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He nods to me and then to Max who is still gripping that fork in his hand.
“Max,” I hiss when the door chimes jangle, indicating that Gianni has escaped a rather bloody fate. “What the hell was that? You took a fork to his goddamn throat! In a diner!”
The fork clatters on the Formica tabletop. “We have a history. I thought he might have had a weapon on him.”
“Are you freaking kidding me? He had one working arm!”
“Not kidding. I’ve seen him do plenty of things with fewer working limbs that would make your head spin.”
“And what about you?”
“No, they didn’t make my head spin.”
I groan and clutch the sides of my head. “Who grabs a fork to stab someone like that? Why would you even feel the need to do that and put him in a chokehold? He’s already handicapped!”
“He’s a dangerous guy, Sloane. And he’s unpredictable. I was protecting myself. And you.”
“You don’t think you overreacted just a little bit?”
“If he’d have pulled a gun and fired off a couple of shots, would it have been an overreaction?”
“No, but he didn’t.”
“He could have.”
“So this is what you do every day, huh? Your actual job?”
“Professional fork assassin? No. that’s not my official title. Although,” he taps his fingertips on the table. “It has a nice ring. Good for the resume.”
“You’re making fun of me, and I’m just trying to find out why the hell I’m sitting across from a guy who is as evasive as they come and would think nothing of gouging someone with silverware.”
“Well, fuck me if I’m wrong, but I think it’s because it excites you.”
“You’re sick.”
“And yet you’re still sitting here. What does that tell you?”
I roll my eyes. “Is he a business associate?”
“I would never do business with an asshole like that.”
“So what’s the issue? Why is there so much bad blood?”
Max’s chiseled features soften, and he’s back to being Mr. Hyde. “Um, do you not know me at all? I don’t exactly leave most people with a warm and fuzzy.”
My head drops into my hands. “Oh my God. What the hell am I doing with you? I don’t know if I’m getting you or your alter-ego half the time.”
“But that’s good, right? I mean, that tells me you know half the time who you are getting. I think that’s more than what other people can say about me. Besides, my alter-ego is a sexy fuck.”
“Yeah, sexy like The Incredible Hulk.” I roll my eyes. “I mean, come on! What the hell were you going to do with that fork? Was what happened between you that bad that you had to resort to using cutlery as a scare tactic?”
“Well, my baseball bat is back at the office, so…” He snickers and sips his water.
“You have a response for everything, don’t you?”
“Isn’t that what makes a conversation? Didn’t you yell at me for being a crappy conversationalist before? That if it’s one-sided it’s not really a conversation? I’m just trying to do what you told me. How can that be bad? I think most women would appreciate a man listening to them and taking their advice.”
I shake my head as my tall stack of blueberry pancakes is set in front of me. “Let me consider my answer while I devour these babies. I’ll be in a better frame of mind once my stomach stops grumbling, and I can shower off the past twelve hours.”
Max’s fingers creep over to mine and stroke the top of my hand. “I have a lot of things to contribute to this part of the conversation if you’re interested.”
“And what part would that be?”
“The part where I explain, in great detail, what I’m going to do to you during that shower and exactly what I’m going to devour once I get you home.”
“The suspense is killing me.” I pop a heaping forkful of pancakes dripping with syrup onto my fork. “Ha. No pun intended.”
