Chapter 5 - Maria
I can feel the heat rising in my cheeks as Max's eyes hold mine, that teasing glint still firmly in place. He opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, the bell above the shop door jingles, signaling a new customer.
I offer Max an apologetic smile and hold up a finger, "Hold that thought."
Turning, I greet the elderly woman who's just entered, recognizing her as a regular.
"Good morning, Mrs. Flores. How can I help you today?"
"Ah, Maria, my dear," she says warmly, shuffling over to the counter. "I just need a few more skeins of that lovely blue yarn, if you don't mind."
"Of course, not at all." I retrieve the requested items, carefully winding them into a neat bundle.
As I ring her up, I catch sight of Max out of the corner of my eye, leaning casually against the counter and observing our interaction.
Mrs. Flores glances his way, eyes twinkling with amusement.
"And who's this handsome young man, hmm? A new helper around the shop?"
I feel the flush in my cheeks deepen.
"Oh, no, Mrs. Flores. This is Max, he's, um—"
"The building's newest tenant," Max interjects smoothly, flashing the older woman a charming smile. "I'm renting out the storage room in the back to use as a workspace."
"Is that so?" Mrs. Flores hums, her gaze sweeping over Max in a way that makes me squirm slightly. "Well, isn't that interesting. And what sort of work do you do, young man?"
"I'm a tattoo artist, ma'am," Max replies, not missing a beat.
The older woman's eyebrows shoot up in obvious surprise, "A tattoo artist? My, my, how... intriguing."
I can practically see the innuendo dripping from her words, and I resist the urge to groan. Thankfully, Max seems unfazed, his easy confidence never wavering.
"Yes, ma'am. Been at it for quite a few years now." He pauses, flashing me a sidelong glance. "In fact, I just recently had the pleasure of inking a lovely little butterfly on Maria's wrist."
Mrs. Flores' gaze darts between the two of us, her expression positively gleeful.
"Is that so? Maria! I was here yesterday and you never mentioned getting a tattoo! How delightfully... misbehaved of you."
I want to sink through the floor. Of course Mrs. Flores would pick up on the implicit flirtation between Max and me. The woman has a sixth sense for that kind of thing.
"It was, um, a spur-of-the-moment decision," I mumble, clearing my throat awkwardly.
"Hmm, I see." Mrs. Flores accepts her bag of yarn, leveling Max with a pointed look. "Well, young man, I do hope you'll be a good influence on our Maria here. Heaven knows she could use a little more excitement in her life."
With that, she turns and shuffles toward the door, pausing to throw one last wink in our direction before exiting.
The moment she's gone, I let out a long, exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"Oh, god. I'm so sorry about that."
Max chuckles, the sound rumbling low in his chest.
"Ah, don't worry about it. Mrs. Flores seems like a real character."
I can't help but nod in agreement.
"That's one way to put it. She's a sweetheart, but definitely likes to... meddle a bit."
"I noticed." He grins, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"So, tell me - how did a woman like you end up owning a shop like this?"
I blink, caught off guard by the unexpected question, "A woman like me?"
Max gestures around the cozy storefront, "Yeah, you know - prim, proper, definitely not the type to get spontaneous tattoos." His gaze drifts to my wrist, where the delicate butterfly inked there is hidden by my sleeve. "At least, not until recently."
I can't help but laugh at his assessment.
"Fair point. Although I'll have you know, I'm not nearly as prim and proper as I may seem."
He arches a brow, a slow grin spreading across his face, "Oh? Do tell."
Shaking my head, I lean back against the counter.
"Well, the short version is that this place has been a dream of mine for a long time. Ever since I was a kid, actually." My expression softens with fond nostalgia. "My grandmother taught me how to sew and embroider when I was very young, and I just fell in love with it. The process, the creativity - it was like magic to me."
Max nods, his gaze attentive as he listens.
"But my parents..." I trail off, lips twisting into a rueful smile. "They weren't exactly thrilled when I told them I wanted to open a craft store instead of, you know, pursuing a more 'practical' career path."
"Let me guess - they wanted you to be a doctor, lawyer, or something equally stuffy and respectable?" Max interjects dryly.
I laugh.
"Exactly. They thought I was ridiculous, wasting my potential on something as trivial as running a little craft shop." Shrugging, I glance down at my hands. "It was a bit of a battle, to say the least. But in the end, I just couldn't let go of my dream. So, I saved up, took out a loan, and made it happen."
When I look back up, I'm surprised to find Max watching me, fully focused.
"What?" I ask self-consciously.
He shakes his head, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
"Nothing. I'm just... impressed, is all. Sounds like you've got some serious determination to make this place work, despite the odds."
I feel a flush creep up my neck, "Well, it's certainly been a challenge at times. But I wouldn't trade it for anything."
"I can tell." Max's gaze softens, a hint of admiration in his voice. "You must really love what you do."
"I really do," I affirm, a smile tugging at my lips. "It's been my passion for as long as I can remember."
Max nods, his expression thoughtful, "And your parents? They still give you a hard time about it?"
I sigh, running a hand through my hair.
"Not as much these days, thankfully. Although..." I trail off, huffing out a wry laugh. "My younger sister Luisa managed to 'one-up' me, so to speak." At Max's curious look, I elaborate. "She decided to pursue a career in photography instead of the 'respectable' path my parents had envisioned for her. Needless to say, that didn't go over too well."
I can't help but chuckle at the memory, "They were enraged. I think they were secretly hoping Luisa would talk some sense into me, but instead she just piled on more fuel to the fire."
Max laughs, shaking his head in amusement, "Sounds like your family's got a bit of a rebellious streak."
"You could say that," I agree with a rueful smile. "But at the end of the day, I'm just glad my sister and I have each other's backs. Even if it means driving our parents crazy in the process."
“That’s great. Guess I can say I’m lucky that my parents have always supported me. Although… I always feel like they liked me a bit more when I was in the military.”
Glancing up, I meet Max's gaze, a hint of curiosity rising within me.
"Interesting… So, what made you choose the path you're on?"
His expression shifts, a flicker of something unreadable passing over his features.
"The military or the tattoos, you mean?"
I nod, studying him intently.
"The military. I have to admit, you don't quite fit the mold of a 'typical' military man."
Max huffs out a laugh, the sound laced with a touch of bitterness.
"Yeah, well, I guess you could say I've got a bit of a rebellious streak of my own."
He pauses, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.
"Growing up, I was always a bit of a hell-raiser, you know? Didn't really have much direction or purpose. The military gave me that - a sense of discipline, structure, purpose."
Reaching up, he traces the intricate sleeve of tattoos decorating his arm, his gaze distant.
"And the tattoos? Well, that came a bit later. After I got out, I realized I needed something else, something creative to balance out all that structure and order." Glancing back at me, his lips curve into a wry smile, "Guess you could say I'm a bit of a walking contradiction."
I can't help but smile back, feeling an unexpected kinship with this intriguing man.
"I think that's what makes you interesting."