“So what do you do to entertain yourself in here at night in between customers?” he asks casually.

I sigh internally because that pulsing vibe of attraction that was just here is absolutely gone, but I’m bolstered somewhat by the fact that Max’s attention on me is no less focused.

“Um . . . let’s see. I’ll often read People magazine so I can stay up to date on celebrity news, or I’ll just surf on my phone, but I have to be careful because my data plan isn’t very big and there’s no WiFi here. Oh, and I like to play a game when customers come in . . . I try to figure out what their life story is just by what I observe about them.”

“For example,” he prods me.

“Well, that kid that was just in here . . . I think he’s from a fairly well-to-do family, probably private school judging by his clothes and car. On his way to a party and he stopped in here to grab beer for the night. In fact, I bet the party is in one of these huge developments with the mega mansions and he’s on his way there, probably hoping to get laid by a cheerleader or something.”

“But he would have bought condoms,” Max points out. “Actually, I think he had a date tonight and was stood up . . . and he’s depressed and came in to buy beer so he can get drunk and drown his miseries.”

“You’re a romantic,” I say with a grin.

“I can be,” he says softly, and that causes me to flush warm again.

God, I can’t even remember what it means for a guy to be romantic.

The door to the store opens again. Max pulls his cap lower and we watch as a woman of about fifty walks in wearing a black tank top with white bra straps sticking out. Tight jeans and tattoos up and down both arms. Her eyes are done with blue eye shadow and lips are bright red. She weaves a little, clearly drunk.

She orders two packs of cigarettes and without a thank-you walks back out. We both watch as she gets on the back of a Harley driven by a big burly guy with a long gray beard.

I turn back to look at Max and he laughs. “That’s way too easy. No fun in trying to figure out her story.”

For the next fifty minutes I am thoroughly entertained by Max. We make up people’s life stories and in between I read him snippets from People magazine. I find him witty with an amazing sense of humor, and I laugh more than I have in a long time. Our conversation is casual and not very deep, but it is very easy and I appreciate that more than he’ll ever know. That electric pop never happens again, but I expect it’s because Max is being respectful of me, and he’s showing me what a nice guy he is.

And God . . . he’s so nice.

At midnight I lock the doors and turn off the outside lights to indicate we’re closed. Max waits patiently as I zero out the register and fill out the paperwork that goes with it, before putting the cash into the safe.

It’s when he follows me out of the store, waits for me to relock the doors, and then walks me to my car that I start to feel nervous.

I open my car door and slide into the driver’s seat while Max rests his hand on the top of the door and peers down at me.

“You work again on Monday, right?” he asks.

I nod, putting my keys in the ignition.

“I’ll come see you then,” he says.

“You don’t have to—”

Max cuts me off. “I’ve got an away game tomorrow in Boston but I’ll be back Sunday. Give me your phone number.”

“What? No,” I blurt out, wondering why he would possibly want to come hang out in a convenience store with me or even want my number. Getting involved with me is a terrible idea, and why he can’t see that is beyond me.

“Yes,” is all he says as he pulls his phone out. “Give me your number.”

I weigh my options, but before I can even give adequate consideration to the first option—which is to refuse him again—he narrows his eyes at me and says, “I’ll just get it from Chris. You know he’ll give it to me.”

I try to be mad or affronted that he’s being so pushy, but damn it . . . his smile and dimples are so fucking persuasive, I give him my number.

I do it with an eye roll, but I give it to him all the same.

Chapter 5

Max

I wait until four p.m. to call Jules. I had to force myself not to call her yesterday in order to concentrate on our game in Boston. And normally I never have a hard time locking the world out and focusing on my job in the net when it’s game day. In fact, I’m usually so focused on game day, I barely speak to anyone else.

But yesterday morning as I was sitting on the team plane for our flight to Boston, I actually pulled my phone out. I came perilously close to dialing her when Hawke threw himself down in the seat next to me and without even so much as a “Good morning” proceeded to fill me in on the saga of him and Vale. This did not include exact details but he told me grimly that Vale finally revealed why she broke up with him seven years ago, and that they had worked that out. He then told me with a stupid grin on his face that makeup sex was awesome, and then, with amused chuckles, about how one of his hookups showed up at his house with Vale there.

I winced because that did not sound funny.

He jabbered at me until the plane door closed and I was forced to put my phone into “airplane mode,” the call to Jules averted.

Fuck, I wanted to hear her voice and see if that connection we’d made the previous night was still there, but I also didn’t want to come on too strong with her. When she told me at Sweetbrier that it was not a good time in her life, I took that as a clear indication I had to proceed slowly with her. She had so much on her plate and so many worries on her mind and I did not want to add onto that. It’s why I kept things light and friendly that night I hung out with her at the convenience store.

So I forced myself to give her some space and I finally got my head in the game on Saturday. It’s a good thing too because we’re still in preseason, and while I think I’m the favorite for the starting goalie spot, I’m not locked in either. I got the call for the start Saturday night and I played fucking fantastic, managing to go all three periods without thinking about Jules once. And that is how it should be. When I’m in a game, I should be focused on that.

But I’m not in a game today so I can put my attention elsewhere.

It’s Sunday and I’m not going to let another day pass without at least letting her know I’m still interested. I busied myself today with working out, getting my house cleaned and grocery shopping for the upcoming week. I did my laundry and watched some golf on TV. Then I got up, got in my car, and drove to Tony’s Pizza.