Page 52 of Party Favors

“Absolutely,” I assured him. I had no idea how I was going to make it work, but I would.

“Anything I can do to assist you, let me know,” he said, and I was worried about the ways my subconscious mind might find to take advantage of his offer. “She also mentioned that they’re giving her a hard time about who is officially throwing the event. According to etiquette guides, which are very important to them, it’s supposed to be a distant family member or a friend who throws the shower for her.”

I was going to suggest he do it, given that they were cousins, but if her in-laws were traditional, they probably wouldn’t want a man to be the host. It seemed like such a stupid thing to get upset about, but if I could help ease Sunny’s mind, I would do it. “Tell her not to worry about it. I’m now her friend, too, and I’m throwing it for her.”

Now Max was the one reaching across the table to take my hand, and while I told myself to calm down, I did not listen. His palm was so warm and firm.

“Sunny is the most important person in the world to me. It means so much to me that you would do this. Thank you.”

I was ridiculously happy to just bask in the glow of his approval and gratitude. His hand tightened around mine and I loved the way it felt to hold hands with him.

“What can I do to repay you?” he asked, his voice soft and enticing.

I’d happily take payment in kisses, but I wasn’t going to say as much and put myself in that kind of awkward position. He was just grateful to me, he wasn’t making a move.

My overstimulated glands did not care, though.

We were interrupted by our waitress bringing out the next course, beef cheek ravioli with black truffles, and I was both glad for and annoyed by the interruption.

The food was so exceptional that we both ate in silence for a bit, and I contemplated what was happening to me. I barely knew this man. Why was I so ready to pledge my allegiance to him?

Probably because everything I did know, I really liked. He was smart, kind, down-to-earth, and thoughtful, loved animals, admired hard work, cared about his family, had a good sense of humor, and was a perfect gentleman.

That wasn’t even taking into account his fallen-angel face, which had been created solely to tempt me.

If Meemaw ever met him, she would force me into a shotgun wedding with him.

And I wouldn’t object.

The rest of the dinner seemed to fly by, while Max entertained me with stories from his job, things he and Sunny had done when they were children, and best of all—stories of what it was like to live in Monterra.

Dessert was something called torta Barozzi, which was a dense, flourless chocolate cake flavored with coffee, rum, and almonds. It was one of the most sinful things I’d ever put in my mouth.

After my first bite I let out a little groan of delight and briefly closed my eyes. When I opened them again, Max had fixed his hot, intense gaze on me, watching my mouth move. His eyes flicked up to mine, and I saw hunger and wanting there. My blood sizzled in response, my breathing growing labored.

But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. Making me think it had been a figment of my imagination.

Bartolomeo came out to see us after dinner was finished, and we both lavished him with praise, which he could not get enough of. “No, please, it was my pleasure, you don’t need to thank me,” he said, while waving his fingers to let us know that we should continue.

After we’d sufficiently complimented and thanked him, Max and I stood up to leave. Since he’d comped our dinner, I didn’t feel right about lingering and keeping the table from a paying customer. I told Bartolomeo that I would be in touch soon, so long as the client approved him as a vendor, but that it would all be very last minute.

“For you, cara mia, I will clear my schedule.”

“Thank you again for everything,” I said as he walked us out.

“Di niente. It was nothing. Buonasera con il tuo ragazzo.” He kissed me on each cheek, shook Max’s hand, and then we went out into the wintry evening.

I didn’t even feel the cold, though. I was glowing on the inside. “What did Bartolomeo say?”

Max gave me a playful smile. “He said, ‘Have a good night with your boyfriend.’”

My cheeks were bright red, I just knew it. I didn’t know how to respond without making a bigger fool of myself, so I just stayed quiet. It was actually flattering that Bartolomeo thought that someone like Max would be interested in dating me.

Totally unrealistic, but nice nonetheless.

I was thankful that Max didn’t make fun of the situation or ask me what I’d said to Bartolomeo that had led him to believe the two of us were together.

“Is it all right if I walk you home?” Max asked, which was going to bring our evening to a close. It made sense, given that I hadn’t planned anything past this point.

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