Page 38 of Unrivaled

Oh fuck. Grady startled into embarrassed laughter. “God, I really do.” Only Max could get away with saying that after such a serious conversation and come across as funny instead of dismissive.

“Like, buddy… that’s a problem.” He made an exaggerated grimace and then smiled and patted Grady on the hip. “Nice job until then, though. Ten out of ten, would lose a sex bet to again.”

Right. That reminded him why he was here in the first place. “Thanks, I think. How’s the rest of my report card?”

Max waggled his hand. “You’re not the world’s most hopeless case. You really only have one problem. It’s just that it’s a really big problem.” He shrugged. “You’ve got no people instincts.”

Grady opened his mouth to object… then closed it. “Oh.”

“Yeah. It’s pretty brutal. Which is weird,” he went on, rolling onto his back, “because it’s not like you have trouble reading people on the ice. But, like, your dates… have been bad.”

Understatement. “Believe me, I’m aware.”

“I don’t mean the dates themselves. I mean the guys you went out with. You had a bad time because you picked some real losers.” He rolled his eyes. “I mean, a guy who thinks ice cream should have palm oil in it?”

“Thankyou.” At least someone understood.

On the other hand, that someone was Mad Max. Maybe Grady shouldn’t feel too comforted.

“Speaking of people instincts, how do you feel about dogs?”

“Uh.” Grady blinked. He loved dogs in general. He was just wary of loving a single dog in particular. “I like them? But I don’t have time for one, so if you’re suggesting I get a dog to validate my taste in guys—”

“I wasn’t, but that’s not a terrible idea.” Max reached onto the floor for his shorts and pulled out his phone. “Electronic baby gate. Well. Puppy gate.” Then he whistled. “Gru! Come here, baby.” And, to Grady, as an afterthought: “You might wanna shield your junk, he’s not great about landings.”

There was the excited clack of nails on hardwood, then coming up the stairs. Then a midsize chocolate-colored mutt launched itself onto the mattress.

“Hi, baby. Did you miss me?” Max ruffled the dog’s ears as it licked Max’s chin. “You did, huh? What a good boy.”

Grady cleared his throat as a stubby tail covered in curly brown fur wagged in his face. “Should I give you two a minute?”

But as soon as the words were out, Gru turned his attention to Grady. He put his nose right up to Grady’s and sniffed him while Grady petted his shoulder. “Hi. I normally have more clothes on when I meet people for the first time.”

Gru smacked Max in the face with his tail stub.

“I guess you don’t mind.”

“He’s got low standards,” Max confided as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “And also he wants his dinner. Shower’s through there if you want to help yourself.”

“Thanks.” A shower sounded pretty good.

Max had good water pressure and about a thousand mismatched towels in his linen closet, some of which should be put out of their misery. Grady picked one of the nicer ones and stood under the fancy showerhead for an indulgent five minutes. Then he wiped the water from his face and reached for the shampoo.

The only bottle on the shelf readMen’s 3-in-1 Shampoo, Conditioner, and Bodywash. Grady couldn’t even identify a brand name.

“Oh Jesus,” he said out loud. “Why?” No wonder Max’s hair looked like that.

Reluctantly, he soaped his body—no way was he using that stuff on his hair—and rinsed off.

When he’d dressed, he went downstairs and found Max feeding Gru dinner from a bag labeledPremium Local Organic Dog Good. Grady’s head hurt. He wondered if Max bathed Gru at home. Gru had pretty nice fur. It was soft and glossy. There was no way the dog got washed with men’s three-in-one bodywash. He probably got pampered at the doggy spa with something that had oatmeal and jojoba oil or something.

Grady should stop thinking so hard about this.

But he couldn’t help it. “You’re out of shampoo.”

Max set the dog-food scoop on the counter and turned around. Grady had left beard burn on the side of his neck. “I just bought a bottle last week.”

“No.” Grady shook his head. He took a step forward and held out the bottle. “Thisis not shampoo. This has no business in anyone’s hair.” It had no business in anyone’s shower, but maybe he needed to start small. “You make millions of dollars a year. Why are you putting this on your scalp? Did the straight guys on your team get to you?”

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