Page 28 of Party Favors

And it was the second instance where Max had been protective in the short time I’d known him.

“You don’t have to walk me home,” I said after we’d walked for a bit in silence while Basta sniffed every available surface. I thought I should give him an out. He had done his princely duties for the evening and could go home. There were plenty of people out and about. I would be safe.

But I found myself holding my breath, waiting for his response. I realized that I wanted him to stay with me and was actually worried about what he might say.

He came to a stop and considered my words before responding, “I know I don’t have to walk you. I want to.”

I tried pressing my lips together and couldn’t help but smile at his words. I wondered if being gallant like this was a Monterran thing. Even if he was one of those guys whose moms had taught him to be chivalrous and polite and that was the only reason he was still hanging around me, I would take it. I wanted the opportunity to spend more time with him.

Obviously I wasn’t ever going to see him again after tonight, so I realized I should probably enjoy it while I could.

“Shall we?” he asked, and he offered me his arm.

It was so old-fashioned and romantic that I had to swallow back the nervous but excited lump in my throat. “We shall.”

CHAPTER NINE

Max was so warm and strong. It took every ounce of willpower I possessed not to lean against him completely.

I cleared my throat and said, “Thank you for rescuing me. And for paying for the drinks.”

He raised his fingers slightly, like he was waving my words away. “Consider it payment for the pleasure of your company.”

His eyes went wide as he seemed to realize how that sounded. “I didn’t mean, that is to say, I meant, it was a small price to pay for getting to spend time with you.”

I couldn’t help but smile. I liked him flustered. I bet this happened sometimes when English was your second language.

“I feel bad that you paid for beers we didn’t actually drink,” I said.

His arm seemed to flex under mine and I tried not to get distracted by it. “I was more interested in talking to you.”

“So was I.” Now I was the one tripping over my words. “To you. Not to myself. Not that I ever talk to myself.”

Great, now I was the one who was flustered.

Being so close to him was obviously scrambling my brain. I needed to talk about something, anything, else. “When you came up to me at the bar, what did you call me?”

“La mia lei.”

“That’s pretty. What does it mean?”

“It means ‘my her.’ It’s a way of saying that out of all the women in the world, you are the only one who belongs with me.”

While I knew he didn’t actually mean me and was usingyouin a more general sense, I couldn’t help the flapping that started up in my stomach.

He went on, “Italians and Monterrans are notorious for their paroline dolci. Sweet words. We make fun but we all use them for the people we love.”

I internally sighed as I tried to imagine what it would be like if I were the woman Max felt that way about.

“So besides birthday parties, what other kinds of events do you do?” he asked, and I wondered whether he kept asking me questions because he was curious about the answers or because I kept getting lost in my own thoughts and daydreams about him and wasn’t holding up my side of the conversation.

“I work on mostly corporate events.”

“Like the kinds at hotels where you sit around and listen to people talk?”

“Yep.”

He had to redirect Basta, who saw something that interested her and pulled against her leash. “I’m getting the sense it’s not your dream job.”

---