“You're so kind. Thank you.” I shiver, my wet clothes clinging to my body.
“You need a change of clothes,” Max says as he takes his jacket off and pulls it around my shoulders, just as he did on the palace balcony that time. It’s warm and smells of him, and my heart squeezes.
“Come on. Let's get going.” He turns to Prunella. “Thank you for your help. Prue. Send my best to Isaac and the kids.”
“I will, sir,” she replies with a smile.
We make our way back outside, and the rain seems to be easing.
“Why don’t you get a change of clothes? You’re a drowned rat.”
I give a shiver, right on cue. “Good idea.”
Like the gentleman he is, Max walks me to the back of the car, holding the umbrella above our heads, where I collect some dry clothes from my suitcase.
“Here, take this.” He offers me his umbrella. “Go back into the station to get changed, and I’ll wait in the car.”
I dart up the steps back inside, find the Ladies’, and then hurriedly peel my damp clothes off. It's never easy putting dry clothes on when your skin is damp, and I wrestle with my jeans, jumping up and down in the stall, before I finally button them up. Then, I pull the dry T-shirtover my head. My hair is damp, so I smooth it back into its ponytail as best I can.
I’m not exactly Instagram-ready, but it’ll have to do.
Climbing into the car, I offer Max something from my suitcase.
He eyes it dubiously. “Why are you giving me a pink sweater?”
“Because it’s a bit and baggy on me and might be the right size for you.”
He seems to think it over for a moment before he reaches behind his head and in one swift move, he removed his top to reveal his impressive torso.
As much as my instinct is to gawk at this total Adonis at my side, I pull my gaze away as he pulls the sweater on.
“How do I look?” he asks, and I turn to see what is ordinarily a super baggy and comfy sweater on me, straining across his broad shoulders and sculpted pecs.
I bite back a smile. “You look so pretty.”
He mimes sweeping his hair from his shoulder. “That’s the look I’m aiming for.”
“Well, you nailed it.”
“At least it’s dry.”
“Dry and pretty,” I correct, and he lets out a low laugh as Toffee climbs back onto my lap, and we begin to head south along the winding, narrow, mountainous road through the drumming rain.
“You’re so kind to do this for me, Max,” I say as the small town gives way to trees.
“I'm not exactly going to leave you to wait for a train that's unlikely to come for two days,” he replies. “And besides, with this rain, there’ll be twenty-odd kids stuck inside back at the house. I’d much rather be here.”
He's only being nice. He would prefer to be working on his passion project withhis friends rather than traipsing me halfway across the country, the woman who rejected him only last night.
But the fact of the matter remains: he's here with me now, stuck in this car, going out of his way to take me to my grandmother, and it’s hard not to let that work its way into my heart.
Max reaches for the radio dial. “Would you mind if I put some music on?”
“Sure.”
His arm brushes against mine as he adjusts the volume, and I suck in a breath. The small space of the car seems to amplify everything between us.
Soft music fills the space, a Taylor Swift song I recognize about being in love.
