When I Fall in Love(36)

As the doors closed behind him, he stared at her, a muscle pulling in his jaw, his eyes almost on fire.

She swallowed. “Two, please?”

He didn’t move. Then, “Yes. The answer is yes.”

Huh? “No, it’s not. The answer is no. No competition. And no more babysitting. I can take care of myself.”

“Well, I don’t want you to.”

He hadn’t moved, his brown eyes magnetic, still holding hers.

She swallowed again, her throat tightening, a band around her chest. When she opened her mouth, nothing came out.

His gaze roved to her mouth, then back to her eyes. He wore a terrible, almost-raw expression on his face. A tremble touched her, something deep she couldn’t place.

Or didn’t want to.

Abruptly, he blew out a breath and turned. Punched the button for the second floor. “I . . . I like spending time with you.”

His words slid over her, through her. “I like spending time with you too.”

His shoulders were rising and falling, and she watched them until they got to her floor. The doors opened.

Max didn’t move.

So Grace didn’t either.

The doors closed again.

“Why did you come to Hawaii?” he said quietly, the fierceness not quite vanished from his tone.

“I came because my . . . sister . . . bought me a ticket?”

“Why?” He folded his arms over his chest.

“So I could cater her wedding.”

“Why?”

She tasted the finest prick of irritation in her throat. “So I could . . . get noticed, I guess.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to start a catering company. I think.”

“You think?”

“What is this, a pep talk?”

“I want you to care. I want you to see that you could do this. You could enter this contest and win.” He tapped his hand to his chest, then gestured to her. “We could enter this contest and win. And then you’d have ten grand to start that company with. Maybe even get a little recognition. Don’t you want that? To finally reach your dreams?”

His eyes had reddened just a little, and she had the sense that he might be saying more with his challenge. Especially when he pinned her with a long look, something so unraveled, so desperate in it that it stripped words from her.

His voice lowered to almost a whisper. “You were the one who said you wanted more. What if this is it? What if it’s right here? Right now? Don’t you want to take it?”

Yes. The word wanted to leak out of her. Yes, she wanted more.

But it had nothing to do with cooking. So she nodded. Hoped her eyes, her face, hadn’t betrayed the truth.

“Then I’m going to help you get it.” He punched one. “We’re working all weekend.”

“No reading?”

“Not unless it’s ingredients.”

She wanted to smile, wanted to give in to the giddy rush of joy, but—“Max. Why are you doing this?”

The floor pinged and the door opened, but she didn’t move. As Max started to step out, she grabbed his hand. He turned, frowned.

Now he stood blocking the door, in case anyone dared enter. He met her eyes. “Because I come to Hawaii every year and hang out in the same class, and I’ve never met someone who wants to add cinnamon to haupia. That’s crazy, right? Crazy, and yet it sounds good.” He sort of smiled, shaking his head. “I almost want to be mad at you, but I can’t. How could I? So I’m going to help you. We’re going to win this thing, and you’re going to go home and start that company.” His voice softened. “Besides, I think everyone who gets to have dreams should reach for them. I want to help you reach.”

Oh. That was so much better than what she’d thought he was going to say. She’d thought he’d keep it simple, even light, nothing close to the heart—

“Besides, I’m your swim buddy.”

Yes. Yes, he was.



Just like that, Max had fixed it. Figured out a way to spend time with Grace without having to justify his reasons. Without having to admit to himself that yes, he enjoyed spending time with her—more than he had a right to.

In fact, he’d let that leak out and wanted to bang his head against the elevator when he heard the words emerge.

But the rest—the rest was all truth. Or at least most of it—right up to the part where he said he thought they could win. But . . . maybe they could. He did want to help her reach for her dreams. Did want her to feel the win, to create something that might endure.

In that way, maybe he, too, could own a small piece of a happy ending.

“So what are we making today?” Grace asked. She’d become all ears, no improv yesterday, as suddenly she took her own future seriously.