Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 709(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 709(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 473(@300wpm)
Sean stilled. His smile faded. “Clients only come once a month?”
Max shrugged. “Yeah. Most.”
“Do any come more often?”
“Sure. Some do… But not that many.”
“How often?”
Max grew more uneasy. He could see where this was going. “Some once a week. Others twice a month.”
Sean stared at him intently. “I’d like once a week, too.”
Max’s heart sped up. Which wasn’t a good sign. Meant a very big part of him was pretty stoked with this arrangement. When it should be apprehensive like the rest of him. God. He had a really bad feeling about this.
“Alright.” He nodded. “Next Tuesday it is.”
Sean beamed.
Max chuckled. “Stop doing that.”
“Stop doing what?”
“Smiling.” He nudged Sean’s shoulder. “Get up. It’s late. Time to get the fuck out.”
Sean groaned and sat up. “Fine. What do I owe you?”
Max stood, turned away, rubbed his face, then exhaled. “Nothing. I’ll start you a tab.”
* * * * *
After seeing Sean out, Max headed to the kitchen. He’d heard Scott rummaging through the fridge when they came up, and was pretty sure the guy was still in there. Scott was like clockwork, after all. Workout with his buddies, then workout with the blender, mixing up a protein shake for his muscles. He made some mean ones, too. Made them all the time for Max. Key lime pie, papaya ginger, mango blueberry, white chocolate raspberry. Max’s favorite, though, was orange creamsicle. Talk about heaven on the tongue.
He walked through the doorway, and sure enough, Scott was by the sink mixing up magic.
“Which kind you making?”
Scott glanced over his shoulder. “A new one.” He smiled. “Mango Lassie. It’s got your name written all over it.”
Max came to a stop on the other side of the island. “My name? Why’s that?”
“’Cause the recipe says it’s Native American inspired.” Scott wagged his brows and turned back around. Dropped some mango chunks into the mixer. Then some pistachios. Max watched them disappear into a hodgepodge of other ingredients. What looked like possibly yogurt and… maple syrup?
Max settled onto a stool and kind of sort of smiled. “Seriously?”
Scott nodded and squeezed in some lemon juice. “Yup. Makes me think of your mom. How’s she doing, by the way? When’s the last time you saw her?”
Max’s smile faded. “A couple months ago. I’m sure she’s fine.”
The blender roared to life. A second later, Scott shut it back off. Turning around, he frowned at Max, then leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “A couple months? Wow, Max. Lame.”
Max scowled. “I’ve been busy.”
“No excuse. She’s your mom. You’re all she’s fucking got.”
Max looked down at his hands. Let his shoulders slump. Sighed. “I know. It’s just… Every time I call her, she asks me to come visit.”
“And? Big deal. She misses you. So what.”
Max shot him a cool look. “You know so what.”
Scott eyed him back. Then pursed his lips. Because, yeah, he knew what Max was talking about. Max knew he did. Scott had done the math ages ago. Noticing that whenever Max went to see his mom, he always came back not right. For weeks. Until he finally shook his newest cling-on demons. The phantoms of Kevin’s memory that always hitched a ride back with him. Yeah, Scott knew. He wasn’t stupid. That place had too many memories. Too many ghosts. Too many everything.
“Invite her to come here then.”
Max shrugged. “Yeah. I will.”
So she can cart the shit to Max’s house instead. Because, tragically, Max’s mom was irrevocably connected. When Max saw her face, he saw home, he saw Kevin. Which made her a trigger he subconsciously avoided. It wasn’t fair to her. He knew it. It was bullshit. Always made him feel like a bastard. But his self-preservation instincts ruled supreme. His stomach turned sickly with guilt. And shame.
Time to change the subject.
Max gave a small chin lift. “So Friday. How’d it go? Doing that favor for your clients.”
Scott’s posture eased. Then he smiled with a shrug. “Went fine. Was fun. The guy was a trip.”
Max lifted a brow. “Yeah? He didn’t take off screaming?”
Scott chuckled. Shook his head. “No. He was cool. Definitely nervous. But by the end, I’m pretty sure he enjoyed himself.” An interesting expression flittered over his face.
Max eyed him curiously. He’d never seen that look before. “Huh. That’s cool. Think he’ll be back?”
Scott shifted against the counter. Shrugged again and scratched his cheek. “I dunno. I mean, it’s not like I offer that service regularly.” He shot Max a look. One that felt suspiciously reticent. “And you’re all booked up, right? No openings?”
Max nodded slowly, studying Scott’s demeanor. The guy was firing the strangest-feeling vibe. “Yup. All booked.” His lips curved wryly. “Looks like you’d have to take him on yourself.”
Scott chuckled again. “Nope. Not opening that can of worms.”
Max smirked, but before he could razz Scott further, his friend shrewdly turned the fucking tables.