I scan the crowd and stop when I see him standing there, a bouquet of flowers in his hand. A smile fills my face.
“Clint, what are you doing here?” I ask, in surprise.
He smiles as he jogs toward us. When he reaches me, he pulls me into a hug and kisses my cheek.
“You gave me your flight number and told me you were planning on grabbing a ride share home. I thought I would surprise you and take you myself.” His eyes drift to Max. “Maybe I shouldn’t have though…”
“No, no, no. I appreciate it. Actually it’s extremely thoughtful,” I tell him.
Clint is such a good guy. I never actually asked why he and his girl didn’t make it. I have to assume something is wrong with her because he is a catch.
He’s not Max, though.
Max.
I feel the annoyance pulsing off of the man in question standing next to me.
“Oh shit, let me introduce you two. Max, this is Clint, I’ve been seeing him when we are home. Clint, this is my best friend and boss, Max.”
Recognition crosses Clint’s face. Clint reaches out to shake Max’s hand and stops when he remembers he’s holding a bouquet of flowers.
“Shit, I’m screwing this up. These are for you.” He hands them to me and then holds his hand out for Max.
For a moment, Max hesitates to shake his hand, and it makes my stomach drop.
Please don’t do this.
Please, please, please, I silently plead.
Max takes a deep breath and shakes his hand, making me relax.
“It’s great to meet you. I believe I saw you with Iris the night we met.” Clint tells him.
“Yeah. At the bar, right? I didn’t realize you could still pick up dates there,” Max mutters.
Internally I cringe when he jerks his hand back and shoves it in his pocket.
“Thank you for the flowers,” I blurt out.
I bring them up to my nose and smell them. They might be ugly, but at least they smell good.
It’s the thought that counts. Clint doesn’t know that I hate yellow flowers. He was just trying to do something sweet.
Clint smiles and turns back to me. “You’re welcome. So would you like that ride?”
“I’m her ride,” Max says heatedly, catching me off guard.
What in the fuck? What the hell has gotten into him? If I didn’t know better, I would say he sounds possessive.
“Oh,” Clint says, sounding rejected.
“Actually, Clint, I would love for you to take me home. Maybe we could stop for lunch along the way and catch up?” I ask.
Clint lights up. “That’s a great idea.”
“Good.” I smile. I turn to Max. “Would you mind taking my bags home for me?”
“Home?” Clint asks, sounding confused.
