Friend Zoned: Sugar Rush Part 20

His laughter is loud and so happy-sounding that my moment of regret is replaced by tummy flutters and a small smile. He walks away, leaving me in the hall. Just before he enters his room, he looks back at me, smiling, and drops the towel a second before he walks through the door, giving me a heart attack, as well as a nice view of his taut b.u.t.t.

The door closes and I can only think of one thing.

Dat a.s.s.

Chapter Twenty.

Helena I was told to make myself at home, so that's exactly what I do. h.e.l.l, if it were Max being told to do it, he'd do it. I'm just returning the favor. When I step into the kitchen, I look through cupboards until I find the gla.s.ses, take one out, and then open the fridge. I hear footsteps come into the kitchen and I ask, "Don't you have anything to drink in this place?"

I look up from the fridge door to find Max standing there in black sweats, a navy skintight tank, and white sneakers. I look down at myself then back up at him. I ask through a laugh, "Did you color coordinate yourself to look like me?"

He shrugs, a smile playing at his lips. "I thought we could play 'who wore it better?'"

Not thinking at that moment, I respond immediately, "You. Definitely you." Closing my eyes, I slap a hand across my mouth and giggle nervously. "Oh s.h.i.t. That was stupid."

Max comes up behind me, leaning over me to view that sad state of his fridge. His body molds to mine, his front pressing into my back. As my minds squeals then faints dead away, he murmurs as he pulls away, "This is worse than I thought. Come on. Let's go to the grocery store."

I shake my head. "No, I just came to talk. Nat's waiting at Tina's for me."

His eyes narrow as he shrugs. "So? Tell her I'll take you home."

I sigh through my response, "That's not an option."

He pokes me in the rib. "Why?"

I have no idea. My brain has farted so hard it might've p.o.o.ped a little. "I...uh-she's waiting for me, is why. She's across the street, waiting for me. She's waiting so I-um...can't do that right now." I think I should get an award for getting through that sounding only half-special.

His eyes on me, he lifts his cell to his ear and waits. "Yo." He smirks at something the person on the other end has said. "No, I haven't killed her. Yet." He rolls his eyes. "Or seduced her." He looks at me and winks. "Yet." He pauses to listen, then speaks into the receiver, "We're going grocery shopping. I'll bring her home later. You need anything?"

The little s.h.i.t. My face heats and I hiss, "Will you stop doing that?"

Placing a hand over the cell, he asks a confused, "Doing what?"

My mouth gapes. I near-shriek, "Making me do what I don't want to!"

He doesn't answer me, just shakes his head as he speaks into the phone. "Okay, babe. No problem. And you tell that husband of yours he better watch his back. The second he f.u.c.ks up, I'm all over you like stink on s.h.i.t."

My eyes narrow.

Of course he flirts with my sister. Of course he does. He doesn't flirt with me, but he flirts with her.

He takes in my murderous glare then grins, "Okay, I have to go before your sister cuts my b.a.l.l.s off. Love you."

He places his cell in his pocket and smiles. "See? No problem." Before I can get a word in, he calls out, "Yo, baby girl. Let's go."

She calls back, "Where are we going?"

"Grocery shopping."

It takes a moment before Ceecee comes out of her room and into the kitchen. She mutters, "Thank G.o.d, I'm starving." She looks up at me and asks hesitantly, "Are you coming?"

I don't get to answer. I don't get to answer, because Max throws his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close. "Of course she's coming. We need to feed her too."

And for the first time since I've been in New York, Ceecee smiles. "Cool." Sure, she smiles down at her hands, but it's still something.

I may not have wanted to be here before, but at that small response, I want to be here now. I smile down at her. "Let's see if we can get some chunky monkey while we're down there too."

Ceecee looks up at me in awe, eyes wide. "I love chunky monkey."

I'm so shocked at this change of behavior that I balk. I recover quickly with, "I think we just became best friends."

Her smile is so wide, so beautiful, that I want to cry. I'm getting through to her.

And somehow, Max knew I would.

Max Nuh uh. I don't like this. Not one bit.

Why does she have to be so d.a.m.n beautiful? I'm having a hard time controlling myself around her. When I saw her bent over in front of the fridge, I couldn't stop myself. I had to feel her body against mine. So I did what I did. Worse decision I've ever made in my life. As soon as my front pressed into her back, images of Helena moaning and gasping as I hold her long brown hair in my fisted palm and drive into her a.s.saulted me. Of course I started to get hard. I had to back away.

I want her. What's worse is she's not here for me. She's here for Ceecee. So I'll do what I've been doing for years, doing what I do best.

I'll hold back.

Helena Ceecee and I walk out the front door to the fancy black SUV parked out front. The car flashes its lights then chirps, letting us know it's unlocked. Ceecee wheels ahead. My brows narrow as she wheels to the side of the vehicle and opens the sliding door. She presses a b.u.t.ton on the inside, and a ramp is lowered.

I can't help myself. "Holy c.r.a.p, this is awesome!"

Max opens the front door and slides into the driver's seat. "Yeah, we like it."

This is the coolest, most sporty looking wheelchair-accessible vehicle I've ever seen. "What is this?"

As Ceecee makes her way up the ramp and secures herself, Max explains, "It's called an MV-1."

I shake my head. "Never heard of it."

He nods. "It's only been out a month or so. Thankfully, I signed up early and we got one of the first sixty made. The manufacturer is here in New York, so that probably made it easier. That, and the fact I was willing to pay in cash."

Looking around the vehicle, I whisper, "I love it." Then I say out loud, "I am so glad you're not one of those tools who owns a fast car."

Max stiffens, and then stutters, "W-why?"

I shrug. "I don't know. I just don't like 'em. They're stupid, and so unnecessary."

Ceecee giggles from the backseat. "Daddy has a Jag."

I turn in my seat. "A what?"

She giggles some more. "A Jaguar."

I look back at her and groan. She giggles louder. I look over at Max and bite my lip to hold in my laugh. "Not that you're a tool, Max. I only meant all the other tool-ish people who have stupid cars for no good reason."

He pulls out of the driveway and he looks to be pouting. We drive in silence for a few minutes before he explodes in a rush of words, "A Jag isn't just a car, m'kay? It's power under your feet. It's speed and sheer excellence, all right? It's-"

I cut in with, "A c.r.a.ppy way to spend a hundred grand."

And Ceecee loses it again. She laughs so hard I fear she may wet herself. So she likes her dad being made fun of? I hate myself a little right now that I like Max being made fun of as long as she's smiling. I'll have to apologize to him later.

Max sighs. "You're a girl. You don't get it. If I were having this conversation with a guy, he'd get it. You need t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es for this conversation. Do you have t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es, cupcake?"

I fight my smile. "I don't thin-"

But he cuts me off by placing his hand up. "I asked you a question. Do you have t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es, Helena?"

My lips thin. a.s.s. "No. I do not have t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es, Max."

He nods. "Firstly, thank f.u.c.k for that." Ceecee accidentally lets out a giggle at her dad's silliness and we both still, side-eyeing each other in shock. He quickly adds, "Secondly, because of your lack of male parts, what you say doesn't count, babe." He shrugs. "That's just the way it is."

I discreetly reach over and squeeze his thigh in a secret hi-five. His hand covers mine and squeezes back in what I'm sure would be a cheer. We finally pull up to the grocery store and step out of the car. Ceecee does everything she needs to lower herself out of the down the ramp. As I move to help her out, Max holds me back and mutters under his breath, "Yeah, no. That's a great way to p.i.s.s her off. Let her do it."

We wait a minute longer and I watch Ceecee closely. Steel determination is worn apparent on her face.

Hmmm. Interesting.

An idea strikes me, and I suddenly can't wait to get back to the house. I have to talk to my client in private.

Max moves to stand next to Ceecee, but wraps an arm around me. "So what's for dinner, guys? We can order in or I can cook."

Ceecee mumbles defiantly, "I don't want you to cook."

And for no reason whatsoever, I b.u.t.t in where I'm not needed, making a spectacle of myself, when I usually prefer to blend into the background. Go me! "I can cook."

Max starts to protest, when Ceecee asks curiously, "What can you cook?"

My shoulder jumps. "Just about anything, really. I was always in the kitchen with my mom, even when I didn't want to be. She just pulled us girls in there and hoped something would stick. Lucky for her, all of us like cooking. Mostly because we love eating." Ceecee wheels herself forward, brows creased in concentration. She looks to be thinking hard when I ask, "What do you want to eat, honey?"

"I don't really care." Darn. And I thought I was onto something there. Then she asks quietly, "But can I help you cook?"

Bingo!

I narrow my eyes at her. "Can you chop?" She nods, wide-eyed. "Can you grate?" She nods once more. I finally ask, "Can you add seasoning?" Her heads jerks up and down. I move from Max's hold to stand in between them and place a hand on Ceecee's shoulder. "Then I guess you're making Nachos tonight. From scratch."

She looks up at me in shock. "Me?"

I nod as if it's no big deal. "Sure. Of course, I'll be supervising, but you're making dinner tonight. On your own." I wait a moment before I ask, "Is that okay with you?"

We enter the store when she utters, "I just don't want to ruin it."

At the very same time, Max and I both respond with complete confidence, "You won't."

She nods then, and I feel relief flow through my body with a breath I hadn't known I was holding. She looks around the store. "What do I need?"

I look over at Max and raise my brows. "If your dad doesn't mind, you can go get two packets of Taco seasoning while I get the vegetables and meat organized."

Max says, "I don't mind," but she's already off, getting things on her own like a grown-up.

As soon as she's out of sight, my shoulders droop in relief. "Holy s.h.i.tb.a.l.l.s, that was like pulling teeth."

I squeak when I'm swooped off of my feet, both literally and figuratively. Max lifts me as if I weigh nothing at all. I grip his shoulders tight as he spins me around, laughing. "You're amazing. That was amazing. You..." he places me back on my feet, still holding me around the waist, "are amazing."

"Okay," I mutter, kind of confused.

He looks me in the eye, grinning from ear to ear, dimple cutting into his cheek. "I'm going to kiss you now."

What? No!

I shake my head. "No, don't do that!"

He makes a duh face. "I have to kiss you. Those are the rules."

"Max! Don't!"

He pulls me close. "What's a little kiss between friends? I've kissed Nat a hundred times before. Now it's your turn. Don't be such a baby."

Heart racing, I swallow hard and state weakly, "I'm not kissing you."

Lowering his face to mine, he orders, "Pucker up, cupcake. I'm coming in."

I open my mouth to argue, but my argument dies in my throat as Max's lips cover mine in a warm, sweet, tame kiss.

d.a.m.n it to heck. So this is what this feels like, huh?

My eyes flutter closed and my foot lifts off the ground, toes curling. I feel this kiss. I feel it from head to toe. Warmth spreads throughout my suddenly weak body, and this kiss is nothing. I know the difference between this kiss and a hot kiss, and my insides die a little at the simple fact that if this were a tame kiss, his real kisses would be explosive.

It lasts no more than a few seconds, although from the way my head becomes woozy, it feels like hours. When he pulls away smiling, I have to hold his tank tight to stop myself from falling over. He wraps an arm around my waist and walks me forward, sighing as though the kiss was no big deal. "It's a good day to be alive, cupcake. I told you you'd be perfect."

Mouth drier than the Sahara, I mutter a hoa.r.s.e, "I need water."

He walks me along. "Whatever you want, it's yours. h.e.l.l, I'd just about give you whatever you asked for right now. I owe you big time."