He turned to face the road and said, “No.”
Right . . .
Talking to a brick wall would be more stimulating than this. Conversation wasn’t exactly Max’s forte. Or maybe it was the constant bickering. He was easily frustrated. I’d already startedto think of ways to cure him of “the grump”—purely for my sanity, not his.
“And why not?” I pressed.
“Entertaining you is not in my job description.” He couldn’t find a comfortable position for his legs—they were too long and didn’t fit in the car easily no matter how hard he tried.
“Silence it is,” I mumbled, sending him a sideways glare that didverylittle to faze him.
And silence it was.
We drove in it all the way to my apartment. The ride wasn’t terribly long, but it stretched on in my mind. When he pulled up in front of my apartment building and turned off the engine, he didn’t say anything as he got out of the car and began to follow me inside.
Was he making sure I got inside safely?
I wasn’t sure.
I’d never had Max as a driver before. It had always been Sean’s job. I much preferred Sean’s cheesy smile over Max’s permanent scowl.
Or did I? I couldn’t quite decide.
The entryway was small and dimly lit. Max let out a low groan as he approached, his scowl deepening into a full-blown grimace the moment he realized he had to duck under the doorframe to enter my apartment. He was acting like I was at fault for his height. As if I’d personally designed the doorway to torture him.
I heard him grumble something incoherent before ordering, “Wait here.”
He didn’t bother to wait for a response, instead walking in as if he owned the place.
Sean didn’t do this. He didn’t check every nook and cranny to make sure my apartment was safe for me, and I never expected him to.
Max cared differently, I guess, in his own special, brooding way. I had to give credit where credit was due. I didn’t have a scratch on my body because of him. I normally refrained from complimenting him due to his massive ego, but he knew how to do his job, and he did it well.
Stuck in the chilly hallway, I stood there with my arms crossed, tapping my toes. My stomach did a nervous flip as I heard Max walking through my bedroom. Had I left anything out? My underwear, my bras—oh god... my vibrator.
Had I left that out? No, I wouldn’t have.
Crap . . . did I?
It was embarrassing, really, but I’d had no way of knowing I’d have Max here. No idea I’d be bringing home a stray puppy.
Finally, he reappeared in the doorway and tilted his head in a silent gesture for me to follow. He didn’t say a word, but I could feel him judging my space. His eyes scanned every inch of my apartment, taking note of the mismatched furniture, the blankets stacked in the corner, and the massive collection of plants near the window.
“It’s a bit small,” I said with a defensive shrug.
When Max had been looking after me, I was still living with my parents. This was his first time seeing my apartment, and it was a mess. I walked into the kitchen, which was decorated perfectly with used dishes in the sink and dark ring stains on the counter from the wineglasses left out from the night before.
He shot me a sideways glance. “It’stiny,” he corrected.
I looked at him.Hmm. I guess he did make the space look small. Despite myself, I couldn’t help but notice how the fabric of hisArmanisuit slightly strained against his arms.
I stood there with my arms crossed over my chest while he continued to stroll through my apartment.
A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and he raised an eyebrow as if he’d stumbled upon something amusing onthe shelf containing my collection of snow globes and travel souvenirs.
Then his eyes swept from the overflowing shelves to the windows, which were bare of curtains. He shook his head with disappointment. “You live in the sketchiest part of the city—do you know that?” he remarked, peering out the window to scrutinize the view of the street below.
I didn’t. It wasn’t a sketchy neighborhood; Max was just a safe person. He’d live in a floating house if he could, I was sure of it. He was always so cautious.
