Stand (Black Addiction Book 3) (6 page)

Could she be more adorable? Her bumbling response a tip off the words had most definitely been spoken, what they were about remained the mystery.

“You can tell your friends whatever you want about me, Beth. I trust my friends, and we’re still friends, right?”

That was probably the most honest thing to come out of my mouth. No playing, no ulterior motive—no game. She knew shit about me that could give the folks at TMZ a real hard-on and I still wasn’t worried. Not because I thought I was bulletproof, but because of all the people in the world to go there, I was sure Beth wasn’t one of them. And if I was wrong then I would happily go down in a ball of flames.

“Of course we are.” Any humor from her voice MIA. “I think we’ll always be friends.”

“Good.” There was no humor in mine either.

I was way more
nervous than I should be.

It’s not like it was a date. Or at least that’s what I told myself. I’m almost positive that two people of the opposite sex can meet for a meal and it not be a date. It was friends just being
friendly
and catching up. And everyone had to eat, it’s not like I could starve. In fact, it was actually really smart, the multitasking of mutually fueling our bodies with nutrients while we talked. Most definitely not a date.

“Beth,” his one word greeting enough to liquefy my sides.
Not a date
, I reminded myself as I shuffled into the seat opposite him.

Max had picked a cute local restaurant in the neighborhood,
Christina’s.
It hadn’t hit the social pages yet so therefore didn’t require a three month advanced booking, but the food was out-of-this-world delicious. It’s exactly the place I would have chosen, if I’d been deciding the venue. Which I hadn’t, because I stupidly pretended to not care. Playing it cool as it were, except I was most definitely not cool.

“Sorry I’m late.” I inched my chair closer, his eyes remaining on me the entire time. Smooth. “I got held up.” Translation, I tried on fifteen outfits before I decided on what to wear. But it’s not a date, of course not. I tried not to sound frazzled as I shot him a smile before directing my attention to my menu. Freaking delicious, and I wasn’t talking about the culinary offerings of Christina’s.

“It’s fine, I haven’t been waiting that long.” He didn’t even bother with the menu instead taking a sip from the beer he’d already ordered.

And being that he was as attentive as he’d always been he also ordered me a pre-meal beverage, a glass of white wine sitting directly in front of me. I offered my silent thank you for his thoughtfulness as I welcomed the chilled goodness into my mouth. I was definitely going to need a few more of these. A lot more and if I didn’t think it would convey the wrong idea, I would have reached across and kissed him.

“So, how’s things?” Really that was the best I was able to offer? At this rate I wasn’t going to be able to make it past appetizers before I dissolved into a white-hot mess. I lifted the glass, draining almost half of it.

“Things are pretty fucking awesome. But you knew that.” His lips twitched into an amused smile. All that smooth, sexy yum he so effortlessly had going on twisted my insides.

“Well, I guess that’s one benefit of having your rise to fame documented in the press.” My mouth babbled without proper consultation with my brain. “You don’t have to waste time with filing in the blanks.” Uh, why was I acting so lame?

“One of the benefits for sure. What about you?” His head nodded in my direction. “I haven’t had the advantage of press coverage. How’s
things
?” He asked with a finesse I clearly hadn’t possessed.

“Great. Really, really great.” I twisted the stem of my now empty wine glass cursing the lack of alcohol in it. They should really make bigger glasses or at least pour these ones to the very top. Wasted space if you asked me. Crap, he was looking at me like I should be continuing, and I couldn’t think of one single thing to say.

Thankfully I was saved—no exaggeration I was literally drowning in my own awkwardness—from having to elaborate as our server approached the table. The girl couldn’t be more than twenty-one, her ponytail swishing as she moved with an eager ready-to-please attitude. And as my gateway to more wine, I immediately welcomed her interruption.

“Hi, I’m Natalie.” She stared at Max her mouth opening and closing wordlessly obviously forgetting the script. The confidence she exuded two minutes ago evaporating as she took in the awesome that was Max Reynolds.

Honestly I felt bad for the girl, I’d been having a hard time getting my words out too and I didn’t have to deal with the first time jitters the man in front of me seemed to invoke. “I-I’ll be your waitress.” She tried again, her hand nervously tugged at her apron. “Ca-Can I tell you about our specials?”

It wasn’t new seeing women around him getting all hot and bothered. He’d always had that affect. His tall well-built frame, ridiculous good looks, paired off with an amazing smile—there’s only so much a girl can take. That had been
before
he’d morphed into the super-hot version of what I was currently sitting across from. Add the fame factor and poor Natalie didn’t stand a chance. I almost wanted to high five her just for getting through it.

“I’m fine, Beth? You want to know the specials?”

Max of course was oblivious; his
do-me
pheromone assaulting the female population as he sat there passively, completely unaffected.

“Umm. Sure.”
Shit
. My mouth panicked, agreeing to hear the spiel of shit-I-wasn’t-going-to-order. And other than buy me more time to get my shit together, it served no purpose other than to torture the poor girl. Call it a quirk, but if it wasn’t on the regular menu—tried and tested—I don’t want it.

Natalie seemed to share my momentary panic, her eyes widening in horror at having to continue. The flustered, unsteady words slowly making their way out of her mouth somehow coming together coherently. Just for that she deserved a decent tip.

By the time she’d finished I had no idea what she’d actually said. Sure I’d picked up a few key words—grain-feed
something
with a
something
jus—and nodded in all the right places. But none of it had been remotely helpful in ordering dinner, my open menu not providing any assistance either. I’d reread the thing at least ten times but had been unable to focus.

“Are you ready to order or would you like some more time?” She asked, the unspoken plea to put her out of her misery bubbling just below the surface.

“Ummm.” Cue the deer in headlights panic that rose inside me. “More wine?” The only thing I was really sure I wanted—scratch that,
needed
—right now.

“The steak here is amazing.” My eyes focused on his mouth as he championed the Porterhouse. Never had the word
steak
been so sexy. “Perhaps you could get that to go with the wine? Unless you’ve turned vegetarian.”

At this point even if I had given up meat—which I hadn’t—I would have agreed. Hell, I would have eaten fifty of them. It would have been worth a case of the meat sweats just to hear him say
amazing
one more time.

“Sure, sounds good.” I nodded my head before refocusing on my still empty glass. “Can I also get another glass of white for now and then a red to go with the main?” Might as well be prepared, it would save me waving her over every fifteen minutes. Actually, could I just have a standing order for a refill whenever my glass was empty? Someone should really make that a thing.

“We’ll have two steaks, medium rare and one of every side on the menu. We’ll share.” He handed back the menus as the waitress nodded hopefully committing our order to memory. The lack of pen and paper had me worried, not so much for the food per se, but for those drinks I desperately needed.

I watched as she ponytail-swooshed away from us, my eyes returning to Max whose attention hadn’t moved from me the entire time. He wasn’t even trying to hide the fact he was staring.

“Wow, every side, huh? You must be either hungry or carb loading.” I giggled nervously before metaphorically shaking myself.
Seriously, get in the game, Beth. What the hell are you saying?

“Well you can never be too sure what you’re going to want until it’s sitting in front of you. I’ve learned not to leave things like that to chance.” Somehow I didn’t think he was talking about the choice between baked potato and mac n cheese.

On cue, Natalie dutifully returned with my glass of white, placing it on the table before swooshing off again, Max’s eyes remaining on me. Not in a way that was simply polite either.

While my stomach flipped somersaults at the attention—I couldn’t be sure the flutter wasn’t due to hunger—my brain was telling me to pull on the emergency brake. Been there, done that annnnnd had moved on.
This wasn’t a date, remember.
I could be in a room and not have my heart hurt or want to rip out his and that had to count for something.

Besides, it didn’t necessarily
mean
anything.

Max was a flirt. Always had been and always would be and his talent was to make you feel exactly like he was making me feel right now. Like everything else around me didn’t exist. He’d done the same thing to Natalie unintentionally. So best all those expectations get pushed to the side right now. We were friends and that’s where it ended.

“You know,” I picked up my glass and took a sip. “This is really nice.” A nice dinner, good company—it didn’t have to be complicated.

“I think so too.” His fingers curled around the neck of his beer as he brought it to his lips. “So tell me about your job.”

I’m not sure if it was the second glass of wine or the easy conversation, but whatever nerves I had been feeling had eased by the time our dinner was served. We both laughed as Natalie struggled to fit the ridiculous amount of plates on our table. The calories about to be consumed enough to last me a whole week. Thank god I had found a new gym, one that didn’t have micro penis as a member.

“I can’t believe you got rid of your old car, you loved that thing.” My hand unconsciously reached across the table and touched his. I blame the wine for the touchy-feel display. He didn’t ask me to move it so I didn’t.

“Nah, I only loved it because it was all I could afford. Besides, it was time for an upgrade.”

Through the course of the meal we had done our mutual verbal spillage. Filling in the years that we hadn’t seen each other, the distance seemed to melt away. We’d even found room for dessert, neither of us ready to call it a night. The food, the conversation—it was nice.
Really
nice.

Unfortunately the warm gooey feeling didn’t last, the night destined to come to a crashing finale.

“Oh, fuck. Shit.” I’d meant to only think it, but those words shot out of my mouth as I ducked my head. My peripheral vision caught sight of micro penis walking in. The quick second look confirmed that it was in fact him and not some weird coincidental doppelgänger talking to the host probably trying to get a table.

“What?” Max asked, turning around no doubt to see what had made me spew out obscenities for no apparent reason.

“No, don’t turn around.” I yanked on his arm trying to focus his attention away from the door. “If you look you’ll attract attention.”

The universe was surely conspiring against me. This had to be an elaborate prank. Or I was being punished for telling him I would call again when I had no intention of calling. Either way, the universe was an asshole.

“O-kay,” Max refocused on me and kindly ignored the death grip I had on his arm. “You want to talk me through it if I can’t turn around?”

“It’s a guy.” My mouth rapidly firing out an explanation. “I dated him once and it was a complete disaster. I said I would call, but I never did. I’ve been trying to avoid him.”

I’m not sure if it was mention of my ex or my horrible
date
that made Max’s jaw clench, his body straightening as he reached over and touched my hand.

“Did he hurt you?” His voice rumbled as his mood darkened, the casual laidback guy from five minutes ago replaced by
Captain Fierce
.

“No, no of course not. I just didn’t think I’d see him again.”

I mean what were the chances. I’d banished myself from the gym even though my recurring “discounted” monthly fee was going to be charged for the next six months. And there was no danger of me losing my damn mind and welcoming the clean-eating-holistic-taste-like-ass lifestyle he seemed to subscribe to. So our paths should have no reason to cross.

In fact, why the hell was he here? Christina’s was literally swimming with bad food choices—ones loaded with butter and cheese—surely
those
would act, at the very least, as some kind of kryptonite? And if not why the hell didn’t we eat here instead of that massacre of a meal where we did.

“I think he’s seen us.” I cursed softly under my breath, the full restaurant dictating he had to wait for a table to come available. “Pretend we’re on a date.”

“Ahhh, Beth, we
are
on date.” He looked at me like I was insane.