Page 95 of Puck Me Secretly

It was pathetic how the moment Max showed up, I became acutely aware of my heart and how hard it beat in my chest.

I forced myself to pull my gaze off Max. I chatted with people like my life depended on it. I laughed at everyone’s jokes. I ate appetizers and drank two glasses of white wine.

Unable to stop myself, I kept lifting my head and searching the room for him. Each time I did so, it was as if he could sense my stare, and he’d lift his blue eyes to me. We didn’t smile or wave or do anything you’re supposed to do when you met someone’s eyes repeatedly across the room.

I drank in the sight of him and in turn, he blasted me with looks so intense, I thought I might self-combust.

It was unnerving and thrilling.

The party got more boisterous. The copious amounts of alcohol flowing made the laughter grow louder, and the conversation was at such a fevered pitch it was almost difficult to hear.

I set my wineglass down and made my way through the kitchen. Congregated around the kitchen table, the wait staff feasting on the leftover appetizers while the cooking staff cleaned up the kitchen.

They all froze when they saw me.

“Don’t mind me,” I kept on walking. “Only passing through.”

No one spoke while my boots echoed on the hardwood floor, but the moment I stepped through the hallway that led to the laundry room, library and gym, I could hear the chatter start again.

I was finished with this party. Done with small talk. Done with smiling until my face hurt. It was almost midnight. These parties lasted into the wee hours of the night. I was already counting the hours until I could climb into bed.

I stepped into the library and didn’t bother turning on the light. I knew this room like the back of my hand. I sank into the big leather couch. The cool leather against my bare legs made me gasp.

“I’d recognize that sound anywhere.” A deep voice spoke from behind me.

CHAPTER 35

I spunaround to see shadowy Max standing in the doorway of the library. I reached over to the lamp and clicked it on.

We both blinked in the light.

“What are you doing here?”

He stepped into the room, as his eyes took in the expanse of bookshelves, the expensive leather furniture bought for comfort and reading and the cozy touches that were distinctly Mom’s touch. My eyes, on the other hand, watched only him.

“Just wanted to see where you were stealing away to.”

I flopped back against the couch. “Welcome to my favorite hideaway.”

His eyes didn’t move from my face. “I like it.”

“Are you having fun?”

“Define fun.”

“A jolly good time?”

“Christmas isn’t my favorite holiday.”

“Who doesn’t like Christmas?”

He avoided the question. “Have you read all these books?”

“Only the ones on my bookshelf.”

“You have your own bookshelf?”

“Of course.”

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