Until April (Until Her 6)

Tossing back the white duvet on my bed, I get up and head for the bathroom. I might have gotten a late start, but there is still time for me to get some work done. After doing my makeup, hair, and getting dressed, I carry my heels with me downstairs to the empty kitchen, then look out on the back deck, not seeing Maxim there either.

Not sure where he is, I make myself a cup of coffee and sip it while I turn on my computer and load up my website. Figuring it’s where my number was retrieved, I delete it off the site, then leave only my e-mail for people to contact me. I don’t know how long it’s going to take before this whole thing with Cohen blows over, but I’m hoping that when he leaves to go on tour, the theatrics will go with him.

As I’m closing down my computer and getting ready to call Harris to check in with him, I hear the front door open, and a moment later, feet hit the stairs. When Maxim appears at the top of the steps, my heart does a funny little thump, not only from the sight of him but what he has in his hands.

“Morning, babe.” He walks to where I’m standing at the island, and I tip my head back to him when he gets close. He smiles before he touches his mouth to mine. “Did you sleep all right?” He hands me a beautiful bouquet of colorful flowers, then sets two grocery bags on the counter. “April.”

“You got me flowers.” I look up at him, my throat burning like I’m about to cry. This is seriously getting ridiculous.

“They reminded me of you.” He tips his head to the side. “You okay?” I’m absolutely not okay. No man but my father has ever bought me flowers, and my dad has only gotten me flowers when I’ve accomplished something. “Did something happen?” His eyes scan mine, his expression turning suspicious, and I shake my head.

“I…” I clear my throat. “I don’t have a vase.”

“You don’t have a vase.” His brows dart together.

“No.”

“All right, that’s an easy enough problem to solve.” He opens the cabinet where I keep my cups and pulls down one of my tall Yeti tumblers that has flowers printed on it. “Will this one work?”

“Yeah,” I say softly, and he hands it to me.

“So what’s the plan for the day?” He starts to take groceries out of the shopping bags he brought in while I carefully unwrap the flowers.

“When you came in, I was about to call Harris to confirm all the houses we have scheduled for today are still available.”

“If you’re not up to showing me houses today, I’m good with that,” he says as I grab a pair of scissors out of the drawer.

“You’re not here for long,” I remind him—and myself—and my stomach twists. This time next week, he will be back in Vegas where he lives, and I will be on my own once more. I start to cut the stems off the flowers so they will fit in the cup. “I think we had three houses scheduled for today and two we didn’t go see yesterday.”

“All right, we can check them out, and after have dinner with my sister Melanie.”

Wait, what?

“Dinner with your sister?” I stop to look at him, and he leans his hip against the counter.

“She called when I was at the store. Her schedule is normally pretty crazy between work and school, but she has time to meet up tonight.”

“I doubt she wants me intruding on her time with her brother.”

“She’s the one who told me to invite you.”

“Oh.” I lick my lips, feeling caught off guard and somewhat confused about what is happening between us. I’ve never been in a situation like this one, and honestly I don’t know what to do.

“You good with that?”

“Sure.” I place a few more cut flowers in the cup, wondering how fucking cliché it would be to ask him what the heck is happening here.

“All right.” He grabs the tray of eggs he unpacked and turns to the stove. “You want scrambled eggs?”

“That sounds good.” I finish putting together my flowers, then I take a seat at the counter and call Harris while Maxim makes us breakfast. After getting our schedule set up for the day, I hang up, eat breakfast, then head out to see some houses with the man who has completely invaded my life.

_______________

WITH MAXIM DRIVING, I go through my emails, deleting the ones from Cohen’s fans, then forward the ones from potential clients to Harris. He can send out a copy-and-paste generic email to them, asking things like when they plan on moving, if they’ve been preapproved, and what they are looking for. With so many people moving to Tennessee from all over the US, it’s always easier to weed out those who are just curious before putting in the work of making contact and looking for homes.