Max laughed and offered his arm to escort her. “If your standards are really that low, this might just work out after all.”
Lana linked her arm with his and let him lead her into the small eat-in kitchen that was connected to the living room. Painted the same off-white color, it made the transition seamless and the apartment seem bigger than it was.
“As you can see, this is the kitchen,” Max said as they walked around the peninsula separating the two rooms. “Better known as the place where all the microwavable magic happens.”
Lana laughed. “You’re kidding, right? You might have forgotten, but I’ve been close enough to those abs of yours to know you don’t eat junk food all the time.”
He gave her a heated look. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten how close you’ve been to my abs. But in this case, I’m being completely honest.”
Before Lana could call him on the obvious lie, he walked over and opened a couple of the upper cabinet doors, revealing an endless collection of chips, pretzels, cookies, boxed dinners, and canned food—of the non-fruit and -veggie variety. But on the bright side, he was obviously getting his protein, since it looked like he had enough peanut butter to feed an army. It appeared to be his favorite food.
“Not a big fan of fruits and veggies, huh?”
He looked hurt. “I looked it up, and corn can be considered either a fruit or a vegetable, depending on who you ask. So, as you can see, I have bags and bags of fruits and veggies.”
Lana raised up on her toes to get a better look. “Those are Fritos.”
“Which are made of corn,” he said smugly. “So I’m covered.”
“I stand corrected,” she agreed, since he obviously already had this all thought out. “At least you don’t have pizza boxes stacked up to the ceiling.”
Max grinned and opened the fridge, displaying four Pizza Hut boxes stuffed in there so tightly Lana wasn’t sure if they’d ever come out.
“I prefer my pizza cold,” he said.
She threw up her arms in surrender. “Of course you do.”
“While we’re talking about food, have you eaten yet?” he asked. “I’m sure I can find something to your vegetarian tastes, even in my limited pantry.”
His offer reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since lunch and definitely could, even if it meant breaking into one of his cardboard-box dinners.
“I wouldn’t mind eating, but after you’ve finished showing me around,” she told him.
“That should only take another five minutes.”
With that, Max led her out of the kitchen and back into the living room. They slowed long enough for her to take in the monster-sized TV and video game station, which in her experience was mandatory for all single guys. But he also seemed to have what looked to be a pretty good selection of DVD and Blu-ray movies in a bookcase off to the side.
From there, they walked down a short hallway with a bathroom on the right, a larger-than-average bedroom on the left, and a nice walk-in closet in the middle. Max might have a bachelor TV and game station out in the living room, but his bedroom was surprisingly nicely decorated, painted in subdued tones of olive green and earthy brown. Even the blankets on the bed had a warm tan hue that went perfectly with everything else. Along with the casual furniture, the colors made for a relaxing ambience. She couldn’t help noticing that his bed, with its thick comforter and plump, fluffy pillows, was big enough to wrestle on—at least the kind of wrestling she had in mind.
Lana quickly forced her thoughts in a different direction. If she didn’t, it was possible they might not make it out of this room for a while.
As they turned to head back into the living room, a framed photo on the tall dresser caught her attention. In it, a teenage boy who looked a lot like Max had his arm around the shoulders of a younger girl with the same dark hair and charming smile.
“Is that you in this picture or your brother?” she asked, sure it had to be Max even though the boy in the photo was so much smaller than he was.
Max grinned. “That’s me. And I know what you’re thinking, but I was only seventeen in that picture and just starting my growth spurt.”
“Is the girl your sister?” she asked softly, remembering what he’d said the other night about his family not getting out of the crappy place where they used to live.
The smile disappeared, his face turning serious. “Yeah, that’s Sarah. She’s thirteen in this picture. It’s the last photo I have of her. She died a little while after her fourteenth birthday.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “What happened?”
The question was out of her mouth before she could stop it, but the moment she saw the pain in his eyes, she realized she should never have gone there.
She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I’m not pushing or anything.”
“I know.” His mouth curved into a sad smile. “It’s just that I’ve gone out of my way to avoid talking about the subject for so long, hoping the memories would go away, that it’s hard to open up about it. But after the day I’ve had, maybe it’s better if I finally do. And if I’m going to tell anyone the details about what happened to my sister—to my family—I want it to be you.”
