I took that in but stayed on topic. “You don’t want any of the food that Max cooked? He’s really good at it.”
He silently shook his head, looking at me with wounded eyes. What did he think was going to happen to him if he told me he didn’t want to eat?
“Timothy,” Muffy said through clenched teeth. “We spoke about this.”
Oh, I knew that look well. My father used to throw it at us. That was the you are embarrassing me look. I shuddered to remember being on the opposite end of that look.
Max knelt next to me. “How about some pasta?”
Tim’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
He nodded. “For sure. Really. Yes, easy to do. Come with me, my man.”
Muffy blinked fast. “Oh you don’t have to—”
He interrupted her. “Easiest thing in the world. I don’t blame him. I didn’t want to eat fancy food when I was his age. Little pasta. Little red sauce. Easy as pie. Come on.”
Although the noises in the kitchen—the banging and clanging—continued, I couldn’t help but notice the conversation had ceased. Max’s entire staff watched their exchange. He picked up Timothy as though that were the most natural thing to do and carried him over to an area of the kitchen not being used. Setting him down on the counter, he started to grab pots and pans, filled them with water, and began making pasta, as promised, despite the party happening in the next room.
“Well, if you’ve got him.” Muffy waved her hand and exited the room, leaving her son in the care of two childless people she barely knew.
Max shook his head but said nothing, instead turning to Tim. “I have several nephews your age.”
“Do they live close by?” Tim’s eyes lit up as he asked the question.
“No, they’re in Maine, unfortunately.”
I walked over to them. “Have you been to Maine, Tim?” I pulled out my phone. Was it appropriate to let him play one of the games I had on there? Like the matching game that I couldn’t put down when I played it and really needed to get off my phone… “Do you like Candy Games?”
He full-on grinned. “You’re so nice, Hope.”
“You are too.” I patted his head. I loved kids, but I had next to no experience with them and really no idea what to do when I was around them. That was okay. I would spoil Noah, and that might be the extent of children I ever really knew. Ignoring the pain the thought brought me, I focused on Tim instead. “Did you do anything fun for summer this year?”
Max set some carrots down in front of Tim, who started immediately munching on them. When had Max pulled out the carrots? It was funny, if I didn’t watch Max intently in this kitchen, I missed things. He cooked the pasta, but his eyes never really stopped monitoring the kitchen. Waiters came in and out to collect food and drop off trays, and staff passed plates around to each other to serve and cook things. Max reminded me of a conductor with an orchestra.
“I went to my grandmother’s. She lives at the beach.”
Max side-eyed him, placing a piece of buttered toast on the plate that was now vacant of carrots. “I grew up on the beach.”
“Actually on the beach?” I hadn’t known that. Quaint town in Maine that turned into an artist’s retreat was all I knew about his hometown.
“Rocky and good for fishing but there… It counted.” He winked at Tim and turned off the heat on the pasta, spooning it out of the pot, while Anna came over and poured some red sauce on it. How had they communicated for her to know he wanted her to do that? Maybe it just came from working with someone for so long that you eventually knew what they wanted you to do without having to be asked to do it? “What was your grandmother’s beach like, Tim?”
He stared at the pasta, his eyes widening with each inhale he took. “White.”
“White. That sounds pretty. We’re going to let this cool for a second. This is a carb heavy meal, but you are young and growing. Plus, you’ll never believe it, but what Anna put in the sauce is good for you. It just looks red, so you like it. My mother’s trick.”
He really was good with children. In fact, as I watched the back and forth through Tim’s whole meal, of which he ate all of it, it was very obvious that Max just knew how to talk to him. Still, when the food was done, Tim jumped at me, wrapping his arms around my neck and holding on.
I wasn’t exactly sure what to do in that second or why Tim had grabbed me. As it was, the door opened and Muffy entered. Tim’s body stiffened, and I set him down. Poor guy. He was definitely tense around his mother.
“Time to go.” Muffy smiled at me and took Tim’s hand. “Keep the escrow money until we get back.”
I nodded. That was fine. The money was in an account and not going anywhere. All in all, Muffy’s event had been cheap, not that I would tell her that. “Are you taking a trip?”
“Oh yes, of course. We’re going to Slomestikan to give out the food with the charity workers. Didn’t I tell you?” She leaned forward. “It’s going to be so exciting.”
No, she had absolutely not told me that she intended to visit a country that the State Department suggested we avoid visiting. “Um…you are going yourself?”
“Yes, of course. This is my charity donation. I want to be there to see the gratitude.”
With that, she took Tim and walked back into the dining room. My body was cold, and I rubbed my arms to warm myself up.
“You’re not wrong.” Max placed a hand on my arm. “That’s a really stupid thing to do. I’ve been there. She has no business going. Honestly, I’m not sure who the organization is that she hired at all, but I hope they know what they’re doing.”
He’d been there? “When you were in the army?”
“Afterward, actually.” He touched the side of my face. “Not going to talk about it, but yeah. So I wish Muffy well, but boy…that’s a dumb move. Kid was cute.”
He was. I sighed. “I suppose I should go make an appearance at the party.”
Max shrugged. “You could and I suppose you should, but you could also go sit at that little table in the corner and let me feed you.”
He wanted to feed me? I stared at the door where the last party I’d be throwing like this was happening. And then I turned around and sat down at the table. Max wanted to feed me, and I was going to let him. With a smirk that shouldn’t be as cute as it was, he headed to a different stovetop and started to cook.
After a moment, he looked up. “Ben, get Hope a seltzer. Oh and, Hope, you want a meal made entirely of pesto sauce right? Everything coated in pesto?”
“Ha, ha.” I rolled my eyes at him. “I see the plan. Lure me here with promises of food and make me choke down pesto.”
The seltzer was set down in front of me, and I took a sip, loving the bubbles. Max had seen me order this when we’d gone out. It was sweet he remembered it was usually my choice. Or at least as usual as he could know anything about me up until that point.
Soon, the food started rolling out. I should probably tell him not to do this. Surely they had to prep for dinner after finishing a catered lunch that they didn’t usually serve. But I wasn’t going to say anything. Max wanted to feed me, and I wanted to let him.
I let myself look around. The standards of cleanliness were clearly high. The kitchen, even with all the food passing and dishes being moved around, practically sparkled. Max would look up about every forty-five seconds from what he was doing. His staff moved fast. If they placed something in a storage box on the left side of the room, they wrote their initials next to it. Also, every box was labeled directly in the center of the box. That had to be purposeful.
I’d no sooner thought it than the first dish was set in front of me by Max himself. He leaned over the other side of the table and watched me look down at the dish, which was a little bit strange. I’d never had a chef present at the table in a restaurant to watch me eat before. It was somehow different at home.
“That’s gazpacho with Maine lobster. A little melon to go with it. If I’d had more time, I would have added some oth
er fish too, so I’m sorry. It’s not everything I would have done.”
He was sorry? It was gorgeous. Like a piece of artwork on the plate. “Did you just do all of this right this very second?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I knew you were coming. I prepped.” His smile was slow. “Take a bite.”
I couldn’t have refused him anything in that second. I took a bite. The flavors together exploded in my mouth. Lobster could be too chewy. This wasn’t. The melon, a flavor I wouldn’t have paired with shellfish, worked to make everything sweet at the same time. I closed my eyes. “That is really, really good.”
He didn’t answer me, so I lifted my lids. Finally, he spoke. “I know. Enjoy. Be right back with the next bit.”
There was more? I really would have been happy to have just eaten this. All of the hype for his cooking was obviously well deserved. What would have happened to him if I hadn’t fucked with his life? I tried not to let that thought sour my tastebuds as I finished eating the melon. Eating alone wasn’t ideal. Also, I couldn’t have said why, but I might have sworn that all eyes in the kitchen were on me at one time or another.
They all seemed to be busy and not paying attention to me, except they totally were. Layla could always tell when she was being stared at, and she said it felt like pinpricks on her skin. I didn’t have her ability, but I did feel like there were perpetual eyes on me and I couldn’t have said why.
I’d no sooner finished than a man I hadn’t met delivered a salad in front of me. He spoke with an accent and a kind smile. “Kale salad. For you.”
With a nod, he left it there in front of me. I didn’t adore kale most of the time. It was fine, but it was like walking on the treadmill in terms of food. Not my favorite thing, yet I’d do it because it was good for me. In fact, given the fact that I was recently called fat by a gossip blogger, perhaps I should be eating more kale. It didn’t matter. Right then, I ate like I hadn’t a care in the world.
There was melon on the kale salad. That was new for me too. Melon wasn’t something I usually put on salads. Clearly, it was something that Max was doing tonight. I took a bite and knew immediately I hadn’t given kale a fair shake before. There were also small chips that were great because they added a crunch. I hadn’t known I needed that crunch, but oh, I loved it.
“How’s the melon?” Max asked as he swung back over.
As I was chewing, I shot him a thumbs-up gesture. Once I swallowed, I spoke. “The best kale I’ve ever eaten.”
Max leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Glad you like it, beautiful.”
With that, he rushed back to the station where he’d been working. Anne lifted her head, and this time, made direct eye contact with me before she lifted her eyebrows slowly. I swallowed some of my kale. I wasn’t sure exactly what she was saying to me, but her nonverbal gesture seemed serious. Okay. I sort of got it. She didn’t want me to fuck with him. I wasn’t. I had no idea where things were headed with Max and me, but right then, I was totally serious in how head over heels I was falling for him.
Yep, that was a cliché, and that was okay. Sometimes the cheesy love sayings worked because they just did.
Oh no. I’d thought the L word. We had sex once, and he cooked for me. I wasn’t in l… No, I wasn’t even going to think it. Nope. Nope. Nope.
Then he set the duck down in front of me. I swallowed. This had to be one of my most favorite things. Had I told him that? No, I didn’t think I had. Leave it to Max to just so happen to be cooking duck. I smiled up at him.
“I love duck.”
He nodded. “Of course you do. You have excellent taste.”
This still had the melon. That must have been the theme for the night. “Do you always do this? Same ingredient in all the dishes?”
“No.” He eyed the duck. I hadn’t tried it. This was a thing, clearly. Max wanted to watch me take a bite like he had with the kale and the lobster. This time, I took the bite but kept my eyes on his when I did. The room might as well have emptied out. It was like we were alone in it. I tasted plums and something else… Was that fennel in there too? Of course, also butter. “I just did that for you. The melon in everything.”
I swallowed my food. “You’re amazing. This is…really, really exceptional.”
I didn’t remember eating the rest of that duck. As good as it was, all I could see was Max as he stood in front of me. Time passed, the duck got eaten, and I was full in a happy, I ate the best food in the world kind of a way. But there was Max—tall, strong, talented, and totally focused on me.
I hadn’t understood the seduction of his cooking, the power in the artistry.
I loved it.
When I finished, he leaned over again and kissed me on the lips. “Do you have somewhere you have to be right now?”
I didn’t. “No.”
“Okay then, after I give you this very good cake I didn’t make, could you come back here, say at midnight, and let me take you out? I know it’s very late, but that’s how late I’ll be working tonight.”
My heart rate kicked up. “I think I can do that, Max. I don’t see why I can’t.”
“Have one of your guards walk you to the door. I don’t want you wandering around alone late like that. Walk you to the door. Okay?”
I nodded. Maybe I should scoff? Before the bodyguards, I’d been perfectly fine in Manhattan all by myself. Still, it was nice that he cared, and there were worse things than someone who cared if you might get hurt.
“I’ll do that.”
He cupped the side of my face. “Seriously, the cake is really, really good.”
I laughed. I was sure it was. Even if he hadn’t made it, I’d learned in these minutes watching him cook and actually eating his food that there was no way that Max would ever serve anything that wasn’t exceptional. Still, I was sure when I thought back to these moments, it wouldn’t actually be the food that I would remember. It would be this incredible eye contact with Max, the way he looked at me, the way he was affectionate in front of his work colleagues, the way… Well, all of it.
We’d had sex in a car, yet somehow, this seemed more intimate.
“What are we going to do so late at night?” I smirked at him. “Or maybe I know the answer already.”
He laughed, a low sound. “Yes, before we got to bed, we could do that. But, no, I’m taking you out. You have your New York, and I have mine. I think you might prefer my version of it. I’m getting you that cake now.”
My phone dinged, and I looked down to see my cousin from the State Department had texted me. You haven’t needed any food lately.
I smiled. No, it seemed like Max might have everything he needed. Maybe I could soon be one of those things.
Chapter 11
I supposed I could have stayed in the same clothes I’d worn to the event, but if Max intended to take me out, I actually needed to dress down a bit. He wasn’t going to be taking me anywhere where I needed to be so formal. I ended up putting on a pair of dark jeans with a black tank top. It might have been a little bit too chilly for it, but I’d been cold for fashion before. I didn’t want to have to carry a jacket or a sweater around. Years of leaving my things all over the place and having to go back for the things I’d forgotten wherever I’d set them down had taught me it was better to just not bring the thing at all.
Rubbing my arms as I walked with my bodyguard to the side door of Hyperion made me wonder if I should have just brought the sweater. Too late to change my mind now.
I lifted my hand to knock when the door swung open. It was five minutes after midnight, and although the streets were somewhat more subdued, no one would call them empty.
“Hey.” Max smiled at me. “I saw you pull up.” He offered his hand. “You’re five minutes late.”
Oh, so he was that kind of punctual? That was an interesting fact to store away in the box labeled ‘Max’ in my mind. “There was traffic.”
He winked at me before looking at my bodyguard. “You’re new.”
&
nbsp; “They rotate at night sometimes. Can’t expect the same two people to follow me around all day. This is Trey. Trey, Max.”
With a slight tug, I found myself in the restaurant. “I’ve got her now. We’ll be leaving soon. Nothing will happen to her while she’s with me.”
Trey, who was usually quiet in the way that told me he absolutely did not want to chat, nodded at Max. “I’ll follow along from a distance you won’t see. We don’t take our eyes off her unless she’s inside and secured.”
Max nodded back, like he appreciated the answer, then turned back to me when my bodyguard left. “Aren’t you going to be cold? It’s a little bit chilly out there.”
I shrugged. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’ve got something here you can wear.” He left me to walk around the kitchen, staring in the sink. It was weird, after so much activity earlier, to see it so eerily quiet. But Max checked out every square inch of his kitchen before turning toward his office. I’d never been in there, but when he came back out seconds later, he wore a coat and handed me a dark black jacket. I wasn’t small, but it was huge on me since Max was significantly bigger. “You benefit from the fact that I left this one here a year ago by accident.”
I grinned at him. “A year ago, and you didn’t bring it home?”
“I kept meaning to. I guess it’s good, since you didn’t properly dress tonight.” He took my hand. “We’re going to walk ten blocks. Will the bodyguards freak out?”
I really didn’t think so. “This crew is less attached to me. They trade in and out from Michael’s overall employees. They’re not permanently assigned to me. Not that they don’t take it seriously, but…”
He nodded, like he understood what I hadn’t said. “The other two are getting paternal. I can see it with them. That’s actually a good thing. Better they care than not.”
Max locked up the place and then took my hand in his. It was nice to be in his jacket, almost like he had his arms around me in a hug. I rolled my eyes internally. Yep, I’d done the thing where I’d over-attached. This was not a man who did relationships, I didn’t think. Truthfully, we didn’t know each other all that well yet. Maybe we were on course to become friends.
Redheaded Redemption (Redheads Book 2) Page 12
