FH: Just Found Heaven Ch. 03: Tara

This time Max laughed outright when I hit him again.

"Jerk. As far as I know, I'm the only single sexy lesbian in attendance tonight."

"Well, you already look the part so I'm sure singing, someday my princess will come in the hotel lounge would be amazing, free entertainment enjoyed by all."

Max caught my hand before I could pop him a third time, pressing a kiss to my knuckles like he had earlier. Warm, happily platonic affection.

He grinned when I rolled my eyes but I didn't pull away when he tugged me close so I could rest my head against the solidness of his shoulder. "I'd settle for a nice girl with goddess-like hands that can make me purr like a high-end sports car when she gets right up under my hood."

I felt the rumble of Max's laughter vibrate throughout his body before he leaned down to press a light kiss to the top of my head, close enough for me to catch a whiff of the clean, aquatic cologne I'd gotten him for his birthday, and which he only wore on special occasions because at the hospital, eau de sterile alcohol was how he rolled.

"Isn't that a requirement for anyone who wants to fly a capital L on their freak flag?'

I rolled my eyes as I sat up again so I could look at him without craning my neck. Even seated, Max was half a head taller than me.

"Knowing how to properly lick a clit just because you have one is preposterous propaganda put out by the same people who believe that all blondes, even bottled ones, have more fun. I mean, can all men give great head just because they have a dick?"

Max's dimples teased me when his grin turned slow and lazy, obviously reset to his normal levels of self-possession for the time being. "Don't have an answer for you there gorgeous because I do have a dick, know how to give excellent head and have never had any complaints from women when I've revved their engines." His smile deepened again as he winked at me. "Not even from my favorite lesbian."

"Your vast knowledge of how to properly push my start button with your tongue is duly noted."

"So is yours Sunshine."

We grinned at each other stupidly, and for a moment I hesitated in voicing the thoughts suddenly on my mind because I didn't want to potentially napalm this happy moment. But even though I'd already played out my role earlier as therapist Tara, best friend Tara still had a few things to add.

"Hey you."

Max lifted a curious brow silently, encouraging me to continue so I reached for his hand again.

"You and Sam didn't work out and on paper that makes sense. But, as happy as my therapist's heart is that you're that self-aware, as your bestie bitch I also need to point out that two things can always be true at once. In this case, you couldn't be what Sam needed in a romantic life-mate. Also true, he couldn't be what you needed."

Max's eyebrow arched again and this time it held.

"Uh huh, bet you never let that possibility sneak into your self-flagellating little mind, did you? Well let me introduce a new theory for you to think, think, think about later like a properly pondering Pooh Bear when you steal the last of my expensive local orange blossom honey, and smear it over those God-awful, store brought honey buns."

Max's eyebrow lowered but his lips quirked slightly in amusement. "Okay sweetness. Lay it all out on, me extra slow."

"That right there," I said as I gently flicked his nose with my finger. "The sass. The all-in confidence. Your ability to compartmentalize even when life is kicking you in the nads, and making your life tip sideways. It all adds up to a level of tough self-reliance that's commendable, and frankly, impressive as hell, but living like that 24-7 has to be exhausting."

His lips twitched again. "And you have a cure for all that?"

"Yep. You need a partner in your life who's the badass male equivalent of me."

Max laughed and I nodded as I opened my purse to snag another mint for myself first before I tossed one in a perfect 3 point shot into his waiting mouth when he opened it.

"Well, as close to my awesomeness as he can manage anyway. As long as he's somewhere in my ballpark, that kind of man will be as strong and stubborn as you are and will provide you with both a safe space, and the permission to use it so you can exhale while he takes a turn carrying all that pressure you put on yourself to be a good friend, a fantastic doctor and a frigging AMAZING MAN."

"Tara..."

"Nope," I said to shush him as I made an accompanying shh hand gesture. "I know that you're a strong, self-reliant mofo, all Doc McSteamy, and McDreamy rolled into one. But real life isn't the ER, Max. It's even messier because there isn't a handbook for diagnosing the ups and downs, and occasionally, even the best doctors need to take a minute."

I gave his hand a little shake to ease some of the tension I felt building in his body. "Sam was and is a badass in so many ways, but love, the lasting kind, is a two way street, and he wasn't strong enough to be your support during those times that you needed someone to prop you up. It doesn't mean that he didn't love you enough try and break down your stupid walls. He just wasn't the right man for you. And that's ok because just like he found the right person for him, so will you, because I, as the wind beneath your goddamn wings have decreed it."

Max blinked owlishly at me for a moment, but then he laughed and it was genuine enough that I knew that even if he buried my words of wisdom beneath a layer of booze later, deep down he wouldn't forget it. Just in case though...

"You need a very specific type of man, Max. Someone who's strong enough to let you be the one to break when you have to because he's got a whole stash of superglue. A guy whose confident enough to fight back when you get stupid, and who won't let you screw yourself out of the happiness you deserve just because you're afraid of what could happen if you admit to giving a crap about your people as much as you actually do."

I sat up and reached for my stilettos, handing them to Max to still the protest I saw starting in his eyes before he could vocalize it. I propped my feet on Max's lap so that he could buckle the shoes on for me like he'd done with my harness that one night we'd spent together. Max Melone was all about helping a friend in need.

"The guy who's right for you can, and will go all in, balls out, and tell you to sit down, be still, and take a damn breath because it's alright for someone else to take the wheel sometimes. Sam was a Ranger, but baby boy, you didn't hold out for a hero. God love you, you need a soldier as defined by the Queen herself, Ms. Beyonce."

Max threw back his head and laughed again, this time full out and hard enough to temporarily have to stop what he was doing. Our eyes met when he got a hold of himself and he nodded.

"Yes ma'am. Noted."

He grinned at me when I made a dismissive hand gesture and got back to his task. His fingers were warm and sure against my ankle as he finished buckling the thin strap but it was a comfortable heat, not the temperature spiking touch I wanted to experience from smaller, feminine hands one day. Hands that would light me up like a spark plug, and put me through every gear expertly until I zoomed hot over the finish line, before slowing me down by increments instead of a harsh stop; a proper, well-executed run so that we could both enjoy the downtime before the next race with glasses of wine, some actual conversation and maybe a night of binge-watching trash TV.

Granted, dream woman who were beautiful and intelligent, with gentle souls and a little bit of bite who also deserved to wear Nate's ring on their finger weren't exactly banging down my door. But if I was going to be forced to look like a princess for a day, I might as well take advantage of an opportunity that as God was my witness, would never happen again, no matter how precious Emma was.

"A dream is a wish your heart makes, when you're fast asleep..."

When Max quirked an eyebrow at me, I shrugged and stood up with both shoes on so I could reach one hand down to help him up.

"Hey, it's not Jessica Rabbit jazzy, but I'm a professionally successful, 34-year-old woman wearing iridescent body glitter because apparently, I can't say no to six-year-old. It's the best I can do right now. Let's go."

I waited until Max had unrolled and re-buttoned the sleeves of his dress shirt and put on his suit jacket again before I held out my hand. Instead of just holding it, Max quickly spun me out gracefully, then twirled me twice with that same sensual ease he showed whenever went out dancing together. I loved to dance and people who believed that white boys didn't have rhythm had never hung out with Max who held court wherever we went.

My skirt billowed around my ankles, caught by the breeze before Max dipped me back in those strong, leanly muscled arms that I doubted would ever let me fall any more than Nate's would've.

"No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep believing..." he sang, making my lips curve into an answering grin as his deep baritone carried the tune easily and harmonized perfectly with mine as we sang the last line together.

"The dream that you wish will come true..."

Little girls and Disney Channel marathons really were vessels of Satan.