Page 26 of Second to None
A fleeting cloud of discomfort crossed Max’s face. “Let me just tell you the end of the story, because it shows how much your father’s men liked him. When Jake, your dad, walked back to where his company stood watching, Novak said, ‘Sir, we have volunteers for another test.’ Your father started to take off the body armor, but Novak stopped him. ‘No, sir. Every single Marine here has volunteered to shoot you.’ Your father cracked up.”
“So wanting to shoot at him means they liked him?” Izzy scrunched up her face.
Max nodded, making the firelight run along the dark waves of his hair like liquid flame, and then gave Emily an amused glance.
“I get it. It’s like when Tishawn calls Diego a—” Izzy stopped and threw her mother a guilty look. “Well, he calls him a bad name, even though they’re really good friends.”
Emily had to work hard not to laugh. “I can just imagine what Tishawn calls Diego, and I’m glad you chose not to repeat it.” She gave Max a rueful smile. “This is why Izzy comes to the center only twice a week.”
“Boys are weird,” Izzy said.
“I won’t argue that,” Max said.
“That’s very fair-minded of you,” Emily said. A buzzer sounded from the kitchen, and she stood up. “Izzy, you keep Mr. Varela company while I get dinner on the table.”
“Izzy, I think we should help your mom, don’t you?” Max said, holding out his hand to the little girl. She nodded and put her small hand in his. He pulled her to her feet and then straightened up from his chair, his height and breadth making Izzy look tiny. The contrast made Emily’s heart clench, because it reminded her of how adorable rough, tough Marine captain Jake had looked when he played with his small daughter.
“I love having minions,” Emily said to counteract the wave of bittersweet memory as she led the procession to the kitchen.
When Max flicked two hot pads off their hooks so he could pull the macaroni casserole out of the oven, she remembered his deftness around the kitchen back in North Carolina. He’d once revealed that he’d had to cook for himself as a teenager because his parents both worked odd hours. She was surprised he still pitched in. Billionaires surely had private chefs and various other genuine minions to do their cooking.
When he asked if she already had a trivet on the table to receive the hot dish, she must have looked astonished, because he shrugged. “It’s just chemistry. Varnished wood doesn’t respond well to hot glass.”
“Did you learn that in the lab or at home?” she asked.
He smiled but carried the dish into the dining room without answering.
Once the soup, mac and cheese, apple-and-cranberry salad, blistered cherry tomatoes, and biscuits were on the table, they sat down. Emily had positioned the main dish right in front of Max’s seat, so she was gratified when he leaned over it and inhaled with an expression of focused bliss. “It smells exactly as I remember it,” he said.
“The taste is more important,” Emily said.
He shook his head as his lips curved into a half smile. “Not necessarily. The aroma compounds interact with the olfactory nerve, which is linked to the limbic system, our primitive brain. So scent evokes emotion and memory in a powerful way. However, I look forward to eating it as well.”
She wanted to ask him what emotions and memories her mac and cheese brought to his mind, but instead she turned the conversation to his work. He entertained them with stories of various disasters in the labs where he’d worked through the years.
Emily let the velvet growl of his voice wrap around her like a blanket, sending delicious vibrations up and down her spine.
“That’s poppin’,” Izzy said, snapping Emily out of her delicious haze. “Maybe I’ll be a chemist when I grow up.”
Max looked baffled, so Emily translated. “Poppin’means ‘fun and exciting,’ and Izzy is not supposed to use such slang.”
Izzy wrinkled her nose. “Do you have to wear those weird-looking one-piece suits in the lab?”
“It depends on what chemicals you’re working with,” Max said.
“Could I design my own suit?”
“Why not?” He put down his fork and leaned back in his chair. “My compliments to the chef.”
Emily eyed the half-empty casserole dish. Max had taken a large second helping, so she didn’t doubt his sincerity. “I’m flattered by your consumption, so I’ll give you some to take home.”
Izzy slid off her chair and picked up her plate. “Wait until you taste my pie.”
Max rose as well. “I’ve been looking forward to it all evening.”
“I guess chemists have to clean up after themselves,” Emily said as Max balanced several dishes on his forearms and walked into the kitchen.
“Contamination ruins experiments,” he said, stacking the plates on the counter.
