AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nope. Because it’s not a date.”
No kidding. “You have a lot of opinions on my dates,” I say. But I probably shouldn’t linger on the way he turned down Joe for me back in Seattle, then announced he wanted a pic taken at the same time that I happened to have a date with Lucas.
Like Max knew I’d prioritize work over a date.
“I have a lot of opinions on a lot of things,” he says, evading the question. Maybe he doesn’t want to linger on thewhyeither.
I glance around, spotting a couple a few tables over on an obvious date. “I bet you have an opinion on whether they should be here. Want to tell them it’s a bad idea for a first date?”
“Nah. Damage is already done,” he says, then clears his throat. “So where’s your date taking you next? Bingo? Bridge? Mahjong?”
His sweetness never lasts long. “No, Max, we’re having a drink next Monday night. At The Spotted Zebra. Does that meet your approval? Or do you need me to reschedule it yet again?”
He scowls but then grumbles. “That’s better.”
“Glad to have your approval.”
“I wouldn’t call it approval,” he says.
“What would you call it?”
But he doesn’t answer. Instead, he pins me with a serious stare, his eyes searching my face, his jaw ticking. “Who is this guy?”
Like he needs to know I’m seeing my former therapist for a second date. “Just a guy.”
“A nice guy?” It’s asked like that’s a terrible thing.
“Yes,” I admit. “Is that so bad?”
“If that’s your type.”
“Do you think I prefer unapproachable men? Difficultmen? Grumpy men?” I counter before I think the better of it.
A flicker of a knowing grin coasts across his lips, but then it disappears. “No idea.” He holds my gaze, a new form of chicken, a new type of challenge. My heart rate stutters. My skin heats. His eyes roam over me, then he slides his teeth along his bottom lip before adding, “It’s hard to say, sunshine.”
I swallow roughly, trying to get my bearings. When he looks at me like that, I feel as if I should cancel my date with Lucas entirely.
But it’s not like I’m going to date Max. That simply can’t happen so I lift my phone, segueing to work mode. “I should post some pics,” I say.
“Have at it,” he says, looking particularly delectable right now with the lighting and the snug T-shirt and the don’t-have-a-care-in-the-world attitude.
“Can I take a pic of you here?”
It takes him a beat to decide, then he says, “Sure.”
I snap a shot, and he looks too good for my own good. All broody and intense, but somehow…approachable too. The goalie out of the office. But who is this man for real? Is he the jerk who taunts me, or is he the man who gently offers to talk anytime?
I don’t know.
And I want to.
As I prep the post, the server returns with my iced tea. I down some quickly, then show Max the images from today before I upload them. I covered any naked parts of riders with stickers of hockey pucks and added the shot of him here. The caption reads:Today a friend brought me to this event.
He lifts a brow in curiosity. “Are we friends now?”
“Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet,” I say.
“Thanks for the warning.”
