Page 114 of Dr. Bad Boy

“Thanks. I’ll let you know for sure by Saturday." I give him a quick hug and let myself into my apartment.

I leave a trail of clothes from the front door all the way to my room in my haste to get to Max’s on time. I grab a quick shower, but skip washing my hair. I don’t have time to blow it completely dry and it’s too cold to go out with it wet.

I spent the whole drive home contemplating what to wear. My first instinct was to go for sexy, because I’ve missed him and I want him. But my desire is eclipsed by uncertainty. We’re still on very rocky ground and while I’m cautiously optimistic about what tonight will bring, I need to keep something of myself back.

I settle on a comfy pair of jeans and a cream cashmere Henley shirt over one of the Agent Provocateur bra and panties sets we bought in Montreal. Once I’m dressed, I quickly scrape my hair into a French braid, then throw on my winter coat and boots. I eye the bag containing Max’s gifts on my way out and decide to leave them for now.

As I get closer to Max’s house, my stomach starts to twist and I feel a little shaky. I shouldn’t feel nervous. He’s expecting me. But feelings are never overruled by logic, so I take deep breaths and concentrate on the road.

I realise where my nerves are probably coming from once I arrive. I don’t know what’s expected. After a moment of indecision, I park in front of the garage.

Max opens the door before I get up the walk. He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow. “Problem with the remote?”

“No. Just wasn’t sure where I should park.”

“Always inside the garage, Violet. This is one house where you never have to ring the doorbell.”

He takes my hand, pulling me inside and my face heats with the memory of the last time we did this. I half expect to feel his hand in my hair and my body pressed against the cold wood of the door. Instead, he drags me through the living room and into the kitchen before I even have a chance to take off my boots and coat.

There is a sea of pots and pans and dirty dishes.

“You cooked?” I ask, shrugging out of my coat. I lay it on the back of a chair and toe off my boots.

“For you.” He gestures to a chair at the table, pulled out and facing him. "Have a seat."

I’m stunned. I had no idea his culinary skills extended past breakfast. Then it occurs to me that maybe they don’t. But I hope they do, because while I could probably choke down almost anything, I’m just not a good liar.

“Thank you.”

He pulls a bottle of sparkling apple juice from the fridge and pours two wine glasses full before handing one to me.

“What time is your train on Saturday?”

I couldn’t ask for a smoother opening. “I’m not going.”

He looks up sharply and raises that damnable eyebrow again. “Why not?”

My heart beats fast at the possibility of rejection. I take a sip from my glass and carefully set it down on the table. “If you were to ask my parents, they’d tell you it’s because of the storm that’s supposed to arrive tomorrow night. But that’s only a small part of the reason.” Pausing, I take another sip of my drink and keep my gaze lowered. I can’t look at him and still get this out.

“The big reason is because I want to spend Christmas with you.” The hammering in my chest speeds up and my vision starts to darken at the edges. Closing my eyes, I take a long, slow breath. When I open them again, Max is crouching in front of me, his face inches from mine.

He takes my hand. “Are you okay?” he asks. His brow is furrowed and he looks worried.

I can’t trust my voice right now, so I nod, focusing on my knees. He’s not given me any response, and I’m feeling a little foolish.

He tucks a finger under my chin and tips my face up until I meet his gaze. “I’d love to spend Christmas with you, Violet.”

Taking my hand, he stands and tugs me up from the chair. “Come with me, I’ve got something to show you.”

We walk upstairs toward the empty bedroom at the end of the hall that's full of boxes. Except when we get to the door, the boxes are gone, the room is empty except for the world’s biggest teddy bear parked in the corner.

I have no idea where this is going or how to respond, so I just smile and wait.

“I didn’t want to decorate and furnish it without you, and when I saw the bear, I knew he was perfect.”

“He’s…huge.” What is going on? A giant stuffed animal is grand gesture-esque, but we’re still on thedo we spend holidays togetherlevel.

“I named him Bob, but that’s negotiable.”

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