Sugar Rush (Friend-Zoned 3)

I also like that super weirdly. I walk over to him and take one. He catches my lips in a quick kiss, pulls back looking apologetic, and mouths, “Sorry.” Then whispers, “We won’t stay long.”

Placing the bags on the counter, I shake my head and utter, “Don’t be silly. I want you here.”

Ceecee gasps and reaches down. When she turns around, Tedwood sits in her lap and she whisper-hisses wide-eyed, “You have a kitty!”

I smile down at him. Ever since Max gave him that pep talk, he’s been acting semi-normal. The worm. Walking behind Max, I open a cupboard and take out a white packet. I hand it to Ceecee and tell her, “His name is Tedwood, Teddy for short. And if you give him a few of his smelly fish treats, he’ll let you love him.”

She smiles so hard her cheeks are at risk of exploding. I make my way back to the kitchen, where Max stands watching Ceecee. I reach over and place my hand in his, entwining our fingers. He looks over at me, smiling. I smile in return before looking back at Ceecee. I whisper sincerely, “I want you here.”

Letting go of my hand, he wraps an arm around me, pulling me into him. I reach up, placing my hand on his chest, mildly terrified of how right this feels. Standing on my tiptoes, I lay a gentle kiss on his jaw before taking my container of soup and moving to the sofa, where Ceecee plays with Teddy. “So, what junk did you get us?”

Max works at putting thing in the fridge and freezer, calling out, “We got everything we need for a banana split, chips, dip, popcorn, and—”

A beaming Ceecee cuts him off with, “We got cupcakes!”

Making a sound of mock-disgust, I raise my hand to Ceecee’s and as she giggles, we high-five. Shaking my head, I mutter solemnly, “And may God have mercy on our souls.”

“Amen,” comes from both Max and Ceecee.

I blink up over at them a moment before I whisper in admiration, “That was awesome.”

I turn on the TV, open the container of soup, and spoon some into my mouth. “Oh God,” I moan out. I smack my lips together and praise the chef. “Damn, girlie. I’m not even sure you need lessons anymore. You’re t

urning out to be a regular Jamie Oliver.”

Her face falls momentarily. “But I like cooking with you.”

My heart swells and I reach over to stroke her reddish-brown hair. “You can cook with me whenever you like. Soon enough, you’ll be teaching me new things.” I eat my soup in record time then stand and take it into the kitchen, where Max opens bags of chips and dumps them into bowls. I steal a handful then sit back down, sharing my loot with Ceecee. “What are we watching?”

Max joins us, bringing the chips and sodas, and then hands me a DVD case. I gasp dramatically. “How did you know?” I turn to Ceecee and beam. “I love Pirates of the Caribbean. In fact, I love anything Johnny Depp. I still have a poster of him in my clos—”

Max’s face takes on a look that reminds me of when you suddenly smell someone’s fart. “Johnny who?”

Biting the inside of my cheek to hide my grin, I mumble, “Nothing.” I slip the DVD into the player and sit back on the sofa. Max lifts my feet onto his lap and starts massaging them.

Talk about spoiled.

Sitting one bowl of chips on the armrest between the sofa and Ceecee’s chair, Max takes the remote, looks me in the eye, and asks, “Ready?”

No. I don’t think I am ready for what he’s offering.

But I’ll sure as shit try to hold on and ride the rollercoaster.

I smile softly. “As I’ll ever be.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Max

Walking into Nik’s office, I pull up a chair and state, “I need next Sunday off.”

Sunday nights aren’t usually busy, so I’m not surprised when he doesn’t look up from typing at his computer when he responds, “Okay. I’ll make sure Trick can work it.” This part comes a little harder. It comes harder, because I’ve never asked for this, and I’m not sure what his answer will be. As if just noticing I haven’t left yet, Nik raises his head and narrows his eyes at me, “What do you want now?”

“Next Saturday off too.”

He leans back in his chair and looks at me, hard. “Why?”

I shrug and try not to sound like a pussy when I mumble, “I want to take Helena home for the day. She’s homesick, misses the beach.”