I stared at him in shock. Did he say plant flowers and buy shit for the kitchen?

Helpfully, I reminded him, “Max, we celebrated a new millennium a few years back.”

“So?”

“So, I’ll be earning money, I can help.”

“No,” he stated shortly, firmly and with a definite finality.

I stared at him again.

Then I asked, “That’s it? No?”

“That’s it. No.”

“I thought you didn’t have a problem with me earning more than you?”

“I don’t.”

I was no longer shocked, now I was back to confused.

“I don’t get it.”

“I don’t have a problem with you earning more than me. I do have a problem with you payin’ my bills.”

There it was. Macho Mountain Man Max. I knew there was a hitch.

“If I lived here, they would be our bills,” I pointed out.

“When you live here, you’ll be my woman, I take care of my woman therefore they’re my bills.”

Losing patience, I called, “Hello? Max? I’m calling you into the twenty-first century. Follow me into the light of a world with cell phones and sat navs and computers you can carry around in a briefcase instead of them taking up entire rooms. Oh, and where women have been financially contributing to the household for decades.”

His face remained dark and his voice was low and lethal when he told me, “Not findin’ you funny, babe.”

My body tensed but I felt my eyes get big.

“Are you serious?” I asked.

“Deadly,” he answered.

We stared at each other silently as it hit me like a succession of blows to the stomach. I was lying on my back but I still felt winded.

I had conflicting information about the state of play with Max’s bank account, but none of it had come from Max until now.

I took what I knew and I put together the picture.

I knew how much it cost to rent his house for a week, it was a small fortune. And what I paid wasn’t even the top tier of on-peak rent. In the winter months rent was nearly double what I had paid. If he was only home two months of the year, and rentals were steady as he said they were, especially in winter, he made a fortune.

And he didn’t have a mortgage.

And he had two ATVs, a snowmobile, a motorcycle, a car that needed to be kept under a tarp, a Cherokee that wasn’t brand new but it was far from old and a housecleaner.

He might not be loaded but he certainly wasn’t doing too badly for himself.

What he was was unwilling to let the little woman contribute to the household finances. He was such a macho mountain man that he would let his macho mountain man pride stand in the way of keeping his mountain clean.

Yes, here was the hitch. This was when the good part of starting out with someone turned bad. I felt the fear prickle my skin but I was too busy controlling the fury that nearly blinded me.

“Proud and stubborn,” I whispered, my stare had turned into a glare.

“What?” he asked, his stare had turned into a scowl.

Quickly I rolled off the bed and searched frantically through the clothes we’d tossed on the floor the night before. Latching onto his thermal, I straightened and struggled to yank it on, getting caught in the voluminous folds.

“Proud and stubborn,” I muttered from under the shirt, battling the sleeves.

“Nina, get back into bed.”

I successfully yanked the shirt down and glared at him.

“Just like your Mom!” I accused, my voice getting louder.

His already dark face turned that scary dark and his voice turned into a warning when he repeated, “Nina, get back into bed.”

“No!” I snapped. “You can handle me in that bed, Max, and when you do, I’ll admit, I love it. But when you aren’t f**king me, you cannot handle me.”

His brows snapped together and his voice was a low, angry rumble when he asked, “What the f**k?”

I rolled the long sleeve on one side up my wrist and as I did so I leaned forward and fairly shouted, “You! Macho Mountain Man Max! You cannot handle me, tell me the way it’s going to be! Not let me participate in the conversation! Not let me participate in our lives!” I finished rolling the sleeve and threw my arm out. “Do you think, if I lived here, that I’d want that bluff to be desecrated? Do you think I’d want a condo on it or a house or a hotel? Do you think I’d want more traffic on the road, the quiet and peace of this place ruined? Do you think I’d want the erosion of the mountain that people and building would cause?” I started rolling the other sleeve and finished on a shout, “No! I don’t want that! But are you going to give me a choice? Are you going to let me help? No again!”

He threw the covers back and I whirled and bent, digging through the clothes to find my underwear. As I did this I saw the leg of his jeans slide away and I knew he was out of bed. I found my undies, snatched them up and twirled, taking a step back from him as I saw he was close and buttoning his jeans.

I bent over and tugged my panties on, shimmying them up, abrading my scraped leg as I did but ignoring the pain.

“I can plant flowers and buy stuff for the kitchen. You’re mad!” I yelled as I pulled on my panties.

“It’s my house, babe, my land, my responsibility. This land has been in my family for over a hundred f**kin’ years.”

I straightened and faced off with him, still shouting. “Yes, you told me that and, if this works out like you’re so darned sure it will, then won’t I be your family?”

His upper body jerked and I knew I’d scored my point but I kept right on going.

“You’re absolutely fine money-wise but you’ll take this hit to have me the way you want me. Not the way I want us and that’s with me being your partner, not your little woman!” I yelled.

“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.”