I can’t say she’s wrong.
When she’s gone, Max takes my hands. “I’m sorry. I have a backlog from the dates I canceled while I was trying to win you over. I’m just as disappointed as you are.” He links his fingers through mine. “The next couple of weeks are going to be hell, but then ... I’m doing everything I can to make sure we’ll have more time together. I promise.”
I’m feeling mildly resentful that a duck is seeing my man more than I am. “I could come over to the loft in the morning. Give you a special wakeup call.”
He looks down when I put my hand on his thigh, and I can practically hear the frantic rush of blood to his groin. “God, I’d love that, but tomorrow’s not great. Late night tonight, early start tomorrow. Maybe Friday?”
I lean away from him. For all of his acting prowess, right now it’s as clear as the boner in his pants that he’s hiding something. My brain says to call him out and try to get to the truth, but my heart whispers that the truth is probably the last thing I want to hear. There’s something going on with Max, and if he’s keeping it a secret, it must be something that will hurt me.
“Okay, then,” I say and do my best to act like anxiety isn’t turning my stomach into acid. “I’ll wait for you to call. Let me know when things slow down a little.”
He stands and pulls me to my feet, and then he cups my face with both hands and kisses me so deeply, I almost believe everything will be okay.
“I love you,” he says then kisses me again. “I promise, things will be less crazy soon. I’ll see you in a few days.”
He holds me for a few seconds, and then with effort, he pulls away and heads to the door.
When he leaves, I sigh and sit back in my chair. “I think you had the right idea, Nan. Ducks are way less stressful than men.”
*
As I step into Nannabeth’s apartment, I’m suspicious of how quiet it is. Usually as soon as Moby hears a key slide into the door he comes running to see who it is, but there’s no duck to be found.
“Max? Moby?” I walk into the living room and find Max’s leather duffle there, but the apartment’s empty. Figuring they must be up on roof, I head toward the back stairs.
It’s been two days since Max came to the hospital, and I’ve snuck away from Nan’s side in the hope of surprising him and convincing him to have lunch with me before he disappears for a date. It’s crazy that now that I’m officially his girlfriend, I’m seeing less of him than when he was just the subject of my story. How is that fair?
We talk on the phone, but it doesn’t make being separated any easier. I just need to see him for a few minutes to quiet my natural paranoia that whispers he could still be playing me. Now that I’ve agreed to kill the story, it seems like he’s going back to business as usual and keeping me interested enough not to make trouble. I don’t truly believe that, but my illogical, distrustful side does. When I look into his eyes, it makes that part shut up for a while. Being in his arms doesn’t hurt, either.
When I get up to roof, I curse that I’ve left my phone in the apartment, because the sight that greets me needs to be recorded for generations to come. Max is next to the pond wearing just shorts and running shoes, doing shirtless pushups, and Moby is sitting on his butt. Every time Max goes down then up again, Moby quacks, like some sort of feathery personal trainer.
I stay where I am and just watch, stifling my laughter. There’s something about the hotness of Max mixed with the adorableness of Moby that makes my heart, as well as locations lower on my body, go into overdrive.
I take my time to ogle Max and all of his sweaty, bulging glory as he does more pushups than I care to count. Dear God, those muscles. I’ve never really thought about how many places there are to fuck on Nannabeth’s roof before, but I’m sure as hell scoping them out now. He’s covered in tattoos today, and I wonder which fantasy they’re for. Then I stop wondering, because every scenario I come up with is way too sexy to contemplate, and I don’t want to think of him oozing all of that sexiness over someone else.
When Max finishes, he stands up slowly to give Moby a chance to flap to the ground.
“Okay,” he says, pointing to the pool. “Three times around it, and then you can have a swim.” Moby looks up at him and quacks. “Hey, don’t do the crime if you can’t do the time, buddy. Maybe in the future you’ll think more carefully before knocking over an entire box of oats and then spreading them all over the kitchen. Let’s go. Move that little feathery ass.” Max takes off at a slow jog, and Moby waddles to keep up, quacking angrily as he goes. “Complaining isn’t going to help. Come on. Pick up the pace.”
I smile as they do their laps, and when they’re done, I emerge from the shadows of the stairwell doorway just as Moby jumps up into the pond and splashes around.
Max flinches a little as I approach, clearly not expecting company.
“Oh, hey.” His shock melts into a smile, and he jogs over to meet me. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” He leans down and gives me a soft kiss, but when I try for more, he steps back. “Trust me, you don’t want to go there. I’m disgusting.”
I step into him and put my hands on his chest. “I don’t care. Kiss me.”
Lust flashes in his eyes, and he takes my head and angles it to the side before kissing me, slow and intense. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, and the roughness of his scruff is sexy as hell. He angles me the other way and groans against my lips. When he pulls back, he looks down at himself and sighs.
“See what you do to me? One kiss, and I’m rock hard. No other woman has ever had this effect on me before.”
I look down at the shape of him, jutting out and stretching the front of his shorts. “You know, it would really be a pity to see all of that go to waste. I could take care of it, if you want.”
I palm him gently, and he groans again. “You have no idea how much I’d like that, but I have to shower and get dressed. I have a date downtown in forty minutes, so I’m already in danger of running late. Are you okay to stay up here with Moby for a while?”
“Yeah. Of course. I’ll come down and see you before you go.” I hide my disappointment and try not to pout as he jogs over to the stairs and disappears.
Welp, best laid plans and all that. At least I got a kiss.
I go over to the pond and squat near the edge, so I can pick some leaves out of the water, and when I glance over at Moby, he looks toward the stairwell and quacks.
“Yeah, buddy. He’s left us.” He quacks again. “Well, he has a very important job that helps people feel good about themselves. It shouldn’t make me jealous, right?” Moby swims over to me and nuzzles my hand, and I take the cue to stroke his head. “Oh, you’re jealous, too? Thank God. Nice to know I’m not alone.”