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What the hell? My defenses at an all-time high, and I sputter, “I’m a single man! I’m allowed to flirt!”
“Preaching to the choir, babe.”
My mouth gapes. I can’t comprehend what I’m being told. “But why?”
Nat turns and comes at me, wearing a face full of sympathy. She cups my cheek and speaks gently, “Sometimes people don’t like other people, and sometimes they don’t need a reason at all. It happens, honey.”
Now I’m just sad. “But everyone loves me. I’m adorable.”
She pulls my face down to her and kisses my forehead. “If it means anything, I think you’re the best thing since sliced bread.”
I try not to pout, but it’s hard. Really hard. “Why doesn’t she like me? I like her.”
“Leave it alone.”
“No way!” Determination pulses through my veins. “Only one thing to do now.”
Nat eyes me suspiciously. “I’m almost scared to ask.”
I stride to the door. “I’m going to make her like me.”
She calls out after me, “It doesn’t work that way, Max. You can’t make her do anything!”
“Watch me!”
Challenge accepted.
Chapter Seven
Max
Just before I make my exit, I pick up my plate of pizza and take it with me. Truthfully, I’m a little pissed I’m having to prove I’m a good guy to some chick I don’t even know.
At least, I think I’m a good guy.
My stomach twists in knots.
Great. Now she’s got you questioning yourself. What a bitch.
Hey now, brain. Don’t you talk about her like that. I’d hate to have to kick your ass.
My brain smiles and nods in approval.
See? Good guy.
Knowing somebody doesn’t like you for such a weak reason sucks hairy balls. But it quickly makes me wonder if some asshole ex-boyfriend of hers was a flirt, someone who flirted with women in front of her. I shake my head at the thought of wanting to break Helena’s non-existent ex-boyfriend’s nose. No way would anyone who had a woman like that risk losing her over somethin’ so stupid.
It don’t matter. I’m determined to win her over. Mark my words; we are going to be friends. If I could just get her to see what a nice guy I am…
Standing in front of her door, I hold my plate in one hand and raise the other to knock. A few seconds later, Helena answers the door wearing the ugliest navy flannel pajamas I have ever seen. I have no idea how she’s pulling off looking sexy in ‘em. Her hair in a messy knot at the very top of her head, and I smile at how adorable she looks.
Brows bunched in confusion, she begins to ask, “What are you—” but as I move to step inside, I trip over my untied shoelace. The plate in my hand is projected forward, and in slow motion, I watch as the three pieces of pizza fly through the air and splatter across the front of her sleep-shirt.
Her mouth gaping and body rigid, she stands there wide-eyed, in shock. A whimper leaves her mouth. I stare at the tomato sauce marking her and I can’t help it.
I snort.
My laughter subsides when I see her face flush bright red. Her bottom lip quivers and her eyes brighten with tears. She nods once in resignation, then closes the door in my face.
