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Really? Because it’s about as clear as mud to me. We enter the clinic and my eyes fall on her delicious hips again.
Friend zone feels like hell already.
Chapter Seven
Emilia
On Thursday, I arrive late at the clinic in the morning. Grams was very agitated, and it took some time to calm her down. Thankfully, Max is my first appointment for the day, but that doesn’t mean it’s okay to be late. I’ve built my reputation in the clinic by having an impeccable work ethic. As I drive my car into the parking lot behind the clinic, I see Max emerging from a sleek black car. He gives me a thumbs-up when he notices me and leans against his car, obviously waiting for me. Today he doesn’t wear one of his suits, instead sporting jeans and a simple white shirt. After stepping out of my car, I smooth down my skirt and beam at him.
We walk into the clinic together, heading to the elevator. Max’s assigned training room is on the second floor. I press the button once we’re in the elevator, and as the doors close, we head upward with a jolt. I focus on the buttons, acutely aware of Max’s presence behind me. The space is tiny, almost claustrophobic, and even though my back is turned to Max, I can smell his cologne. The scent is a danger to my senses, instantly sending my thoughts into Dirtyland. The faster we get out of here, the better. But when the elevator finally comes to a stop, I know something is wrong. My fears are confirmed when the doors don’t open.
“Hell, no,” I exclaim, pushing the button that should open the doors. Nothing happens.
“Are we stuck?” Max asks.
“I think so, yeah.” With a tsk, I push the emergency button.
“How may I help you?” A female voice resounds through the speaker above the emergency button.
“We’re stuck in the elevator,” I inform her, adding the address of the clinic.
“All right,” the woman says. “A repair team is on their way.”
“How long will they need?” I ask.
“At the very least forty minutes.”
Max swears from behind me. I elbow him gently just as the woman says, “Did you say something, miss?”
“No. It’s fine. I’ll wait. We’ll wait. There is a patient with me inside the elevator. Are you sure there’s nothing you can do so the team gets here quicker?”
“Afraid not.”
“Okay.”
The line goes static, and unable to put it off much longer, I turn around to face Max. He leans against the wall opposite the elevator doors, his arms crossed over his chest, an uncharacteristic sour expression on his face.
“Max?” I ask tentatively.
“I hate small spaces,” he murmurs.
“Oh my God, that’s right. You do.”
Drops of sweat dot his temples and his gaze darts to the doors every few seconds. His hands are curled into tight fists at his sides. I know what I have to do—take his mind off it, make him focus on something that isn’t our location.
“How’s work?” I inquire.
Max doesn’t reply. His eyes travel up and down the doors before he finally slides down the elevator wall, assuming a sitting position on the floor. The instinct to hug him—comfort him in any way—is overwhelming. Briefly, I wonder if I can use the need to calm him down as an excuse to kiss him. But that would be a bad, bad idea. I join him on the floor wordlessly.
“Stressful at the moment. We’re preparing for a show. We do those regularly to present the new collections.”
“I know, I’ve read about it in magazines. Pippa is the designer. How is she?” I ask, melancholy hitting me mercilessly as I think about the eldest Bennett sister. She was always a warm presence in the Bennett household, even when she was being a spitfire because someone crossed her. I adored her.
“Happily married and pregnant with twin girls.”
“No way. Wow. How far along is she?”
“Around seven months. Yesterday the girls kicked her constantly while she was listening to music in her office. Now she’s convinced they will be musicians.”
