me you're not hitting that shit." Moe looked completely exasperated. "I'll never hear the end of it if you fuck with her and then—"

"I'm not hitting shit," Max said as that odd flustered sensation continued to overwhelm him.

"Well, there's a surprise." Manny laughed.

"She was showing me how to make tamales."

"Yeah." Manny started up with the wheezing laugh. "After he tricked her and then invited himself over."

"How'd you trick her?" Moe looked ready to spit. "I may not be crazy about the bitch, but I gotta deal with—"

"Can you both stop calling her a bitch," Max raised his voice, and there was no question about it now—this did piss him off. "She's not as bad as everyone says, and by everyone, I mean you, Moe. Manny don't know shit about her."

Manny and Moe both stared at him, looking flabbergasted. "Max." Manny said, for once appearing speechless and said nothing more.

"You're into Pat?" Moe asked, looking . . . appalled?

"I'm just saying she's not so bad." Max shrugged, picking up his toolbox. "I spent a few hours with her yesterday, and sure, she can be a little . . . feisty, but rattling her cage and getting her all worked up is amusing as shit."

"How'd you trick her?" Moe demanded.

Max explained how he tried but totally fucked up her tamale recipe and how Manny's fat ass still ate one. "He nearly broke a tooth, biting into an olive pit I put in it. So, I told him to take off his veneers so I could take a picture of his chipped ass teeth and—"

"One chip, asshole."

Glad to see Moe easing up as the humor danced in his eyes, Max went on. "I sent it to her and told her that happened because of her tamale recipe."

"By the end of the conversation," Manny interjected as he always did, "he'd convinced her the least she could do was show him hands-on how to make them. I heard the whole thing. Oh, it was disgusting. You know what this guy was really trying to get his hands on, right?" The wheezing laughter started up again. "His rejected ass was home before five yesterday."

"Not rejected, you ass." Max started to the door, done with this conversation. "I didn't go over there expecting anything. Only reason I went was to learn to make some tamales." He turned to Manny, who was still laughing at his own fucking joke. "Tamales this guy inhaled half of when I got home. But the timer on her dryer's broke, so I offered to fix it. Should be a quick fix." Moe was still peering at him with suspicion. "Kind of fucked up that she has a brother and two brothers-in-law who could be checking in on her and she has to deal with this kind of shit on her own. But you can thank me later." Walking backwards, he pushed through the screen door with his back, winking at his still-perturbed-looking nephew. "You're welcome."

Even as he walked down the steps of his house, Max braced himself to hear more shit from these two. Sure enough, he wasn't even all the way down when he heard the screen door behind him open.

"Max, I'm serious man," Moe said as Max continued to his car. "You're not getting any ideas about Pat." Max turned to look at Moe, who still appeared to be in complete disbelief about this. "Are you?"

"You know I'm not into relationships." Max opened his trunk.

"Yeah, exactly," Moe snapped back. "And she's totally not the kind of woman you usually gun after, and I don't just mean because she has a brain."

Manny laughed, putting his hand on Moe's shoulder. "Eh, let him be, Moe. What are you worried about? Like I said, he'll need the jaws of life with that one."

"Yeah?" Max asked, closing the trunk and feeling annoyed as fuck now. "What do you know about her, huh Manny? Just 'cause she's given this one some attitude. It was probably well deserved."

"I'm just saying." Moe started down the stairs as Max walked around to the driver side door of his car. "She's not one of your usual conquests, okay? She's been through a lot, and if it gets back to Izzy—"

"If what gets back to her?" Max asked over the roof of his car, his patience really beginning to thin. "That I fixed her dryer? She'll thank me. That's what should happen."

"But you're—"

"Look," Max said before Moe said another word. "You're right. She's not my type. I'm not her type. She probably thinks me too old and too crass for someone like her anyway." He shrugged. "I get it. So, stop worrying. I'm not stupid enough to start getting any ideas."

"You're not that much older than her!" Manny said, suddenly changing his tune. "That bitch would be lucky to have you."

"Will you stop calling her that?" Max said through his teeth but took a deep breath. "She's got some . . . spunk. I'll give you that. But she's not a bitch, okay?"

"Did she say those things to you?" Manny demanded, looking ready to spit, and Max had to laugh.

Dropping his shoulders in defeat, he shook his head. "No, she didn't."

Manny turned to Moe. "How old is she?"

"I don't know." Moe frowned as he turned to Manny. "But she's a lot older than Izzy."

Moe started toward the car because Max had already gotten in. He leaned into the passenger window, the annoyed expression replaced with a worried one now.

"Just promise me you won't fuck with her. And I mean that both literally and figuratively. Izzy worries she's still not over her ex, even after all these years so that makes her vulnerable. If by chance she has a temporary moment of insanity and actually gives into you—"

"Whatta you talking about moment of insanity?" Manny interjected again. "What makes that skank too good for him?"

"Swear to God, Manny, you keep calling her names—"

"Just don't," Moe said, interrupting Max's threat. Then Moe's expression morphed into a sweet one. "Please, Uncle Max?"

"Get out of here." Max laughed, putting the car in reverse. "That shit never worked on me."

"The hell it didn't." Moe laughed. "But seriously, man. Keep it in your pants. You don't want none of her drama anyway."

"I already told her that."

Moe's brows flew up. "You did?"

"Yep."

Eyeing him suspiciously, Moe was quiet for a moment. "Why? You two talking about that kind of shit already?"

"No." Max rolled his eyes. "She just asked why I never married. I told her I've never done the relationship drama bullshit. So, there. Problem solved. She knows I won't be suggesting or getting any ideas about a relationship with her. Back up now. I gotta go."

Both Moe and Manny backed away from his car as he reversed it out of the driveway. Moe was still staring at him even as he pulled out into the street. Until something seemed to come to him.

"Wait!" Max shook his head, chuckling as he started to drive. "That still doesn't mean you won't try to . . ."

Too far to hear the end of whatever Moe was saying, Max laughed and finished for him. "Take her up against her kitchen island? Bend her over and spread that perfect little ass of hers? Tease her merciless with my tongue until . . ."

Alright he had to stop before he'd be forced to drive around until his cock calmed down. So, after spending more time with her yesterday, he'd discovered he had a thing for feisty women. Big deal. Thing is they didn't get any feistier than Patricia, and like yesterday, she hadn't called to cancel today either.

Maybe she discovered older crass men did do it for her after all. Who knew? All he knew was he wasn't promising Moe shit.

~*~

Despite trying not to, Max's mind had wandered back onto all the things he'd do to Patricia if he ever got a chance. Which meant his dumb ass did end up having to drive around her block a few times before being able to pull into her driveway without the throbbing bulge in his pants. The only thing that got rid of it was remembering what Moe had said about Patricia still not being over her ex.

It confused Max. What he'd said about not doing the relationship drama bullshit still stood. One day of hanging out with her wasn't about to change that. And if she did by chance have that temporary moment of insanity, Max would be all for living out all those fantasies he'd begun to have. But that's all it would be. Whether she was over her ex or not shouldn't matter. Yet, the thought of it had killed his boner faster than a bucket of ice would've.

Shaking off those thoughts, he got out of the car and took the things out of his trunk. Once again, it took her a minute to open the door, and like yesterday, he'd begun to worry he'd been stood up. He was well aware she wasn't exactly rolling out the welcome wagon. But she could've easily called or sent a simple text cancelling his visits, and she hadn't either time. Could that be what caused the unfamiliar tightening in his belly. It had gotten worse as he'd waited for her to come to the door.

Thankfully, she was on the phone when she answered the door, so Max got a moment to compose himself, damn it. He motioned to her that he was putting the container in the kitchen and then heading into her garage.

"No, I really have given it some thought actually," she said to whomever she was talking to. "Because this isn't as easy for me as it is for you, Charles."

For a moment, Max was curious who Charles was. But then he reminded himself that she was an attorney. She likely spoke to clients or other attorneys all the time.

"Yes, well, there's a lot at stake for me here. You're lucky I've even agreed to consider this deal."

Max nodded, satisfied he'd guessed right. He put her container in the fridge and headed out to the garage. A few minutes later he was almost done fixing it when she walked out to the garage, holding the container. "You bought me chocolate-covered strawberries. Thanks." She bit into one just as he turned to look at her again.

Seeing her wrap her lips and suck the strawberry then close her eyes in pleasure had his crotch coming alive again. "Yeah, I . . . uh . . . I stopped at Vons on my way here."

He stared at her as she continued to lick her lips slowly, aware that this wasn't helping the rapid swell in his pants. But he didn't give a shit. Pat may be younger than him, but she was a grown ass woman. She had to know the one-piece short set she'd chosen to wear today might get him off. Couple that with her sucking away at that strawberry like she was getting ready to moan, no man could be held responsible for his reaction.

Disappointed when she was finally done making love to the piece of fruit, Max forced his eyes away. "I figured I took your last one, so I owed you." Turning the gage on the timer to almost off, he turned it on, waited a few seconds until it hit off and buzzed loudly, then stopped. "Done." He turned to her with a smile.

"Oh, wow. That fast?"

"I told you it was a simple fix." He closed his toolbox, feeling smug. "Just needed the right tools."

"Well, I guess I owe you now." She bit into another strawberry, sucking slowly—deeply until their eyes locked.

Was she doing this on purpose? Not that he was complaining. By no means would this be a first for him if that was the case. But this was Patricia. He didn't understand why, but for some reason, that made a world of difference. Aside from everything going on down below, he was also feeling something else he'd never felt in his life for any woman—awestruck. That is until her eyes traveled downward and her wide-eyed reaction to the unabashed tent in his pants snapped him right out of it. "What are you offering, Patricia?"