15. Chapter 15 #2
“Thanks again, Max. Really.” I swiped frizzy curls out of my face semi-successfully. “I owe you big time.”
He waved dismissively. “You didn’t accept payment from your friend for the whole donkey thing, so we’re good.”
I snorted my typical piggy snort. “You’re right—I demanded payment. In the form of lasagna, in fact.”
He let out a low whistle. “That’s the way to do it right there.”
“In that case, you’re officially invited to dinner. Whenever Hattie pays up, that is.”
“Deal.” He grinned, and I could feel my heart tightening the straps on its parachute.
Uh-oh. If he stuck around any longer, I’d be a goner.
And how couldn’t I? Max was the type of guy who deserved whole-hearted devotion and would earn it without trying to.
Even when he’d explicitly said he wasn’t looking to date anyone, my foolish sucker of a heart would chase him anyway—jump out of the plane anyway, if only I’d let it.
Which I most certainly would not .
“Quincy will be here soon, so you’re free to go,” I blurted. “Go enjoy the rest of your Saturday. I can manage for the next few minutes.”
Max arched an eyebrow but untied his apron.
Sweet mangos and salsa , if there was anything hotter than Max Fuentes in an apron, it was Max Fuentes taking off an apron.
Wowee zowee. His deft fingers sent the ties flying with a single flick.
Smooth and effortless. Which I maybe could’ve handled witnessing without fantasizing about what else his hands could undo so easily, had he not looked me directly in the eye when he did it.
And then maintained eye contact the entire time he pulled the apron up, up, up and over his head. Slowly.
Too slowly.
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re doing that on purpose.”
His grin widened as a devilish gleam shone in his dark eyes. “Doing what on purpose?”
I squinted harder until his smug, smokin’ hot mug all but disappeared behind the wispy screen of my eyelashes.
I wasn’t going to elaborate out loud for fear I’d misinterpreted things— and he knew it .
The scoundrel. Besides, what would I even say?
You’re deliberately giving me a strip tease with an apron while fully clothed ?
Yeah, no. Normal people didn’t drool over someone de-aproning. Probably. Technically, I didn’t know, since this sort of thing had never come up in casual conversation, but it felt like an educated guess.
I whirled around with as much dignity as possible, which consisted of a lot of hopping and gripping tabletops for dear life. But whatever.
His laughter followed me, warming my insides like someone had poured hot cocoa into my bloodstream. So far, he didn’t seem to mind my topic-hopping or impulsivity or all the things that frustrated so many people. I wasn’t sure when his amusement would wear off, but I’d enjoy it while it lasted.
He headed for the door but hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. Not that I was watching, mind you. His shoulders moved with a deep inhale before he looked over at me. “You’re really good at this, you know.”
I blinked. “Good at what?”
“Baking.” He gestured to encompass the entire building. “But more than that. You’re good at running a bakery. Finding creative solutions and working hard to see them through. When you’re here you’re… different.”
My breath caught in my throat. By now, I was certain he didn’t know I’d had a bakery, let alone what had happened to send me here with my tail between my legs. But the reminder of the catastrophe made me ready to bolt regardless.
Not like I’d get anywhere in my condition, but still.
“Different how?” I asked, unsure I wanted to hear the answer.
He shrugged. “More at ease, I guess. Sure of yourself.”
I smiled sadly. I used to be sure, anyway. I didn’t doubt my baking abilities, but everything else? It felt like there were a million ways I could’ve handled things better while running things here and in Pittsburgh, if only I’d figure them out.
“They agree, too, you know.” He nodded toward the doors leading to the front of house. “They respect you. And I think they’re also wondering what in the world you’re doing here working for someone else.”
My smile fell. If everyone knew what had happened—how badly I’d failed—would they still think the same? It was better this way. For everyone.
He held his hand up in a placating gesture. “I know it’s a sensitive topic for some reason but figured you should know. And, hey, you managed to keep me from burning anything too badly, so that’s proof in and of itself.”
His smile returned, playfulness peeking through in his dimples and the curve of his lips. Max smiled readily, but that didn’t decrease the value. Each of his smiles told a story—one I wanted to devour in every sense of the word.
He knocked twice on the door as he opened it, casting me one last look over his shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”
I chuckled and returned our signature knock using the prep table I leaned on. “I hope not, for your sake.”
And mine.
If one day with him without thinking we were enemies had such an effect on me, I feared how quickly Max would become a delicacy I couldn’t get enough of.