Page 26 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
Max shakes his head, amused, but doesn’t say a word this time. Which might be worse. I barely notice the waitress leave and return with my pie and a to-go cup of coffee for Max.
The check lands on the edge of the table, and before I can even reach for my wallet, Max has it in his hand. Smooth. Like he already decided.
“Hey—” I start, but he just raises a brow, that steady look that dares me to argue.
“I’ve got it,” he says, sliding his card across without hesitation.
My stomach flips. He didn’t even blink. Not friends grabbing dinner. Just…him paying.
“That’s very…date-like of you, Calder,” I murmur, leaning back in the booth, letting my grin go sharp.
He smirks, green eyes flicking up to mine. “Call it a holiday gift. Don’t get used to it.”
But his foot nudges mine again under the table, slow, deliberate, and my heart does that roller-coaster drop all over again.
I grab my to-go pie, gripping it as if it’s a lifeline, but it doesn’t stop the thought burning in my head. Not a date. Not a date. Not a?—
Yeah. Sure. This is a fucking date. Even if he doesn’t admit it. And I’m going to kiss him. Even if he pushes me away, I will regret it if I don’t try.
We step out into the night, and the cold air slaps me right in the lungs, stealing the breath from me for a moment. The snow’s coming down heavier now, soft flakes catching in Max’s dark hair, melting against the slope of his cheek. I loop the pie handle over my wrist and shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching out and brushing them away.
The diner door swings shut behind me, leaving Max and I in that muffled quiet only snowstorms can pull off. It’s eerie and peaceful all at once, as if the world has folded down to just us.
His shoulder brushes mine as we fall into step on the shoveled path. Too close to be accidental. My stomach is a knot of sugar, nerves, and want.
He doesn’t say anything for a few beats, just takes a long pull from the to-go cup in his hand, breath fogging the air. “Thanks for dinner, Starling. I needed that.”
God, his voice. Warm and rough, letting me see a part of him that he doesn’t show most people. I look at him, at the cut of his jaw, the pink on his cheeks from the cold, and my heart pounds.
I’m going to kiss him. I just need—hell, I don’t even know. Maybe I don’t need a moment. Maybe thisisthe moment.
The path is empty, just us and the snow falling softly around the glow of the lampposts. My chest is tight, my pulse is hammering, and every step feels as though it’s carrying me closer to something I can’t walk back from.
Max slows, glancing over, and our eyes catch. Just a flicker, but it’s enough to stop me cold. He looks unfairly hot like this—dark hair sticking out and mussed from his beanie, lashes catching snow, that careful strength in the set of his shoulders, always braced for the next hit. And still, somehow, he’s here. With me.
I don’t think. I can’t. My heart leaps first, my body follows.
I step in front of him, blocking the path, my breath clouding the air between us. “Max.”
His brow furrows, about to ask what’s wrong, but I don’t give him the chance. I grab the front of his jacket and pull him down into me.
The kiss crashes between us—warm and desperate and a little clumsy at first. My pie dangles from my wrist, probably ruined with all the jostling, but this is way better than sugar. His mouth moves against mine, sure and steady, as though he was only waiting for me to close the distance. His hand comes up, cupping the side of my neck, thumb brushing the edge of my jaw, and the world tilts.
Snow swirls around us, glittering under the lamplight. My toes go numb, the cold biting at my fingers where they clutch the paper bag, but none of it matters. Not when my other hand is fisted in the front of his jacket, holding him close.
None of it matters. Not when he’s kissing me back. Not when I feel him smile against my mouth, like maybe he wanted this too.
I break for air, breathless, my forehead resting against his. “So…” I whisper, my voice shaking but lighter than it’s been in weeks. “Guess that answers the date question.”
He huffs a laugh, low and warm, his thumb still stroking my skin as if he can’t help it. “Yeah, Starling. Pretty sure it does.”
TEN
MAX
So yeah.It’s a date.
I knew it the second he looked at me across that booth with whipped cream on his lip, grinning like he had me figured out. I knew it when I paid for his burger and pie without thinking twice. And I really knew it when he grabbed me by the jacket outside the diner and kissed me as if we’d been heading toward it all night.
