“No.”
I rolled my eyes, the movement exaggerated as I threw my head back. It was clear I couldn’t catch on to his sarcasm from even a mile away, which only showed how brooding the man could be.
“And why not?” I asked, crossing my arms against my chest defensively.
“Because,” he began, “this is my job, and I?—”
“Take itveryseriously, blah, blah,blah,” I finished for him.
“Stop bickering with me, Rosalie.”
“We don’t bicker,” I began, but my own words made me pause.We do ...I couldn’t stand him sometimes—of course I was going to argue with him.
“We do bicker, and it needs to stop,” he declared.
But why would I entertain the idea of not talking to him?
Right.I won’t.
And I didn’t. Instead I did what any self-respecting woman with questionable taste in men probably shouldn’t do: I bombarded him with questions.
“When’s your birthday?” I chirped, my voice dangerously sweet.
I got nothing but silence in return.
“Favorite childhood memory?” I asked with a smile.
Same answer. Crickets.
Finally, I asked the last question I thought would get a response. “What’s your favorite car?”
Max remained silent.
“Okay,” I started again. “Why offer me a ride home if you didn’t want to?”
“Driving you home was a quicker job,” he muttered, avoiding my gaze. “I want to get home too, and that wouldn’t happen if I was stuck at your father’s house mediating another one of his negotiations.”
“So you’re saying you just ... used me as a getaway?” My mouth fell open.Why did I want him to talk, again?
Max finally turned his head to look at me. “Not exactly,” he said grumpily. “It’s a win-win. You get a ride home, and I get out of a situation I didn’t want to deal with in the first place.”
I made a face, wrinkling my nose and curling my lips into a playful pout. “It’s dreadful, really.”
“What is?”
“Talking to you.”
“You think so?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Mm-hmm,” I confirmed. The way he looked at me made it hard to keep a straight face.
“Well, you seem to do it a lot for someone who doesn’t like it.”
He was right. I did. I couldn’t help myself.
Once we’d arrived at my apartment, Max parked on the side of the road and shifted the car into park. I didn’t bother thanking him for the ride, since I wasn’t thankful at all. With a huff, I unbuckled my seat belt and reached for the door handle. But just as I was about to open the door, I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye.
It was Max, and he was getting out too.
