Page 17 of One Weekend in Vienna

ANNA

The ice is smooth under my skates, and I’m finally starting shake off the guilt that’s consumed me since my call with Felix, to lose myself in the glide as Max spins around and fixes me with his easy grin, waving his hand in a ‘come here’ motion. There’s a twinge between my legs and I can’t help my body’s response to him.

Once we arrived at my place, I felt kind of awkward about inviting him in. He had been quiet since we left the hotel, and I can’t help but wonder if it had anything to do with me saying this was just a one-night stand.

Although I can’t imagine that could be it. He’s Max Walker. He’s had to have lots of one-night stands. He should be happy I’m not chasing him.

Even though I said it was just a fling, I don’t know that it’ll ever feel like one in my heart. How can I possibly forget someone like Max? He’s so big and his presence is so commanding, I know I’ll never look around my cozy apartment without seeing him init. After he marveled at my pink gingerbread décor scheme and smirked over the childhood photos of myself and Felix, he pulled my favorite cozy blanket off the couch and made my body his again underneath the glow of my Christmas tree.

While I supervised the afternoon shoot, Ernst complained that Max and the model didn’t translate together as well as apparently Max and I had last night, and I couldn’t stop the little twinge of satisfaction that spread through my chest.

To be honest, I could see what Ernst was saying – while they were polite to each other, they were like perfectly gorgeous cardboard cutouts. I can’t say I was unhappy about it. Felix’s words have been interrupting my thoughts all day and it felt like an ugly green monster was sitting on my shoulder when Camila showed up for the campaign. I expect Max to be his usual flirty self, but he was all business, announcing that Ernst better get the perfect shots quickly, so he could get in some ice time.

With me.

When Max sets his mind to something, he gets it done. Ernst declared him the perfect subject and asked if he’d ever consider shooting a calendar. I’m not even surprised at this point that Max managed to charm one of the grumpiest, egotistical photographers in the business.

I push off a little faster, brushing past his outstretched arm as I take the lead. I can’t help smiling as Max’s laugh sounds behind me while he catches up. He snags the back of my jacket, pulling me back gently so that we’re hand-in-hand, when I hear an eager voice cut through the Christmas music. “Oh my gosh—are you… Max Carter from the Vegas Titanium?”

Surprised at the American accent, I glance over, spotting a man in his forties with a look of disbelief standing at the rink’s edge, a young boy by his side, wide-eyed and clutching a hockey puck like it’s gold. Max’s name might as well have been shoutedfrom a loudspeaker; heads are already turning, and some of the crowd has started murmuring. Just great.

Max pulls me over, flashing an effortless smile. He doesn’t even blink in the direction of people lifting their phones. It’s obvious he’s done this a hundred times. The little boy’s eyes light up like he’s just seen Santa Claus.

“You’re Max Carter?” he asks, his voice hopeful. “Like the hockey player?”

Max crouches down to the kid’s level, grinning. “That’s me. And what’s your name?”

“Danny,” the boy says, holding out his hand shyly when his father prompts him. Max takes it, giving it a gentle shake, then notices the puck in Danny’s other hand.

“Are you a hockey player too?” Max asks, nodding at the puck.

Danny nods, his eyes bright. “Yeah, my dad and I are here to watch the world junior game and I brought it just in case I ever got to meet a real hockey player.”

Max laughs, taking the puck and turning it over in his hand like it’s a priceless artifact. “Danny, I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” He leans forward, and the little boy’s eyes go wide. “If you have a stick and would rather wear skates than a pair of boots, you’re a real hockey player.”

Danny grins. “I have a bunch of sticks. And I have a Titanium t-shirt!”

“Would you like me to sign your puck?”

The dad, starstruck himself, digs out a marker, and as Max chats with them, signing the puck and tossing in a few hockey tips, I watch him thinking how cynical I would have been, even just yesterday assuming Max is just an attention whore, needing to charm an audience.

He’s definitely in his element, but there’s a sincerity to him that I chose not to notice before. Danny is chatting away to Maxlike they’re best friends, and Max is nodding sagely as Danny tells him about how he wanted a kitten, but he’s allergic so he ended up getting a fish, which is cool, but not as cool as a kitten.

I shift on my skates, and then I notice Danny is wobbling on his skates, trying to glide with crossovers. Max spots it, too. Without a second’s hesitation, he reaches out, steadying Danny with a firm grip and a few quiet words of encouragement. Something in his expression softens as he looks at the kid, like he actually cares, and I realize that maybe this is why his fans love him. He treats them like he’s just as excited about meeting them as they are to meet him.

Admiration, and something too delicate, too new to put a name to swell in my chest.

Max smiles over at me and offers his hand to Danny. “Tell you what—let’s try skating over there together. You can show me what you got, yeah?”

Danny is practically jumping with excitement, and Max skates slowly, patiently, helping him balance with every careful step, showing him the proper technique so his feet don’t trip over each other. I find myself watching, drawn to the way Max’s easygoing charm melts into something genuine, something real. He’s attentive, guiding Danny along the ice and keeping pace, his smile relaxed, his laughter unguarded.

I’m in big trouble.

The dad skates over to me. “Sorry to highjack your boyfriend,” he says with an apologetic smile. “He’s obviously really good with kids.”

My heart thuds. “Oh, he’s not—” I start, but before I can finish, Max skates back over with Danny still holding his hand.

“He’s not what?” Max interrupts smoothly, his eyes twinkling. He obviously heard what the guy said. “Desperate to finish skating with the most beautiful woman here?” He winks at me, looking like he’s enjoying every second of my discomfort. “Iam, just so you know.” He smiles down at Danny. “This lady here can outskate me, you know.”

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