Page 31 of Wrong Idea

Why the hell did he keep coming back?

“Talk to me, Max.”

“I met him at the spa,” I shared, ignoring the heat in my face.

“What?” I could hear the scowl in his voice.

“Remember how I decided to treat myself to a massage?”

“Yeah.”

“I booked one at the spa in the resort on my day off.”

“At the resort? That space is gross.” Stan made a face, and my lips twitched. Somehow, he made me feel better. But that was the magic of grumpy old blunt Stan.

“It’s not that bad.” I shook my head, “He walked in, and I thought he was a masseuse…”

“Did he?—“

“No!” I defended. “He didn’t do anything wrong, Stan. He was a total professional, but it was my first massage, so, what the hell did I know?” I shrugged. “After that, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

“That doesn’t happen to you,” he noted, and lines formed at my forehead.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Because I know you, kiddo. You aren’t boy crazy. Not even when you were a teenager,” he reminded me and shrugged. He wasn’t wrong.

“I guess,” I sighed. “A couple of days later, I saw him at Pine and Grind, and I don’t know.” I shrugged. That day felt like a lifetime ago. “We talked. It was nice and… I liked him. I thought we hit it off, and the rest was history. We’ve been seeing each other for the last two weeks, a little more than that.”

“Two weeks, huh?” He stared at me.

“Yeah. He was… I don’t know, so attentive and sweet.”

“Sweet? Carver Storm was sweet?”

“I know.” I sniffled, laying my head on Stan’s shoulder. “I don’t know how it was possible for the guy I’d heard about?—“

“But you really didn’t know? I mean, you called him Car. He didn’t lie about his name.”

“No!” I exclaimed, and he looked at me like I had grown an extra head. “I had no idea. I thought it was short for Carter or Carson. I don’t know.”

“But you cleaned his room. He saw you. You said you talked to him.”

“I said sorry and hurried out with a bunch of towels and bedding in my arms when I rushed out with the cart. I didn’t even look at him,” I explained.

“Was he nice to you?” Stan asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

“Nice?” I repeated. The tip of my nose stung with unshed tears. “He was the sweetest most kind person I have ever met,” I whispered, fighting from crying. I had to hold it together. Stan hated crying.

“Carver Storm can be sweet? Who would have thought?” he said again, this time slightly playfully. I knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but I simply nodded.

“He would text me throughout the day to check how I was doing, sending me corny little jokes. And…”

“What?” he asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Don’t get upset.”

“Oh god, is this a sex thing? Because if it is, I really don’t need to know.

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