Page 29 of Written with Love

Maybe he had.

She lost track of how long they’d been sitting there enjoying one another’s company, and when she glanced around she realized they were the last people in the dining room.

“Gosh, I think they’re going to lock us in here soon.” She laughed and stood up.

He glanced at his watch and stood as well. “Time got away from us. I’ll pay and then walk you out.” They moved over and she stood by as he paid.

Then, to her happy surprise, Max reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers as they strolled out of the now quiet and dimly lit restaurant together. The spring night air was crisp and carried the faintest scent of salt from the ocean. The soft glow of the streetlamps painted golden halos over the sidewalk. The sound of their footsteps echoed in the near-empty parking lot, and, for a moment, everything felt perfect. Simple.

She snuck a glance at him, marveling at the easy way he held her hand, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like they’d been doing it forever.

When they reached her car, he tugged her gently towards him, wrapping her in his arms without hesitation. The warmth of his body seeped into hers as he leaned down, his lips brushing close to her ear.

“This has been the best night,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. It sent a little shiver down her spine.

She nodded against his chest, taking a deep breath, and the familiar, intoxicating scent of him surrounded her—clean and woodsy, with that faint musk she was starting to crave more than she cared to admit.

God, she wanted to stay here forever, locked in this moment. Just the two of them.

But then she felt it. A sudden tension in his shoulders. His arms around her stiffened as if someone had flipped a switch.

Before she could ask what was wrong, she heard it—clicking sounds, rapid and sharp like insect wings snapping in the dark. Then came the blinding bursts of white light.

Flashes. Cameras.

Her stomach dropped.

“Go. Go home,” Max whispered urgently, his mouth still close to her ear, but his tone had shifted. Protective. Serious. “I’ll deal with them. See you tomorrow.”

Before she could protest, he was already guiding her towards the driver’s side door with surprising force. The next thing she knew, she was inside the car, her hands gripping the steering wheel as another series of blinding flashes went off directly in her face through the windshield.

It was chaos.

Voices shouted out from the shadows. Questions she couldn’t quite make out. The harsh strobe of camera flashes flickered like fireworks, making her vision spotty.

Then, mercifully, Max stepped between her and the pack of photographers, his broad back blocking most of the view. He stood there like a shield, his hands raised slightly as if warning them back.

Juliette’s heart pounded as she started the engine. She tried to ease away from the curb, but it wasn’t easy. Two of the paparazzi moved as if they owned the road, one of them standing directly in front of her car and snapping picture after picture like she was some kind of spectacle.

Why? Wouldn’t the shots all be the same? Her staring like a frozen deer in headlights? Probably looking haggard and very un-Hollywood.

She wanted to scream. Or cry. Or both. But instead, she gritted her teeth and focused on not hitting anyone as she inched forward.

Max appeared again at the front of her car, his hand gesturing firmly for the photographer to move aside. There was a brief exchange—Max’s voice low but clearly displeased—before the man finally gave up and stepped back with a scowl.

Juliette didn’t wait another second. As soon as the space cleared, she pulled out and drove down the street, her hands trembling around the steering wheel.

In the rear-view mirror, she caught one last glimpse of Max standing there, still facing them down, still protecting her from the onslaught of flashing cameras.

And somehow, that made her heart ache even more than the chaos itself.

By the time she got home, Max had texted her to make sure she’d made it home okay.

“Yes, home safe. You?”

“Just pulled in. Thanks again for going to dinner with me. I was really hoping to end the night with a kiss.”

“Next time. See you tomorrow.” She smiled for the rest of the night.