Sugar Rush (Friend-Zoned #3)(42)
Author: Belle Aurora

It won’t be easy, but I have to try. I hate to see her so miserable, and I don’t like seeing normally happy Max so sad. He annoys me, but I don’t want him unhappy. Being happy is in his nature. To take away something from a person that is a natural reaction is cruel. As much as I want Ceecee healthy, I want Max content.

I slip out of my work clothes and make my way to the bathroom, and just as I switch on the bathroom light, I lean down and hiss at Tedwood a split second before he gets to me. He scrambles in the opposite direction and I chuckle quietly. He’s not such a bad cat once you get to know him. A little broody, sure, but a complete coward.

Just as I place one foot into the warm spray of the shower, claws and teeth attach themselves to my leg. “Motherfucker!” I shake my leg in the air, Tedwood firmly attached, and yell, “Stop being an asshole, asshole!”

Why won’t this day end already?

Chapter Nineteen

Helena

How great are showers? Not only are they a pretty decent way to wash off stank, they’re also relaxing as heck. I spend a good half-hour letting the borderline boiling water wash away the day’s frustration. For some time, I simply stand under the spray and bask in the feeling of being submersed in my own little bubble of tranquility.

Today not being a hair-washing day, I turn off the shower and step out. With the bathroom door wide open, I towel myself off before slipping on a white t-shirt bra and light blue boy-leg panties. Just as I’m about to step out of the door, a loud crash sounds in the kitchen.

I jump as the crash reverberates through my ears, but quickly sigh, “Teddy. Goddamn it, cat!” My feet are dragged from the bathroom to the hall. I squeak, then squawk, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Max doesn’t look up. Instead, he finishes plating up steak, potatoes, and salad onto plates. “Don’t you use that tone with me, cupcake. Here I am slaving away over a hot stove all afternoon so we can eat together, and you stiff me. So I bring you dinner after a long day’s work, and you use that tone?” He straightens, then tuts, “Working girls.”

His eyes move to mine, widen, and then slide over my body. I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think he drools a little. When his stunned expression is replaced by a leisurely grin, dimple flashing, he drawls, “I wasn’t expecting dinner and a show.”

That’s when I’m reminded I’m standing in the hall in my underwear. Not even my good underwear, but my Helena’s-sleeping-alone-again underwear. My mouth wants to gape, but I stop myself. Instead, I decide to play it cool. Heart racing, I fake poise and murmur, “I’m going to change.”

Max grins harder, placing a hand to his chest. “Please, don’t dress on my behalf.” I walk to my room, acting as normal as possible, but cringe when he calls out from behind me, “I like your undies. They’re not the usual type I see women wear. They say, ‘I’m cool and I don’t care what you think’. That’s cool. I mean—”

I can’t take his incessant rambling right now. “Max, shut up!” I shriek.

His booming laughter fills my kitchen, and although I could die from embarrassment, I like the sound of his unrestrained hilarity. My lips twitch when I realize he baited me…and I fell for it. I mutter under my breath, “Ass.”

I quickly change into black yoga pants and a large, loose yellow tee and join him in the kitchen. He’s already placed the plates and cutlery down on opposite sides of my small dining table. It smells amazing, but we’ll be sitting so close together our knees will touch. It seems far too intimate.

My favorite yellow vase lies in the sink in pieces, and I’m reminded of the crash I heard. I narrow my gaze at Max. His eyes dart from side to side, clearly panicked. He suddenly blurts out, “Someone broke that.”

Standing a foot away from the table, my body slumps in restlessness. “Why are you doing this?”

Without skipping a beat, he walks around the breakfast bar with two glasses of soda, and answers, “Because I like you, and I want you to like me too.”

That statement does something to me. My stomach clenches. Heat blooms in my middle.

If you only knew how much I liked you…

“I do like you,” I answer weakly and unconvincingly.

He stills mid-step and grins. “No. You don’t,” he throws me a wink, “but I’m working on that.”

Oh man, you aren’t the sharpest tool in the shed, are you, Max?

He pulls my chair out and motions for me to sit. I hesitate a moment before allowing his assistance. He gently pushes my chair in like a gentleman, then sits himself down opposite me. I look down at my heaped plate, and then look up at him. He shoots me a panty-dropping smile and a sudden thought rushes through my mind:

I could get used to looking up at that smile.

He works on cutting a piece of steak, and by how quickly he does it, I know it’s butter soft. He lifts his fork to his mouth, but holds it mid-air. “Why don’t you like me again?”

I sigh exaggeratingly long. Can’t we move past this already? “We’ve been through this before, Max. I like you fine.”

He smiles, chews, and then swallows. “You don’t treat me like you treat Nik, Ash, or Trick. You treat me different.”

That’s ‘cause you’re so gorgeous you literally make my eyes water.

I pick at my food and mumble, “I never really noticed. Sorry.” Desperate to change the subject, I ask, “Where is Ceecee tonight?”

Max chews his food carefully. When he swallows, his eyes meet mine. So much sadness there. “She’s at my mom’s. She wanted to sleep over there tonight, and she wants to sleep at Nik’s tomorrow. The next day, she’ll tell me she wants to stay at Mom’s again. I just…” He shrugs, helpless.

“She’s avoiding you.” A statement. A sad one.

His low voice stabs me directly in the heart. “She doesn’t like me much right now.”

As I cut into my steak—my butter soft steak, damn him—he starts, “I know I haven’t given you much of a choice with training Ceecee, but I meant what I said. I would do anything for her. I don’t mind stepping on toes to do that. She’s my everything, ya know?”

I take a moment to digest those words.

Would I do the same for my own children? Absolutely.

His eyes meet mine. I watch him closely a moment before I smile. “I know. Besides, I actually found some things I think might suit her.” I lift the fork to my mouth. The moment the steak hits my tongue, I groan. “Oh my God, this is awesome.” I moan and groan some more before asking, “What did you use to marinade this?”