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“You don’t have to think the worst of me,” he says with a grin. “I’m a good guy. And if you’re not interested, then all this weekend will be is a fun time between friends.”
Friends.
I get the sense I can trust Maximus Steele, so it’s not like I’m worried that he will go to the police, or Preston Tate, and tell them the truth.
I don’t worry… much.
But there’s this thing I feel in my stomach when he smiles at me. Because of our moment last night, as adorably drunk as he was. Because of that…
“It’s not that there’s no interest,” I admit, giving myself a swift kick for opening my mouth. Do I want to encourage him? Do I want to—?
“I don’t do pity. Or obligation,” Max says with a frown. “Or favours. Still, boo-tiful—” This brings a smile to my face. “There she is. Finally, a real smile.”
“I smile.”
“Not at me. Just so you know, when something happens between us—”
My head jerks up. “When?”
He gestures toward me. “You are still sitting here after I’ve made an ass of myself several times, so yeah. When.”
He nails the winning smile this time and there’s that thing happening in my stomach. The twist or the tug that I haven’t felt in a very long time. “Well, then,” I say, because for once, I don’t have a comeback for that. I’ve had enough men imply and insinuate they’ll end up in bed with me, that I have a notebook full of retorts. But with Max…
I scrape up a pile of sugar from the box before I stab the last piece of bun. “All done.”
I don’t want to outright refuse him. Or encourage.
But maybe…
“Let’s go find you a dress.”
16
Maximus
Idon’t know what to think about Cady.
I know exactly what I’m thinking about Cady, but not anything that’s going on in her head.
Once in a while she gives me this look and I think I might have a chance, but then she closes up, the refrigerator door closing, locking me out of all the yummy things inside.
I doubt she’d like to be referred to as such, so I should keep my mouth shut about that.
After our snack, we wander the mall.
I wander—Cady keeps half her attention on her phone and the other saying no to things like bathing suits, smelling candles, and the bookstore.
“I have a book,” she says.
“You need more than one book.”
“Not if you don’t have time to read.”
Eventually, I have to practically push her into a store because I can totally picture her in the dress set up in the window.
I tell her I like the colours, not that picturing her in the dress will stick in my head.
Inside, Cady checks her phone again while I grab the manager.
