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Chapter 8
“You gotin late,” Jen saidwhen Gigi emerged fromher bedroomthenextmorning. Ithad been after two a.m. bythetimeshehad showered and gotten intobed,and herneckand backweremaking her payfortheimpromptusleep in therocking chair.
“Maxgotcalled away. I had nochoicebuttostay.”
Jen peeredatherfromwhereshereclined onthecouch. “Whatdo you thinkofhim?”
Whatdid she think?ShethoughthewasaGreekgod tolookatbut,butnomatter how good he looked,as soon asheopened hismouth,shewasleftwith a nastytastein hermouth. “He’sabitof a jerk,”shereplied.
Jen laughed. “Douchebag ismorelikeit. You should haveheardhimread ustheriotactatwork yesterday.Everyonewas wetting theirpants.”
“Everyoneexceptforyou,right?”sheasked,shufflingover tothecoffeemaker. She mayhave been goingoutfor breakfast,butshecouldn’tfunction withoutcaffeinein hersystem.
“You knowme,Borello. I don’tbowdowntoanyguy.”
Gigi smirked toherself. Shecould justimaginethesparkswhenJen andMaxwenthead-to-head. “Whatare you doing up soearlyanyway?”sheasked,bringing thefreshly-pouredcup ofcoffeeto her lips.
“I thoughtI’d go tothe gym.”
Shenearlyspatouthercoffee.“Sincewhen do you workout?”
“SinceIwantto getintothepantsof thehead bartenderatwork. Hesaid hewasgoing before worktoday.”
“You onlymet himyesterday,right?”
“All ittakesis amoment,”Jen preened.
She rolled hereyes.“Well,havefun. I need totakea showerthen I’mgoing outtobreakfast.”
“With Alex?”Jen drewout her classmate’sname, smirking atGigi’sfrown.
“WithMax,actually.”
For amoment,Jenhad nothing tosayin response.Gigi soaked up the blissful quiet. “Isthisa date?”shespluttered.
“No. It’snota date. Thisishimsaying thankyou to mestaying withErin last nightwhilehehad togotowork.”
Thesmileon herroommate’sfacewasdevious.“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
After showering and getting dressed,GigigotamessagefromMaxwiththeaddressof the place theyweremeeting. Sheactuallyalreadyknewwhereitwas;sheand Jen wenttherequiteregularly for breakfast.Picking up her messengerbag,shelefttheapartment.
She walkedinto Amy’sBread twentyminutes later.Maxwasn’tthereyet. Finding a table,shelooked over themenu,butglanced up when shefelteyesonher.
Maxwasstanding in thedoorway,staring ather intensely. She squirmed in her seat,droppingher gazetothetable. Theair seemedtothicken asheapproached. Eventually, thewheelsofErin’sstrollercrept intoGigi’sfieldofvision.
“Thankyouforcoming.”
Shelooked up.“Thank you…Imean,you’rewelcome.”
“Haveyouorderedyet?”Sheshookherhead,watching Maxsitdown in thechair oppositeher. Hegavethe menu a cursoryonceover.“I’veneverbeen herebefore. Haveyou?”
“Jen and I comeherequiteoften,actually.”
“What’sgood?”Hewaslooking attherear pagenow,his eyesscanning thewholething. Even though she had onlyreallyknown himfor justover twenty-four hours,fromher experience—and from Jen’sreports—hisdefaultmodewasserious. Shemightalsoadd grouchytothatlist.
“TheParisian breakfastis prettygood.”
Maxflippedthemenu back over again and read the description.“Whatare you having?”
