Oh . . . asecuritycompany.
My eyes rolled as soon as I understood. There was only one man worried about my safety enough to pull something like this.
Max.
Grabbing my phone, I found his contact and quickly dialed his number. One ring, two, and then his gruff voice filled the air.
“Who is this?” he grumbled on the other end of the line.
I’d had just about enough of this man. “What do you mean, ‘Who is this?’ You know who this is!”
“Rosalie.” Max’s voice softened immediately. “Is there a man on the other side of your door?”
“Yeah.”
“Right, that’s Johnny. Let him in.”
I didn’t care who it was. “No.”
“Don’t make this complicated.”
“I will make this complicated. I’m not inviting a random man into my house.”
“What about me? Would you let me in?”
He was here too?
Taking a deep breath, I cautiously peeked through the peephole again. There, approaching from the main door,stopping right next to Johnny, was Max. I’d forgotten how tall he was, but that didn’t mean I’d forgotten how grumpy.
They were having a separate conversation on the other side of the door—one I couldn’t hear through the phone.
Defeated, with a sigh that spoke volumes of my irritation (and my particular weakness for arrogant men), I reached for the doorknob and slowly cracked the door open.
The moment Max’s eyes found mine, he smiled—the kind that usually melted my control but this time only intensified my anger. I realized now it was way too early to deal with him.
“Absolutely not,” I declared, my voice surprisingly strong.
I moved to shut the door, imagining the satisfying click. But just as my fingertips brushed the cold wood of the doorframe, just before the oh-so-satisfying click could sound, a well-shined Oxford shoe wedged itself between the door and the jamb.
Of course.
Then I saw it. In his hand he held a large, steaming cup of coffee, with my name written on it in a cursive.
Oh?He’d come prepared.
I’d tried to forget it, but that feeling in my belly returned.
He pushed past the door, his body heat momentarily invading my personal space, and held the coffee out to me.
I grabbed it.
“Go ahead,” Max said to Johnny.
He stepped inside.
I craned my neck to see the sheepish-looking man shuffling through my apartment with his bag of equipment. Johnny went straight to work, muttering something about cables, while Max took a slow, deliberate stride toward me.
I held the warm cup, inhaling the rich hazelnut cream, surprised he’d got my order right. I blew against the surface before taking a sip and then licked my lips, feeling the warmth of the coffee on my tongue.
