Chapter Eighteen
Sutton
We’re deep into the third quarter, waiting for the next round of drinks, when my stomach growls angrily enough for Max to hear.
He looks at me pointedly. “You trying to tell me somethin’?”
I laugh, then rub my hand over my stomach. “I don’t think I’ve eaten since…” I grimace. “Whoops. Breakfast.”
All mirth leaves his eyes as he glances at his watch. “It’s nearly eight-thirty.”
I shrug. “I forgot.”
“Sutton.”
My eyes lift to meet his at the sound of that firm tone.
“You need to eat.” He drops a couple twenties on the counter, then grabs our beers. “We have a whole spread upstairs…” His words trail off at the look on my face. “You don’t want that?”
“I’m at a ball game. I want hot dogs and greasy nachos, not caviar and oysters.”
He licks his lips as they pull into a slow smile, looking at me like I just told him I have no panties on beneath my jeans.
My cheeks heat, but I have no idea why he’s looking at me like that. “What?”
“You’re just full of surprises, that’s all.” He hands me my beer, then quickly says, “Don’t chug that one until I get some food in you.”
“Yes, Sir.”
His nostrils flare as he holds my gaze until I finally break the trance he has on me and start to head off in search of food.
“They don’t serve us caviar and oysters, by the way,” he says, catching up to me because each of his strides swallow mine up with ease. “Chicken wings, pasta salads… no caviar.”
“Not as fancy as you thought you were, huh?” I look over at him and wink, then quickly look away.
The banter between us shouldn’t be easy. I shouldn’t be so damn relieved that he’s here. That on this day of all days it’s his presence that makes the grief a little lighter.
Just seeing Max in the club level above was enough to ease the tension from my shoulders.
And on a night where I’m trying to forget, surrounding myself with high energy and hundreds of strangers so my mind will be distracted about what today actually signifies, Max showing up felt like a gift from the universe.
“So, what are you doing here?” Max asks as we pass a bar, then an ice cream cart, pulling me out of my thoughts and reminding me that we’re closing in on some delicious, greasy food. “I’ve never seen you at a Bruins game.”
I open my denim jacket to reveal the red cropped t-shirt beneath and his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.
“You’re a Hoosier?” He whispers the word like he’s speaking of Voldemort, then whistles lowly and shakes his head. “Ballsy move, my friend. Ballsy, ballsy move.”
I laugh. “Why do you think I haven’t taken off my jacket?”
“I’m guessing it’s because you don’t feel like getting into a fist fight,” he jokes.
My stomach growls again angrily, and I rub my hand over it. Chugging IPA on an empty stomach probably wasn’t the smartest move I’ve ever made, but if I get some food soon, I should be okay.
We find a hot dog vendor, and get in line, quiet as we wait our turn, though even without any words, Max’s presence is loud.
His gaze rarely leaves me, his attention so intense I find it hard not to fidget.
When we reach the cashier, I’m so pent up that I blurt out my order, then have to quickly apologize.
“Sorry, wow, um…” I close my eyes, then wave my hand in the air as nonchalantly as possible.
“A little too much to drink,” I say, in hopes that’s enough explanation.
In truth, I’m on edge and nervous under Max’s heavy attention.
“I’d like a hot dog, please,” I try again, “with nachos and two sides of jalapeno cheese.”
Max places his order next, then pays for the food and joins me off to the side to wait for our meals.
“You’re jumpy.”
“No thanks to you,” I murmur under my breath.
“How so?”
“You’re making me nervous,” I admit, the alcohol making me bold.
“Hm.” Max watches me quietly for a moment. “How am I making you nervous?”
“You won’t stop staring.”
Max smirks, then leans his hips back against a railing. “I like looking at you.”
Heat floods my cheeks, but I cross my arms and look up at him. “Well, I don’t like it.”
His smirk pulls into a grin, releasing those infuriating dimples. “This again?”
“What?”
He reaches for me, slipping a finger through the loop of my jeans and tugging me forward before I’ve realized he’s moved.
He spins, trapping me against the railing with one big arm on either side of me.
“This, Ms. Hart, is when I tell you that you say one thing, but your body tells me something else altogether. Ready?”
I pull in a shaky breath, then nod.
Because I’m obviously drunk. Too drunk for cognitive thought.
“Your eyes haven’t left me either. Honestly, they rarely do.
You watch me when you think I don’t notice, but you’re wrong because I notice everything when it comes to you.
You try to look elsewhere, try to focus on anything else, but those gorgeous eyes return to me every time.
Tell me about the last three plays on that field, Ms. Hart. ”
I frown, trying to remember any play since Max showed up.
When I don’t say anything, he continues, that sexy smirk returning to make my stomach flutter nervously.
“You push me away with your smart mouth and that standoffish attitude, but we both know it’s an act.
We both know you tell yourself you hate me when what you actually hate is how very wrong you are.
You dream about kissing me. About giving in to the attraction just long enough to get me out of your system so you can think clearly again.
But that won’t work. I’ll never be out of your system…
and you hate that, too.” His eyes search mine. “Ask me how I know.”
My heart stumbles over itself.
“You hate that no matter what you tell me, what you tell yourself, all you want to do is look at me, touch me, get closer to me… and I get that, I really do. Wanting someone so badly you ache for them is torture. Ask. Me. How. I. Know.”
I swallow hard, then give my head a subtle shake.
“Fine.” He licks his lips and my eyes fall to track the movement.
“I know because you absolutely consume me, Sutton. You’re all I think about.
I look for you in every stadium, every restaurant, every downtown bar.
” His gaze flicks back and forth between my eyes.
“Every meeting I walk into I hope you’ll be there so I can get a few moments with you even though you’re probably just going to push me away again.
I’ll take that rejection any damn day of the week over not seeing you at all. ”
I suck in a breath. My stomach does that ridiculous swooping thing again and my heart just ricochets around in my chest like it’s lost all tethers that used to keep it in place.
“You wonder what it might be like if you just said yes. If you just gave in and let yourself discover what it feels like to be kissed by a man that wants you so badly, you’re all he thinks about.”
I shake my head because I don’t want that. I can’t want that. I’ve been there done that with Maxwell Cruz and all that came of our night together was heartbreak.
And a very expensive cab ride back to my hotel.
He licks his lips and my eyes fall to his mouth like they always seem wont to do.
He leans forward.
I wet my lips—
“Sutton.”
“Hm?”
“My eyes are up here.”
I gasp and look up into his eyes, smoldering depths of brown so dark it's nearly pitch-black.
He flashes a satisfied grin, knocking me senseless with those dimples. “Our food’s ready.” He pushes off the railing to grab our orders, leaving me properly flummoxed—and probably as red as the Indiana shirt I’m hiding beneath my jacket.