“Hey, Davis.”
“Maxwell,” I sit up and rub my eyes, trying to disguise my yawn and failing. “How’s it going?”
“Good. Good. We won today.” My man of few words.
“I’m glad to hear it. And congrats on getting the nod.” I reach for my tablet and click into my email knowing that I’ll be finding stats and charts that I’ll be expected to look at, along with the announcement that Maxwell is our Opening Day starter. “So…I hate to point this out, but we never finished our chat about ground rules. I’ll be joining the team in Detroit in a few days and we need to have a plan in place.”
“Of course we do,” Max grumbles. “I’m listening.”
“I had a lot of time to think about this on the flight today, so I’ve prepared some notes.”
“Of course you have…”
“First,” I ignore him, “I’d like to reiterate the noflirting policy, and to it I’d like to add no asking me out while on Seattle Olympians property – this includes stadium facilities and buses, and while we are traveling extends to the stadiums in which we are the visitors..”
“Point of order?” Max interjects.
“Are you mocking me?”
“Mercilessly,” I can hear the smile in his voice and wish I could see it. The man scowls so much when he’s in uniform or on the mound, that when he does – on rare occasions – smile, it transforms his face, softening every line. “Since we’re living together, is carpooling allowed?”
“We are not living together. I am a guest in your house.”
“Where are you living?”
“Semantics, Maxwell.”
“I’ve never been to Semantics, but I think you’re living in my house on Bainbridge Island.”
“Okay, yes. I’m living in your house. Does that mean we’re living together?”
“Yes,” Max answers just as I say…
“No. No, it means that you’ve invited me into your house on a temporary basis until I can find permanent residence somewhere else.”
“Answer the carpool question, Davis.” His voice is filled with barely restrained frustration and I have to admit, it’s kind of fun getting him riled up.
“Yes, we can carpool. It only makes sense.”
“Good, I’m glad we can agree on that. Now that that’s settled, I have a few house rules we need to talk about.”
“Okay?”
“I expect you to make yourself at home. No tiptoeing around me and Elise, no keeping to yourself, and no worrying about making messes or leaving anything around the house.”
“Max –”
“Nope. This part isn’t a negotiation. I’m not going to have you acting like you’re nothing more than a short-term guest. I want you to feel at home in that house, so take your still-packed box of kitchen items and add them to the collection downstairs. Unpack your books and fill the shelf in your room.”
“How do you know about the kitchen box?” I ask, looking from the bookshelf to the box I left near the door.
“Because I knowyou, Sutton.” Max’s voice takes on a dangerous growl. The kind of growl that makes me wish I was still in Arizona, his warmth curled up beside me instead of Loretta. “I know you, and I know that you took one look at my kitchen and worried that your stuff would be out of place. It’s not. And neither are you. Call yourself a guest, call it a short-term arrangement, I don’t care. But as long as you’re under my roof, I want you to feel like you’re home. Okay?”
“Max, you don’t want my Nana’s antique mixing bowls in your stainless steel kitchen.”
“Yeah, Davis, I do. So go unpack your box.”
“Fine.” I climb off the bed and press the phone to my ear with my shoulder, grumbling as I walk down the stairs with Loretta on my heels and my box in my arms, determined to prove to Maxwell that I’m not a fit here. “But I’m keeping you on the line while I do it.”