Page 21 of The Ruthless and the Strong

“Why?”

He shot me a look. “I thought you would need a ride to the dealership.”

I frowned a little at that. “I could call an Uber.”

“With Hunter? Wouldn’t he need a car seat?”

“Well, yeah, but I could install that in minutes.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier if I drove you there?”

Oh, yeah. That would be easier and harder for completely different reasons. Hanging out with Max for… however long it would take me to run this errand was not something I’d ever imagined myself doing. It wasn’t something I’d ever imagined him doing for me. Mostly because the possibility of us together in any capacity was a foreign one to me.

Even if he had kissed me on my wedding day, for so long he had been nothing more than my secret crush. My first love. I didn’t know how to merge that image I had of him into this one, where he was volunteering to do something for me because it would be inconvenient for me otherwise.

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” I asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked casually, and again, I found myself wondering if our kiss from that many years ago had affected me more than it did him. If, while I had been spending the entirety of my marriage to another man comparing all his kisses with that very first and only kiss Max had given me in the heat of the moment—and finding those kisses from my then husband to come up short—Max had forgotten about it as quickly as he would have forgotten about a minor character in a mediocre play.

I looked down at my coffee cup in disappointment, melancholy hitting me. No matter how many times I told myself that I had grown up from the little girl with a crush, I still didn’t feel it, and this right here was the reason why.

I’d never forgotten about him.

“I don’t know, Max. I’d hate to intrude on your time. I’m sure you’ve got other important things to do at work.”

He shrugged. “It’s been a slow week.”

I looked at him then, not sure if I actually believed that. Was there such a thing as a slow week for a man in his position?

“Trust me, I wouldn’t offer to help unless I could.”

“But why?”

He frowned at me. “Why what?”

“Why are you offering to help?”

“That’s a silly question. Why wouldn’t I help you? We’ve known each other for years. I thought we’re friends.”

Was that what we were? Friends? I’d never thought the word could sound so ugly.

“We are,” I said quietly. I wondered now if that was all we could ever be to each other. How pathetic was it that I would take being friends with him over being nothing at all? Like a puppy looking for scraps and being thankful for it.

“Then it’s settled. Let me do this for you. Okay, Lizzie? It’ll be more convenient considering you’ll have Hunter along, and that way, you’re not entrusting your son’s safety to the hands of a stranger.”

He got me there. And, I realized, I didn’t want to say no to him. As stupid as it was to spend time with him, to open old wounds, I still didn’t want to say goodbye.

So I did something stupid. I nodded and smiled at him, and I said, “Okay.”

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