Max closes his eyes, looking like he’s in pain. I reach over and touch his shoulder. Maybe he has problems with seizures or something?
“What’s wrong?” I ask, looking into his eyes. There’s something magnetic about the pull of them, and I slowly drop my hand from his shoulder.
“Whoever handled everything got it wrong. He’d like to make it right.”
“What’s your boss’s name?” I ask, curious.
“It’s…Oliver. Oliver Turek.” He says it like he’s trying to convince himself, but maybe he’s got a lot going on, like he said.
“I thought most commercial places were the problem of the renter.”
Shaking his head, Max says, “No, it depends on the company. There are some who do that, but for the most part, a good owner should build to suit the business coming in.”
“I can find those for you.” I pull out my phone and open a blank note. “What’s an email address I can send them to?”
“It might be easier if I type it in,” he says, reaching for my phone. I hand it to him, our fingers grazing once again for a lightning shock.
“Sorry,” I say.
He laughs. “It’s okay. You are definitely full of sparks.”
I try not to focus on the gorgeous smile he gives me. I should be backpedaling when it comes to this man, but I keep finding green flags that urge me down attraction highway.
He takes my phone and taps at the screen for a few moments and then hands it back to me. The screen is showing Max Luca listed as a contact.
I raise an eyebrow and turn to look at him, waiting for his explanation.
“I wanted to get your number, but figured I’d give you mine and you could decide what to do with it. Since I didn’t ask.”
It’s difficult to hold back my smile, and I end up giving into it. “Now why would you want my number?”
He looks around the coffee shop somewhat nervously and says, “In case I need to check on a few things for the apartments. And maybe see if you’d like to go to dinner sometime.”
My heart might’ve stopped for a whole second before pumping faster to catch up. I try to play it casually, like guys ask me for my number all the time.
“That might be doable. I’ll have to wait and see how lateyour contractor works.” We laugh, and the bell over the door rings, bringing in Pearl, one of our next-door regulars. “I should get to work.”
I slip behind the counter and get Pearl her morning cappuccino before I grab the mop to clean up a spill I didn’t see before. My mind keeps replaying the conversation I had with Max, and I can’t stop smiling.
Why I’m so excited about it when I know he’s not here long-term is the hardest part of the whole equation.
The morning moves slowly, and about thirty minutes later, I’m surprised to see Max still here, this time with a woman sitting across from him.
I tap Sarah on the shoulder. “Who’s that with Max?”
She grins. “I knew you liked him. Look at that blush on your cheeks. We need to get you and him together.”
“He put his number into my phone but told me I could text him if I wanted him to have my number.”
Sarah pretends to faint. “Um, you should go propose to that man right now. Talk about consideration and not just assuming. Mmm-hmmm,” she says, making me laugh.
I wave a hand at her. “Let’s not make it weird, okay. It was just a little thing, and we’re not going to analyze it.”
Sarah points at me. “You’ve already done that, I can tell.”
I blow out a breath, trying to regain my composure. “Will you stop? I don’t need to worry about being watched all the time for stuff like this.”
Sarah glances over again. “Looks like Talia Bernsen. I think she refinishes furniture or something.”
