Page 23 of Summer Swoon
CHAPTER9
Eve
I lookedaround Max’s apartment, still a little shocked that I’m here. The last time I went to a guy’s place after a date, it was a dorm room. So this is all new territory for me. Although I’ll admit that the fluttering in my belly isn’t totally due to nervousness. Anticipation is mixed in too.
My libido has been taking a nap since my divorce. One look at Max and it’s not only awake, it’s acting like a hyperactive child.
“I have Summer Shandy, Twisted Tea, or Mike’s Hard Lemonade,” Max said from the kitchen area. “Or if you want non-alcoholic, Sprite or water.”
“I’ll have a hard lemonade.”
“Would you like a glass?”
“No, the bottle is fine.”
He removed the caps, tossed them in the trash, then joined me on the other side of the counter and handed me the bottle.
“This is a great space.”
“Thanks.” He led me toward the French doors on the other side of the living room. “Pop helped me design it. I’m happy with the way it turned out.”
I took a drink, resting my elbows against the railing and taking in the view.
“You’re right, the view is amazing from up here.”
“It was especially amazing the other night when I spotted a certain someone walking toward me on the beach.”
Max held his bottle up in a toast then took a drink. My face heated and I flashed a shy smile then looked back out at the ocean.
“I totally understand why Aunt Winnie never came back to Scranton. This place suits her perfectly.”
“What about you?”
I shifted to face him.
“What about me?”
“Does it suit you?”
I shrugged.
“I think it’s safe to say it suits me perfectly right now. The change of scenery is nice.”
He nudged his head toward the Adirondack chairs and we stepped back and took a seat. The view is slightly obscured by the railing, but it’s still impressive.
“Have you been able to write?”
“Not yet, but I think I’m getting there.”
I explained my newfound plotting process and how I feel the words on the edge of my brain, but can’t put them to paper just yet. Or computer, as the case may be. I’m sure he has no idea what I’m talking about…non-writers usually don’t…but he listened and actually seemed interested.
“I’m predicting that once you get started, you’ll finish this book in record time.”
“Say that louder so the universe hears,” I said. “But let’s not talk about writing anymore. It’s boring.”
I tipped the bottle to my lips and drank the last of my lemonade. I felt Max watching as I swallowed and shifted my eyes in his direction.
“I don’t think anything about you is boring,” he said. “In fact, I find you fascinating.”