Joy Ride

It’s fierce and fiery, with claws as sharp as she needs them to be. But today, those claws have retracted, and I’ve seen another side to her. A side I almost wish I didn’t know existed, since I have no clue what to do about it.

I drag my fingers roughly through my hair, as if that will shake off these foreign feelings. Then I stop. I just fucking stop the weird staring at her.

Because . . . I’m not that creepy.

My stomach rumbles. I head to the kitchen, slap together a quick sandwich, and chow down. Then I hang out with my laptop, sketching plans for the car as the sun dips lower in the sky, then lower still, till the flaming peach rays of the sunset flare across the horizon.

Henley stirs and flips to her side, her arm dangling off the couch. But her eyes don’t open. I bury myself in work for another hour until I hear her voice.

“Did you kidnap me?”

I look up from the screen to find her sitting up and stretching on the couch. “‘Nap’ being the operative word. Wait—it’s more like a sleep coma you’ve been in.”

She rubs her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Just past seven.”

She blinks. “Seriously?”

I nod. “You’ve been out of it for five hours. I would have brought you to your place, but you were dead to the world, and I didn’t know the address.”

She exhales deeply as she looks around my pad, taking in the huge windows and the vast space. “This is like a palace.”

I smile. “Thanks. I like it here. How are you feeling?”

She stretches her neck from side to side, inhales deeply, and nods. “Worlds better. Thank you.”

“Can I get you anything?”

She yawns again, covering her mouth. Then she says, “Any chance you have an extra toothbrush? I need to brush my teeth.”

“I do,” I say, then show her the bathroom. I grab a toothbrush from a drawer, popping it out of the pack.

“Is that so you have extra for women?”

“No. It’s so I have extra for me. I happen to be quite aggressive with toothbrushes. I go through one a week.”

Her eyebrows rise. “You’re a toothbrush abuser?”

I nod. “I am and I’m not afraid to admit it. The dentist says I need to tone it down, but I prefer to think of myself as a power user. I brush often and vigorously, and I’ve invested in toothbrush stock.”

She bounces as if this makes her outrageously happy. “I love to go wild on toothbrushes, too.” She checks out her reflection in the mirror, and her jaw drops. She spins around.

“Max,” she whispers in awe as she stares at a particular bathroom fixture.

“What is it?”

She points then walks as if in a trance to the tub. She falls to her knees and hugs the rim. “You have a claw-foot tub. Marry me now.”

I crack up. “How about tomorrow morning? City Hall is nearby, but it’s closed for the night.”

She frowns. “Do you have any idea how small my shower is?”

I shake my head. “No. Tell me how small it is.”

“It’s the size of a high school gym locker.” She strokes the edge of the white marble tub. “This feels incredible. A claw-foot tub is pretty much the greatest thing in the world. And you want to know the worst part?” She stands and marches over to me, narrowing her eyes. “It’s wasted on you.”

I furrow my brow. “Why would you say that?”

She flings her arm out at the tub. “It’s beautiful and perfect and pristine.”

I laugh again. “I like to keep my home clean.”

“You probably never even use it.”

That’s when I laugh the hardest. I raise an eyebrow. “Surprise. I use it plenty.”

She cocks her head to the separate shower stall. It’s much larger than a locker. It’s the size of most bathrooms. “You have a ginormous shower and a claw-foot tub, and you use the tub?” Her eyes bug out.

“Not all the time. But yeah, I do use it.”

She points at me, swiveling her finger. “You? You like to soak in the tub?”

I nod proudly. “Bubble bath. Bath bombs. The whole nine yards, tiger.” I’m not the least bit embarrassed to admit this to her, maybe because she’s slept on my chest, and my shoulder, and my couch.

She shakes her head like this doesn’t compute. “I’ve never known a man to like baths.”

I shrug. “Guess you don’t know this man.”

A smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “Guess I don’t.”

I reach into the medicine cabinet and hand her some minty Crest, then leave her alone.

When she emerges a few minutes later, she makes a declaration.





18





Henley’s To-Do List



* * *



—Tell him your fish theory.



* * *



—Say thank-you profusely because, holy moly, I was a mess on the ferry!



* * *



—Ask Olivia what the hell this means. My bestie always knows this stuff.



* * *



—Find a way to steal Max’s tub.



* * *



—Idea: slip him some Dramamine and spend the night in the tub?



* * *



—Bad idea. Keep your eye on the ball. This is your big chance.



* * *



—Don’t blow it.





19





“Fish scent.”

I arch a brow as she stands at the dining room table, an aha look on her face.

“Feel free to elaborate so that your random declaration makes sense.”

“They use the scent of a fish. Penn and Teller.” She paces around the table, a eureka sort of excitement radiating off her. “Think about it. Perfume makers can bottle any sort of scent, from roses to peach to lilies to disgusting scents like ash or smoke. Why not the scent of a fish? Maybe the magicians use a fake fish, but it seems totally real because—well, let’s be honest, anything can be made to look real.”

I nod. “Sure. Hollywood. CGI. I’m with you,” I say, because of course I’ve considered the fake fish idea before.

“But fish has a very noticeable smell. If they want the fish to appear real, it has to smell real, too. That would seem to be the sticking point. But scents can be manufactured, too. What if they made a fishy smell?”

A grin spreads across my face. “That’s kind of brilliant.”

She winks. “I’m good at figuring things out.” She grabs a chair next to me, sets her hands on the table, and clears her throat. “Max, thank you. Seriously. Thank you for taking care of me today. I had no idea I was going to be that out of it. And you were a true gentleman. It means the world to me. If I were you, I’d have mocked me all day. But you didn’t, and I appreciate that so much.”

“I wouldn’t mock you for having an adverse reaction to a drug. Besides, it’s not that adverse to be drowsy.”

“Can I get you dinner or something? Wait,” she says, slashing her hand through the air as if she’s erasing the thought. “Want to order in and then, you know, try to do some work on the car? Since we didn’t get to it earlier and you’re about as much of a work junkie as I am.” She shoots me a knowing smile.

“Which would mean I’m obsessed with it?”

She smiles. “Yes.”

“Guilty as charged. Also, I love your plan, and I did some work today that I’d like to show you. Do you like Thai?”