Page 9 of Out Of Time

He watched as she got to work, moving on from the topic of hummus. Pulling cleaners from her cart, she sat them on the marble countertop before making her way to his room.

He called out to her, “I want to have hummus with you.”

His entire body heated. Overheated even.

She turned back and gave him a double-dimple grin. “Good. How does noon sound?”

“It sounds good.”

“What will you do until then?” she asked.

Max realized he didn’t know. Thiswashis house, but he felt like he needed to give Remi space to clean, or pretend to clean, or do whatever it was he paid her to do.

“Wait, I guess,” he said, and Remi playfully shook her head at him, her smile never faltering.

She had just started making the bed in the master bedroom when she heard the garage door open, the smart home announcing his arrival. He had snuck off at some point when she was mopping, and she honestly wondered if he would return for their beach picnic.

“Hey,” she called out, “I’m just finishing up your bed.”

He crept in quietly, lingering in the doorway of his bedroom, watching her as she pulled the top sheet up into place.

“It’s noon,” he said, and Remi didn’t miss the nervous undertones in his voice.

Turning to face him, she saw that he had a farmers market tote hanging from his massive arm.

“Whatcha got?” she said, hinting at the floral print tote she had seen for sale at one of the vendor booths this morning while she was picking up the hummus and pretzels.

“Oh, this?” he said, looking down at the bag. “I got the one with flowers. I thought you could use a new one,” he said, hinting at her battered old tote hanging from the barstool in the other room.

Remi pulled her bottom lip between her teeth to keep herself from smiling too big. Itwasjust a farmers market tote, but the gesture made her heart hammer in her chest. The thought of him choosing the floral tote for her and then proceeding to shop with it was an image she couldn't help but feel giddy over. Massive Max Miller, with his tight black Violent Gentlemen shirt stretching over his big chest, pulling on his biceps, walking through the Huntington Beach farmers market with his vibrant floral tote.

She wished she could have seen it in person.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, turning back to finish making his bed. “Thank you for thinking of me when you saw it.”

Before she realized what was happening, Max was at the other end of the bed, helping her pull the comforter up.

“I don’t sleep in here,” he said.

She didn’t stop what she was doing, she didn’t want to make a big to-do over him admitting it. It was obvious that he didn’t sleep in this bed, but she didn’t push back. Max would tell her things inhistime. She felt her role in this friendship was to just be safe. Safe enough that one day Max could share freely. Safe enough that one day Max might considerhera friend.

A new friend sounded nice.

“More of a couch guy?” she asked with a playful wink.

He took a moment before responding, placing the pillow she tossed him in its spot. “I think sleeping in a bed makes this all feel too official,” he said shyly.

This made her pause.

“What do you mean by that?”

Max ran his hand along the pillowcase, smoothing it out. “If I sleep in this bed, I’m afraid I might realize how this isn’t a proper home. It might make it more real how messed up it is that I have allthis,” he said, hinting at the house, the view, the beach, “and no one to share it with.”

“And why is that?” she asked, in the most welcoming voice she could muster. She didn’t want him to feel pressured to talk, but she also wanted him to know she was safe if he chose to.

“Why don’t I have anyone to share it with?” he asked, his eyes on her, laced with so much emotion she thought her heart might actually break for him.

“Yes, Max. Why do you keep this all to yourself when anyone would be so lucky to be invited into your space, andsolucky to get to know you?”

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