“Oh my God.” The store was spinning.
“What difference does it make? Are you going to be all Dad about this?”
“No! It makes no difference at all. I just didn’t realize.” My voice sounded strange to me.
“Good. You scared me for a second. I can only take one narrow-minded relative. Anyway, I better go. I still have a shit ton of inventory to do.”
“Okay.”
“Hey, what are you guys doing tonight? I’m off. Want to see a movie or something?”
“Uh, no. I mean, I can’t. Maybe Maxim would like to.” His name felt different on my lips.
“Why can’t you?”
“I’m having friends over for dinner.”
“Whatcha making?”
“Roasted chicken and vegetables.” Which I was supposed to be shopping for, so I could get the fuck home and make it, but I was still anchored to my spot by the potatoes.
“Yum! Got room for one more?”
“Sure,” I said absentmindedly.
“Great! What time should I come over?”
“Uh, seven is good.”
“Perfect. Gives me time to go home and clean up. Who else is coming?”
I forced myself to start walking again, focus on the task at hand. Chicken. I need a chicken. “Um, Gage and Lanie. Carolyn.”
“Ooh, is that the girlfriend?”
“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just—someone I’m seeing.”
“Well, whatever. You’ve mentioned her, and I’ve been hoping to meet her. I’ll see you tonight!”
“Okay. Bye.” I ended the call and brought up my grocery list so I could finish shopping, but I found myself having to look at it again and again, my mind was so preoccupied with what Ellen had told me.
Maxim was gay?
If I’d made any peace at all with his presence in my house for the next two weeks, it was all undone by that news.
Was it true? Did it even matter?
Hell yes it did. My attraction to him suddenly felt a thousand times more dangerous, now that I knew it was possible it could be reciprocated.
And was it? Was Maxim attracted to me? I replayed last night and today in my head, looking for a telltale sign—a word, a touch, a look—something that would give him away, but I came up with nothing. Maybe it was because he felt nothing. Maybe it was because he was Russian and had that detached face mastered. Or maybe it was because I’d been so obsessed with my own feelings, constantly focused inward on what he did to me, that I could find no evidence I’d captured his attention like he’d captured mine.
For a split second, I was disappointed.
What the hell, asshole? That’s a good thing. The last thing you need is for him to be interested in you. You don’t want it. You can’t want it. It’s wrong. Nothing is going to happen.
I took a few deep breaths and repeated the words in my head.
Nothing is going to happen.
Twelve
MAXIM
I saw him.
Through the glass, I saw him.
I’d been looking at the roses, seeing what needed to be done, and I realized I’d need gloves to even get started. As I walked toward the house, I saw Derek through the large glass door off the patio and decided to knock on it. Then I got closer and saw him holding the sweatshirt I’d worn. His face was buried in it.
At first I thought it was a trick of the light on the glass, my mind bending a reflection into a fantasy. But I blinked several times, and he was still there.
My pulse quickened. Why would a man smell another man’s shirt that way, unless he was trying to smell the man? My stomach flipped over.
But rather than stand there and risk being caught, I decided to look away as I knocked. Make him think I hadn’t seen anything. The alternative would’ve been way too awkward for both of us.
Luckily, I was a good actor. I asked him about the gloves without a tremor in my voice and kept my face expressionless. In contrast, his cheeks were deep red, and he refused to make eye contact. It was the most flustered I’d ever seen him. He came outside and hurried into the garage without even glancing my way.
But by the time he found the gloves and handed them over, he’d appeared composed again, his usual self. He told me what he wanted done in the yard overall, what the priorities were today, and where all the tools were. I listened and asked questions and assured him I could handle everything he wanted done, but in my head all I could see was his face buried in that shirt.
I obsessed over it all afternoon, adding up all the significant details—the lack of a girlfriend or wife. The odd moment in the kitchen, where I’d had the crazy thought he might kiss me. The way he’d looked at me last night in my bedroom.
Maybe I wasn’t crazy.
Was it possible I had felt some chemistry between us? Was it possible the attraction was mutual? Was it possible he’d smelled that shirt for the same reason I’d asked to borrow his clothes in the first place—to experience the illusion of intimacy without actual physical touch?
This morning, I’d have said it wasn’t.
Now I was starting to wonder.
When Derek returned from the store, he took bags of groceries straight into the house with barely a glance in my direction. He spent the entire afternoon cooking and preparing for dinner without saying anything to me, although at one point he came out and set a plate with a sandwich and some chips on it on the patio table—a long wooden table with two benches on either side. Next to it, he set a tall glass of ice water. “Lunch,” he called to me before going right back inside.
Grateful, I took a short break to eat and cool off, and when I was done, I left the plate and glass on the table, figuring I’d bring it inside when I was done. But a little later, I looked over and discovered he’d taken them in already.
At that point, I was ready to conclude I’d been totally off about him before. He wasn’t acting like someone who was into me at all. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I might have thought he was irritated with me for some reason.
Eventually, he did come outside to talk to me. I was in the middle of mowing the lawn, and he wandered over, hands in his pockets. It had been a warm afternoon, so I’d taken off my T-shirt earlier, and even though he wore sunglasses I could see the way he stared at my upper body. The sun was hot on my back, but his eyes on my chest were hotter.
“You need sunscreen,” he told me.
I turned off the mower. “Maybe. But the sun feels so good on my skin.”
His gaze stayed on me another few seconds before scanning the yard. “You did a lot of work out here today. And actually, I think you did a better job than my landscapers.”
“Thanks. I haven’t gotten to the rosebushes yet.”
“Don’t worry about it. It can wait until tomorrow.”
“I’ll get it done by tonight.”
“Well, dinner is at about seven-thirty tonight, and it’s about six right now. I wasn’t sure how much time you needed to clean up, or if you wanted to wash some clothes, or borrow something.”
“Thanks, but I don’t need to come to your dinner party. I can stay upstairs once your guests arrive.”
“Actually, you’ll be doing me a favor if you come.”