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And maybe her wearing just the jacket and those heels.
“What kind of idea?” she asks warily.
“The best kind where… you… let… me…” I draw it out, inching closer with every word. “Buy you a new dress for the wedding,” I finish in a whisper, only inches from that mouth.
She scoffs, face flushing. But at least she laughs.
15
Cady
Ibuy the pants for Max, and the shirt as well as a pair of brown leather slipper shoes that seem impractical, but Max loves them. And then I let him lead me through the mall to look for dresses.
It’s late morning and the stores are quiet, with a steady stream of older adults and young mothers with children strapped into strollers passing us.
Max waves at every child he sees.
I don’t frequent malls, so this is new for me. When I was of the age where packs of teens flooded the stores, I had a full dance schedule and weekend jobs to keep me busy, not to mention no money for frivolous shopping. When I had enough money to buy what I wanted, I still had no time.
At least I told myself that. I also convinced myself that there was nothing suitable in a generic mall that a stripper/escort could wear.
Being here, and having a “fun” day with Max is bringing so much baggage back that I think I’ll be ready for another therapy session.
“Are you hungry?” he asks as we pass close enough for the scent of the food court to drift over.
I don’t know what makes me answer honestly. I should want to finish this—find a dress and not prolong this, but— “A little,” I confess.
“Not surprised. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day and you didn’t eat with me.” He puts a hand on my lower back and steers me toward the variety of fast-food restaurants. “What’s your pleasure? Burger, Greek, salad,” he adds scornfully.
“What’s wrong with a salad?”
“Nothing, but it’s eleven-fifteen, and no one should be thinking of healthy at this time. This is elevenses time. Second breakfast.”
“Are you a hobbit?”
He looks more delighted than he should that I caught his Lord of the Rings reference. “You have to admit, those hobbits have a pretty good lifestyle.”
“They have hairy feet. I’ll have a smoothie,” I tell him, heading toward Booster Juicer.
“Healthy and practical. Boring.” Max pouts. Again, I should find his irreverence irritating, but I… don’t. “Look, there’s a Cinnabon?”
The scent of sugar and cinnamon had already reached my nose.
I pay for the smoothies while Max darts over to get a cinnamon bun, which he insists we share. This also involves finding a table, dodging three strollers and a spill of Cheerios on the floor as a group of mothers hold court with their babies.
“What would you be doing if you weren’t here?” Max carefully divides the sticky bun with a fork before setting the box on the table between us.
I take a sip of my smoothie before accepting the plastic fork. “Working.”
“Yes, but what would you be working on?”
I close my eyes as my first bite of the pastry hits all my taste buds. It’s warm and sweet and… and so good. But the realization that Max has no idea of my interest in Tingel Island sours it slightly. “There’s a property I’m looking to buy,” I say carefully.
“Business or pleasure?”
“I’m not sure yet.” The isolation and beauty of the spot call to me, but I also know it would be an ideal place to build a resort, which is why Sandflower wants it.
“And you’re not going to tell me about it because there’s a good chance we want it too.” Max grins ruefully. “Is this when we find out we’re from rival families?”
