Page 25 of Crush

“Bland children? I think we’re jumping ahead a tad. We were havingdinnerand that was it. Irrespective of him being a player that preys on young girls. I told himbeforeI agreed to go out with him thatthat’sall it was.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what you said. After he’s plied you with wine all night. In his eyes, he would have been hoping for dinner and a side of fucking. Now you know Hopton is a player.”

“So you say,” I replied with a smirk. “Any other character tip bits you think I should know?”

“About you or Hopton?”

“Either.” I knew it was ballsy to give him another opportunity to vent but I couldn’t help myself. Men didn’t usually stand up to me and no one told me what theyreallythought (not to my face anyway), apart from Mia. Who of course, saw me for who I was. And no, I wasn’t perfect. I had flaws, just not as many as Max had listed.

He didn’t need asking twice and his nostrils flared as he stated, “You’re opinionated and stuck up. You have a major issue with authority. You think the world owes you one—oh, and you have that rich bitch air around you.”

“Wow, that’s quite a list.”

I maintained eye contact until Max moved his focus up to my hair and his eyes narrowed. “You also scrape your hair back so tightly it preventsanyemotion from showing on your face.”

The hair comment was a low blow but I ignored it. The day I accepted Max’s opinion on my appearance would be err,never.

Fighting off an eye-roll, I placed my hand flat against my chest and feigned offence. “Ouch. Do you mind if I return the favour?” I exclaimed, now glowering at him with every ounce of annoyance I could muster. My reaction was rich considering I had asked for it.

He flashed me a detached smile before folding his arms across his chest, his legs slightly apart as he braced himself for what was coming. “Be my guest andplease, don’t pull any punches. I’m as thick-skinned as they make them sweetheart.” Thick-headed too!

I set my mind to bitch mode and pushed off the metal door, getting in his face, although not really considering the size difference. Raising my arms, I ticked each point off with my fingers. “You’re arrogant; believing the world revolves around you. You’re obnoxious and loud. You have no respect for personal space. You don’t listen. You dress like a thug and havewaytoo many tattoos and if tonight is anything to go by, you drink too much. You also have a poor memory.” I added the latter for him forgetting that first time we’d met.

Max stared down his nose, his body towering over mine and he appeared barely restrained. Some of my barbs had clearly hit their target. “And you’re basing my poor memory on what exactly? And don’t say forgetting to draft the bloody flood plan, which webothknow I did.”

“Before my father introduced us, we’d already met.” I was breaking all my rules by bringing that up as it would suggest that his forgetting the encounter had ruffled me.

A smirk appeared across his too handsome for his own good face. “We had? Well, you clearly weren’t that memorable darling.” Told you, the predictable sod.

I prodded him in the chest, and he moved back a step, his eyes dipping to where I touched him. “You were a pig that night and probably wasted which will be why you can’t remember it. I slapped your face.” I added the latter hoping to jig his alcohol-fogged memory.

Realisation dawned across his features and he was silent for a few beats before it hit him. “Ah, Shannon Hendrix’s party. That wasyou?” he said, uncrossing his arms.

Nodding, I said, “Yes. Unless getting your face slapped is a regular occurrence which wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Of course, now I remember. I tried it on a few times but you wouldn’t have it. You had a right stick up your arse that night. Well, you missed your chance, I remember I hooked up with a cute little blonde.”

Snorting, I replied, “Yes, I imagined you soon found another female to sew the hole in your wounded virility. So, to add to the list, you arealsoa player who is probably riddled, and—you smoke too much.”

Max glanced up at the sky, before rolling his shoulders and fixing me with a scorned look. “Anything else?”

“Amber?” Rory’s voice suddenly cut in from the other side of the door.

Shit. My eyes met Max’s. From his expression, he couldn’t give a shit that Rory was about to appear. Twisting, I pulled the door ajar and peered inside. My non-date was standing there with a puzzled look on his face.

“I thought you’d left but the waitress said you were in the loo. Are you OK?”

Forcing a smile I replied, “Yes. I’ll be there in a minute. I’m just talking to Max about some work stuff.”

His frown deepened as he tried to see further past the small crack in the door. “Outside?”

Pursing my lips, I thought on my feet. “Yes, he needed a cigarette. Be with you in five. Please order me two scoops of vanilla ice cream.”

He nodded and scuttled away. Pushing the door closed, I spun back towards my tormentor for round two.

“Vanilla? How disappointing. OK soI don’tknow everything,” Max taunted with sexual innuendo.

“Meaning?” I snapped, knowingexactlywhat he meant. The only place I liked anything vanilla was in a dish, but I wasn’t about to share my sexual pulls with him. “Well?”

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