Page 82 of Maximus

“Morning, boys.”

“Morning, Max,” Liam happily chirped.

“Morning, Max,” Eli parroted.

With a kiss to each of the boy’s heads I stood and made my way into the kitchen, Max hot on my heels, and suddenly I was nervous.

“You okay?” he asked as soon as we were out of the kids sight.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” I returned.

“Why would you ask me that?”

I busied myself getting a mug out of the cabinet and poured Max some coffee. I used the creamer that was already on the counter and added a splash into the steaming cup a’ Joe before I offered it to Max.

“What’s wrong?” I asked when he stared at the mug instead of taking it.

“You know how I like my coffee,” he noted and took it from me.

“Um, yeah, I’ve watched you make it a few times now.”

Max kept staring at me like I’d built a rocket ship and not just splashed and stirred some liquids together.

“Why were you thinking about Florida?” he asked, abandoning his earlier question and the strange response to me making him coffee.

“I was just thinking about all of the stuff I didn’t want to think about today,” I sighed.

“Come again?”

“It would be nice to have one day where I didn’t have to think about contract killers, explosions, or attempted murder,” I echoed my thoughts. “And that made me think of something that Tex said yesterday. He wiped my identity so I was wondering what happens now and what about the money I had in the bank, is that gone? I also started thinking about the boys and how I’m going to have to enroll Liam in school in a few weeks. And what about a job? I guess I need to call my boss and quit. Then there’s the lease on—”

“Whoa, Eva. Slow down.” Max stepped closer to me and I inhaled his fresh, clean scent. He must’ve showered. “Babe?”

“Yeah?” I blinked up at him.

“You zoned out again.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. Your nose scrunched and your eyes went hazy.”

“I was just thinking about you in the shower.” Max’s deep rumble of laughter jolted me to continue. “No, I wasn’t thinking about you in the shower. I was thinking that you smelled good—so you must’ve taken a shower.”

My explanation in no way calmed his amusement, if anything, he laughed harder.

“Thanks, I guess. I’m not sure if that’s a backhanded way of telling me I don’t smell good unless I’m freshly showered, or if I’m flattered you’re thinking about me in the shower.”

“Why would that flatter you?”

“Because I like that you’re thinking about me naked, wet, and soapy.”

My face flamed, because I hadn’t gotten that far in my contemplation of him showering. But now that he mentioned it, I couldn’t stop picturing him just as he’d described—naked, wet, and soapy. Then I started wondering if he’d think I was weird if I asked him to join me while I showered later because I really wanted to see him naked, wet, and soapy.

“Jesus, you’re cute.”

“Huh?”

Max leaned in, kissed my cheek, my forehead, then brushed his lips against mine. He didn’t move away—instead, he whispered, “You’re cute as hell when I know you’re thinking dirty thoughts.”