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He grins down at me. His dimple is so awesome that I think there should be a shrine somewhere in the world dedicated to it. He shakes his head at me. “Liar.”
I feel a flush creep up from my neck. I fight the urge to be a bitch. I really do. “What can I do for you?”
Without waiting for an invitation, he slides past me and into my apartment. Stuck in the doorway, I try with all my might not to think about how his body felt sliding next to mine.
Sweet Jesus on a platter! He’s toned.
He moves across the room, over to the kitchen. He opens my fridge and sighs. “I’m hungry.” He looks up at me. “Are you hungry? We should get something to eat.”
I dip my chin. Why must he be so…Max?
“Max, we’ve been here before. Dude, focus. Why are you here?”
He checks my fridge again, as if food will magically appear if he looks hard enough. “What are you living on? There’s nothin’ in here. You gotta eat.” He peeks up at me, his golden eyes watching me closely. “You eaten?”
Rather than answering, I dodge the question like a pro. “I just woke up.”
His face bunches. “It’s past noon.”
I don’t have to explain myself to you.
My mind pokes its tongue out at him. “I had a late night.”
Until now, I hadn’t realized what he’s holding in his hand. He rubs absently at his belly. “I’m in bad shape over here. I need food and you have…” he winces, “milk.” His nose bunches adorably. “Milk is not food, Helena. I’m a growing boy. I can’t survive on milk. I need solids.”
Still eyeing the item in his hand, I ask quietly, “Why do you have a mini whiteboard in your hand?”
He looks down at it, then back up at me. “To talk to Mrs. Crandle.”
I don’t get it. “Why did you need to speak to Crandle?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t.”
Everything screeches to a halt. Hold the phone. My brows knotted, deep in thought, I place the fingertips of one hand over my mouth. Having gotten my thoughts together, I ask quietly, “You went out…out of your way…to buy a mini whiteboard to communicate with a deaf old lady for no good reason at all?”
His eyes narrow as he looks up in thought as if processing what I just asked. He nods quickly. “Yep.”
The complete selflessness of this single act has my mind at war with my heart. My mind, still bitter and hurt over something Max likely doesn’t even remember, rolls its eyes. My heart has tears in its eyes, sniffling and muttering, ‘I love him. Can we keep him?’ Warmth spreads through me from my belly out. “You know what? I am hungry after all.”
Max’s eyes widen in surprise before he beams. “Great! Let’s go.”
Suddenly shy, I avoid his gaze and tuck a stray hair behind my ear. I stop short. “I should probably change.”
Warmth on my lower back has me swallowing hard. Max gently coaxes me with his hand. “Don’t change, cupcake. You look good enough to eat.”
My smart mouth opens and shoots out, “Well, I’m not on the menu.”
Pew, pew, pew!
I thank God he’s behind me, because he can’t see the look of absolute horror on my face.
Who’s the real flirt here?
He leads me out of my apartment, his voice no louder than a hush as he responds, “That’s a damn shame.”
***
Helena
