And Mo, true best friend that she is, has fielded them all.
“The infamous Maxwell Cruz,” she teases as I shrink in my chair.
Did I saybestfriend?
“Just Max is fine.” His eyebrows creep up slowly as he shakes her hand and looks at me, then mouths, “Infamous?”
I roll my eyes. “Well, it’s been nice to bump into you, but I’m sure you have someone waiting for you…” I make a show of craning my neck to look around him, scanning the tables and the few people lingering near the entrance. No one watches us expectantly, waiting for Max to return to them.
“Actually,” he says, pausing until my eyes return to his. “The timing couldn’t be better. I’ve just finished my meeting.”
The older couple sitting beside me takes notice—probably because Max’s overbearing presence is impossible to miss—andthe woman smiles apologetically, then hurries to get up from her barstool. “I’m so sorry,” she says, looking back and forth between Max and me. “We’ve already paid our bill and here we are just chatting away, taking up space.”
“No, no, it’s okay—”
Ignoring me completely, she looks at Max and motions toward her chair. “Please, sit.” She searches his face like she’s trying to figure out how she knows him.
That’s the thing about Max Cruz; even if you don’t follow sports, you know he’ssomeone. He justlooksfamous.
It’s probably all that arrogance he wears like a custom-tailored Armani suit. Which he also happens to be wearing, because the man apparently hasn’t heard of casual Friday.
The Universe is cruel, always showing me how well Max Cruz wears a suit.
Giving up her game ofguess the celebrity, the woman finally looks at me. “Your boyfriend can have my seat, honey.”
I nearly choke on my own saliva, quickly shaking my head. “Oh no, he’s not myboyfriend. We aren’t…” Shaking my head again just to be sure there’s no confusion, I implore the woman with my eyes to stay, save me,help, but she doesn’t catch on, smiling kindly as she leaves the bar with her husband, leaving me to fend for myself against a formidable opponent.
He could be a serial killer for all she knows!
My best friend giggles, clearly getting a kick out of my obvious discomfort.
A lot of help she is.
Max grins as he motions toward the open seat. “What luck, huh?”
“Yeah,” I agree, “superlucky.”
As he settles in beside me, I spin slowly to face Mo, glaring at her because she did absolutely nothing to stop this invasion.
She responds to my obvious annoyance with a slow, calculating smile—
And my heart drops.
Something nefarious this way comes.
“No,” I mouth.
She bites down into her bottom lip as her eyes narrow.Oh no.I know that look.
“Don’t you dare,” I whisper.
“Well! Would you look at the time? I forgot I have a… a meeting.”
“A meeting,” I repeat, deadpan.
“Yep!”
“Imogen.”
