Page 16 of One Weekend in Vienna

He waves a hand at my wrinkled clothes from the night before and smirks. “You going to rock the runway look again today, or do you want something a little more comfortable?”

“I don’t have anything else,” I say, realizing that I’m going to be doing the walk of shame out of this room. Guilt and regret dig their claws a little deeper into my chest.

Max throws off the covers and swings his legs out of bed, crossing to his suitcase. My mouth goes dry at the sight of his naked body. The man honestly shouldn’t be real.

“Here,” he says, tossing me a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. “Try these. The pants have a drawstring inside.”

I catch them, the fabric soft and worn, and for some reason, the fact that he’s lending me his clothes makes my chest ache. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he says, leaning against the dresser with an easy smile. “What’s the plan for today?”

“I don’t know,” I say quickly, pulling the t-shirt over my head. It smells like him, warm and clean, and I push that thought away. I’m getting far too comfortable with the way Max Walker looks, smells, and feels. “Depends on the weather.”

“Well, I’m up for some more ice skating,” he says, and his puppy dog grin triggers a smile of my own.

“I bet you are. And we will be at the market today, so maybe after you get in that part of the campaign, you can hit the ice.”

“You’ll be skating with me, right?” He folds his arms over his chest. “You promised to show me a good time.”

I glance at the bed as heat crawls up my face. He catches my look. “I’m happy to spend the rest of my time here in bed. The viewispretty incredible.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I can’t help but giggle. “But if you’re forcing me outside, at least let me skate.”

My heart shouldn’t lift at the thought of spending more time with Max, especially after the call with my brother, but I feel like I’m floating as I take in his easy grin.

“My boss does want you to be happy,” I say.

His expression turns serious. “And what about you? Are you happy?”

I ignore the question and slide into his clothes. It feels normal and comfortable and so intimate to be wearing stuff that smells like him and I yank the drawstring tight, hearing Felix’s words in my head about Max’s reputation with women. Maybe he has so many one-night stands that he travels prepared, with extra clothes to hand out to all the women slinking out of his room the next morning. I swallow the sour taste in my mouth and turn to open the curtains.

“I have to head home to get fresh clothes for today,” I say, looking down at the trucks slowly spreading salt in the area.

He frowns, coming up behind me and placing his hands on my arms. “It’s still a sheet of ice out there.”

“I’ll be fine,” I say, resisting the urge to lean back into his warmth.

“Not happening,” he says, lightly squeezing me. “I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have to?—”

He drops a kiss to my forehead. “I want to,” he cuts in, his voice gentle but unyielding. “Otherwise, I’ll be worried until you get back.”

His words hang in the air, and for a moment, I don’t know what to say. He’s infuriating, sweet, impossible, and the worst person in the world to let my guard down around.

“Max, this …” I gesture between us, “thing that happened, it’s just a fling, right?”

I hold my breath, not entirely certain about the answer I want to hear.

Max stares at me for a minute. “Is that what you think?” he asks.

I nod, firmly. “Absolutely. It was fun, don’t get me wrong, but you leave tomorrow and it’s better if forget it ever happened.” The words taste bitter in my mouth as I watch the lines around his mouth deepen.

“Forget it happened.” His voice is flat

But part of me wonders if maybe, just maybe, letting him in wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

Still, I remind myself, he’s Max Walker. And I can’t afford to forget that.

9

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