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When I’d done my Max creeping, I’d noticed he had degrees in architectureandengineering, which somehow made him wildly interesting to me.
Probably because I sucked at math and he obviously did not.
“Nooffense?” Max said with a teasing gleam in his dark eyes. “Because I work in construction. Have you been stalking me, Miss Steinbeck?”
“I wouldn’t say stalking,” I replied, having a hard time not grinning. “More like investigating.”
“Should I be alarmed?” he asked, looking anything but. He looked, actually, like he was amused that I’d checked him out.
He also looked really freaking hot.
He was wearing nothing special—black button-down shirt,faded jeans, square-toed boots—but he wore nothing specialwell.His shirt was rolled up, giving a little forearm, and I was distracted by the breadth of his chest. I was definitelynotadmiring the curve of his ass in those jeans.
Perhaps I needed to slow down on the wine.
I said, “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t a serial killer before I hopped in the car with you.”
“Do LinkedIn profiles include murdering statuses?”
“Ish.”
“Seriously with that?”
“Do you want to hear about Chuck or not?” I set down my wineglass and crossed my arms, my gaze returning to the man.
“Lay it on me, Soph.”
Soph.We barely knew each other, but I was already Soph to him. It didn’t make sense, but it felt right for him to call me that.
Probably because of his involvement in my wedding. That gave us history, somehow, a weird foundation to connect to this new friendship.
Friendship?Were we friends?
“He’s one of those guys who knows enough to be dangerous. A do-it-himselfer, even when he shouldn’t be.”
“I know a lot of those,” Max muttered, also watching Chuck.
“So in the face of danger, he’s going to go all in on his machismo-fueled need to prove he’s a man, right? He’s going to gas up his generator, chop his own wood, get out his crossbow, and find a deer to kill even though his pantry is still full of food.”
As if hearing me, Chuck’s head swiveled in my direction and he looked right at me.
“Gahhh,” I managed, whipping my stool around so I was facing the bar again.
“I think Chuckles sensed your degradation,” Max said, smirking as he slowly turned his stool around, as well.
“I think he did,” I agreed.
“Holy shit, you guys!” TJ appeared from nowhere—now in a hoodie and jeans—and took the stool beside Max, wearing a huge smile. “That was amazing. I can’t believe it worked!”
God, that took me back to my wedding day, the way I’d felt right afterward. It was like a lifetime of stress and worry had dissolved instantly and I’d felt like I could run a hundred miles.
“Can I hug you, Sophie?” he asked me, and that took me a little off guard. I wasn’t a hugger and definitely hadn’t expected this stranger to request it, but I wasn’t a jerk, either.
“Of course,” I said, and the words were barely out of my mouth before he was on his feet and wrapping his arms around me. It was a big, tight, all-encompassing hug that for some reason made me feel a little emotional.
“Thank you so much,” TJ said, and when he pulled back I could see the tears in his eyes.
Tears, sadness, exhaustion, but also—I could see relief.
