But that hope was dashed the moment Alicyn spotted him, screamed,“Ton Max!”and pelted towards him. Willa brought up the rear, making no secret of how star-struck she still was over him.
Okay, kill me now,she thought.
As Max greeted the kids by name, Naisha gave her friend a questioning look, and Sienna was forced to murmur, “Max was the one who helped me with my flat.”And he was just leaving,she added silently.
“Oh,” Naisha said, smiling, and then, “Ohhhh…!” Her brown eyes returned to Max’s face and body; her assessment much more incisive than it had been the first time.
Then, gingerly, she got to her feet, cradling her baby girl, Nefertiti, against her bosom. “Whoo! Well, look at the time. Xander is due for a nap. Willa and I have a math equation to solve!”
Sienna was about to leap at the chance to skedaddle when Naisha added generously, “Oh, and don’t worry about Alicyn. She’ll be in very good hands. You stay and chat with your friend. The horse looks like it needs a rest.”
Hoping she did not look too aghast, Sienna silently acknowledged that, clearly, her good buddy was throwing her under a bus. The glint of mischief in Naisha’s eyes as she and Willa gathered up their picnic things, placed the baby in her carrier and made for the car, confirmed this. Before Sienna could protest, Naisha added, “I’m sure you could get a ride home.” She waggled her fingers as she slid behind the wheel. “Bye!”
Sienna vowed to find a way to get her back for that, and then turned back towards Max, who was dismounting with a particularly annoying grin on his face. “There’s a good friend to have,” he commented, tongue in cheek.
“Good friend, nothing. She abandoned me.”
He was right in front of her now. “Do you really feelabandoned?”
She never got the time to answer, because Max was upon her, kissing her like a hungry man, almost lifting her off her feet. She kissed him back with equal ardor, as if focusing on the physicality of the contact negated the emotional underpinnings she had been struggling to deny. As she kissed him, though, it became clear to her how much she missed him when he wasn’t with her, and how much she looked forward to their evenings.
It wasn’t something she wanted to think about. All she wanted to do was kiss him and enjoy the way it felt.
Letting her go, Maxim stepped back, admiring her in her maxi dress. “Good to see you,” he said softly.
“You too,” she admitted, but begrudged him the admission.
Folding his arms, he looked at her and asked, “So, how is it that you’re acquainted with the comtesse?”
Sienna shrugged. “Naisha and I have been friends since she married my best friend Jacyn’s brother-in-law, William.”
Maxim’s brows shot up in sudden understanding. “Ah, Jacyn is Alexandre’s wife. It never occurred to me that you were so closely linked to the Dubois’.”
Sienna shrugged. “I’ve been staying at the château.”
Changing the topic of conversation, he asked, “Can I show you something?”
Curious, though guarded, Sienna agreed to see whatever it was he wanted to show her.
“Want to ride over?”
“No way!” she protested. “You already got me on your bike and I survived. Are you trying to break my neck on horseback, too?”
Laughing outright, he grabbed the horse’s reins. “Okay,mon minou. We can walk.”
With the horse docilely following, the couple skirted the lake for twenty minutes, and Sienna thought it almost unnecessary for Max to hold the reins. The walk was pleasant and quiet, and she found herself settling in beside him, honestly just glad to be where she was, and with whom, on a lovely afternoon such as this one.
Halting before a small grove of trees, Max tied the horse to a sapling and whispered to him to be still. Sienna looked at him with curiosity. It seemed to her they were in the middle of nowhere.
“Serial killer much?” she asked, only half joking.
He chuckled. “Don’t worry. You aren’t about to end your days in a shallow grave.” He pointed at a tree a couple of yards away. “Look over there. Look up.”
To her surprise, there was a treehouse balanced on the broad branches of a thick-trunked tree, so neatly placed and so well made that it was clear it had been professionally crafted, rather than cobbled together by kids. She looked at him questioningly.
“Yours?” she asked.
“My and my brother’s. The Dubois boys used to hang out here, too. As I said, they were older than me, but we had things in common.” He pointed at a faded, hand painted sign that said Interdit aux filles—No girls allowed.