The Bucket List Boyfriend (Boston Love #3)

Chapter 10

Maya

A SHRIEK on the other end of the phone has me pulling it away from my ear.

“He said what?”

Sophie can’t believe her ears.

“You heard me. How does he even remember what I wore to prom? That red dress was pretty freaking amazing though.”

There are advantages to having famous parents with fashion designer connections.

“You mean to tell me that serious, rule-following Max is a big flirt? A flirt who clearly has the hots for you. How did we not know this? He’s managed to keep that side of himself tightly under wraps. Along with his six-pack, apparently.”

“Sophs!” I already regret telling Sophie that I was drooling over his chiseled abs.

What I didn’t tell Sophie is that feeling his warm breath on my ear and listening to those words started stirring up all sorts of feelings.

If I wasn’t so shocked by his flirty statement I would have melted into a puddle.

“Oh that’s not the end of the story. What’s even more bizarre about Max’s personality transplant is that when I finally composed myself—which was the entire duration of his shower—and we left for the dance lesson, he acted like absolutely nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just dropped that bomb on me. He spent the drive chatting about World War II and the latest NASA mission.”

“Hmmm. Do you think he has a brain tumor?”

“That seems the most plausible reason why he would say something like that, but I don’t think that’s the case. He would have told me if he were dying. Plus, that seemed to just be a prelude to what happened afterward—”

“Wait! What happened after?”

“We ran in the rain to the car and then we almost kissed.” The words that I’ve been dying to share with Sophie spill out in a rush.

There’s more shrieking on the other end of the phone before she finally responds.

“Why almost? Girl, I’m dying here. I want the details. In the rain? That’s so romantic. Like a movie.”

“It actually was kinda romantic, except for the fact that our lips never made contact.” I sigh. “Somebody honked their horn and we jumped apart like two teenagers who had been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing.”

Sophie laughs.

“I can just imagine Max looking like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.”

“So what do I do Sophs?”

“What do you mean, what do you do? The next time you see him you plant a big ol’ kiss on his lips and tell him you want to have his babies.”

She makes smooching noises.

“Sophie! Be serious.”

I’m trying to sound outraged but I can’t help smiling at her response, because that’s exactly what I’d really like to do. And that thought frightens me.

What is happening to me?

More importantly, what is happening to Max?

“So…do you think this means something? Maybe his head was just a bit fuzzy after the salsa lessons. Salsa is very sexy after all. I’m sure all sorts of pheromones were being released in that room with everybody rubbing against each other.”

“You make it sound very dirty, Maya. But to answer your question, of course it means something! Max Fitzgerald is secretly in love with you.”

“Now you sound like Kate and Viola. Maybe he’s wanting a fling because we’re both single.”

Sophie bursts into laughter. “You’re being ridiculous. Have you ever known Max to mess with anybody’s feelings? He would never do that, especially not to you. I think he’s probably felt this way for a long time, and now he’s just letting it show.”

“I don’t know. That seems a bit far-fetched. He’s never shown even the slightest bit of romantic interest in me.”

“Weren’t you the one that told me even though he hasn’t been vocal about it, he’s quietly disliked every boyfriend you’ve ever had?”

“Well, yes, but he had a good reason to dislike Trevor.”

“Oh yes, I remember Trevor whatshisface. Didn’t Max have to come and bail you out of jail when you were arrested for underage drinking at Trevor’s out-of-control party?”

“Trevor Sandberg. And I wasn’t arrested,” I huff, setting her straight. “I was just temporarily detained, because on top of the underage drinking, they suspected I was involved in vandalism. I had nothing to do with Trevor egging that house!”

“But you were drunk and only seventeen,” she teases. “No wonder Max thought Trevor was such a bad influence on you.”

“Yeah well, he’s old news now. And Max’s feelings about Trevor have nothing to do with the current situation. I still don’t know what to do.”

She laughs. “Maya, did you or did you not tell me you had the biggest crush on Max in high school? This is the same guy who you said you were thinking about when you first made out with Trevor.”

“Keep your voice down! I told you that in confidence.”

I’m still a bit ashamed of that. The only reason I agreed to date Trevor Sandberg was because he was a fun guy and I thought I had no chance with Max.

That didn’t stop me from thinking about Max when I made out with Trevor. I’m a terrible person.

My eyes dart around and I’m relieved to see Alex is nowhere in sight, Viola is too busy working to care about my phone conversation, and Kate is out to lunch with Ben.

Sophie chuckles. “Relax. James went out to lunch. I’m alone in the office so your secret is still safe with me.”

I’m relieved to hear it, because the last thing I need is James knowing I was crushing on his brother in high school.

“Yeah, well. I got over that crush. Eventually.”

My defensive tone just makes Sophie laugh again.

“Maya, just because you may have dated some other guys, doesn’t mean your feelings for Max really disappeared.” She suddenly gets serious and lowers her voice. “Your whole world has always revolved around him. It still does. He’s your north star. I think you’re fooling yourself if you think those feelings just disappeared. I think they’ve just been…dormant.”

She has a point.

Max has only ever had two girlfriends, and even though they didn’t last very long, I still wanted to gouge out both of their eyes. I thought they weren’t good enough for him, but maybe there was more to it than that.

Maybe I’ve just buried these feelings so deep I don’t even recognize them anymore.

I sigh.

“Even if that’s true Sophs, and even if he does have feelings for me, how could we make it work? We’re like chalk and cheese. We’re so different. He’s insanely smart. He needs to marry like…a doctor, or a rocket scientist or something. And he is so handsome. He’s way out of my league.”

Sophie scoffs at that. “Oh please! He may have that sexy nerd look perfected, but you are gorgeous.”

I ignore that and list off more reasons why we couldn’t possibly work. “He’s calm and rock solid and I’m all over the place. I’m always chasing the next thrill and he likes to play it safe. And he’s a perfectionist. I’m sure I’d drive him crazy within a week. And then when it’s over, our friendship will never be the same. I may like to take risks, but that’s not a risk I want to take.”

“That’s a rather defeatist attitude for the most upbeat, positive girl I know.”

I run a hand down my face.

“Yeah, well…I guess I’m just trying to face reality.”

And that means I need to get a lid on these feelings that have recently started surfacing every time he touches me.

Or every time I look at his bare chest.

Or his delicious biceps…

See? I can’t help it. My brain just automatically heads in that direction, like I have no control over it.

“Girl, I think you need to reassess what risks you think are worth taking. But I won’t badger you. You guys will figure things out.”

I wish I were as optimistic as she is.

“Hmmm. Maybe.”

“I’d better get back to work, Maya. James has been like a bear with a sore head the last few weeks and if he gets back and finds me on the phone he’ll chew me out.”

“Good thing you know how to give as good as you get when it comes to James. I think he secretly loves that you stand up to him.”

“I think you’re right. Anyway, good luck for the competition tonight.”

I spend the rest of the afternoon trying to focus on my clients rather than on the butterflies I keep getting at the thought of seeing Max tonight.

This feels like high school all over again.

When I open the door, I have to make a conscious effort to stop my jaw from hitting the floor.

There have been a few occasions over the years where I’ve seen Max dressed up. He dressed up for prom and a few fundraisers. And of course I saw him in a suit for Uncle Reggie’s funeral.

But I’ve never seen him looking quite like this. For a moment, I forget to breathe.

Have you ever heard the phrase, that outfit is doing her no favors? Well, Max…his mono-chrome outfit is doing him all the favors. And I do mean ALL.

The tight black button-up he’s wearing is molded over his biceps, giving a hint of the gun show that’s under there. Those delicious biceps and pecs…which I’ve gotten to see quite a lot of in the past couple of weeks.

I’m not complaining…even though this is going to do my wayward brain no favors when it comes to keeping a lid on things.

He’s not the kind of guy who usually goes for the sleek, suave look, but tonight? Tonight, he’s nailing it. He even put his contacts in, and I know he hates wearing those.

With his gelled and perfectly styled dark hair, he could easily play the role of a South American lothario.

I lick my lips and try to get my racing pulse under control before I keel over.

“Hey. Um…you look—”

“Wow, Maya. You look —”

We both speak at the same time and laugh awkwardly, before Max pulls out a bunch of red roses from behind his back.

“You look incredible, Maya. Thank you for doing this with me.”

He leans forward and kisses me on the cheek.

His lips are warm, lingering just a fraction of a second longer than usual, and when he pulls back, I catch the scent of his cologne—something woodsy and rich, a perfect match for the confident way he’s holding himself.

I nod, trying to force my brain to form coherent words, but all I can think about is how close he is and how incredibly good he smells.

Butterflies—or maybe they’re a swarm of bats—flutter in my stomach, making it almost impossible to maintain the cool, collected exterior I’ve been working so hard to keep around him.

I should say something, anything, but my thoughts are a jumbled mess.

Why does he have to look so deliciously good tonight? How am I supposed to dance with him and not completely lose my mind? He looks like a dessert I want to eat.

I should return his compliment. Is amazing coming on too strong? Maybe I should just go with good.

“You, uh, you look pretty grazing…I mean, amazing yourself.”

There, I did it. I managed to get one coherent sentence out. Well, semi-coherent. Grazing? I want to smack myself.

What is happening to me?

Glancing up, I meet his eyes, and they’re full of that easy confidence, like he’s not aware of the chaos he’s causing inside me.

He’s just being Max—perfect, oblivious Max.

I want to tell him that his outfit is doing all sorts of things to my resolve. Bad, bad things. But I bite my tongue, because I’m supposed to be getting my emotions under control where he’s concerned.

And this? This is not helping.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the butterflies are still there, and they don’t seem to be going anywhere.

“Let’s go tick one more item off this bucket list,” Max says, offering me his arm as we head out.

We arrive at the venue—a swanky hotel in the heart of the city—about ten minutes before our beginners’ competition starts.

The energy in the room is electric, with couples twirling and spinning across the dance floor, the rhythm of the salsa music pulsing through the air.

I glance at Max beside me, and my heart skips a beat.

What has happened to my Max? He looks calm, even as we’re about to step into something that, let’s be honest, is way out of his usual comfort zone.

“You’re doing okay?” I ask.

“To be honest, I’m really nervous,” Max admits.

So maybe he is still the same Max. I don’t want him to feel nervous, but I can’t deny the relief that floods through me that he’s still the same Max.

“Really? You’re hiding it well. It’s going to be fine Max. We’re just going to have fun.”

The announcer calls our number, and Max takes my hand, leading me onto the floor.

The moment his hand touches mine, I feel a jolt of energy, like a spark igniting something deep inside me.

Normally I’m super competitive with things like this. But today I genuinely don’t care about winning. Even if we stumble our way through the dance, I’m with Max and that’s all that matters.

When the music starts, I anticipate having my toes stepped on once or twice as we get into the rhythm of things, but that’s not what happens. Not at all.

I’ve always known Max was capable, he just lets fear and the need to control things get in the way. But as the music starts and he guides me into the first step, I realize I had no idea just how capable.

He’s good. Really good.

His movements are smooth and confident, his steps precise, and for a second, I’m too stunned to keep up.

This is Max—the same Max who was stumbling around during our salsa lesson just a week ago. And yet, here he is, leading me like he’s been doing this his entire life.

His eyes are fixed on me and we move together in perfect sync, the rhythm flowing through us.

“Who are you, and what have you done with my Max?”

A hint of a smile touches his lips and as the music slows for a brief moment, he pulls me closer, his hand resting on my lower back. His minty breath is warm against my ear as he leans in.

“I had private dance lessons every day for the past two weeks,” he confesses, his voice just loud enough for me to hear over the music.

I pull back slightly, searching his eyes. “You did?”

He nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I even took a day off work to practice all day.”

I can barely process what he’s saying because all I can think about is how flawlessly he’s moving, how effortlessly he’s guiding me through this dance.

“Why?” I manage to ask, my voice barely a whisper.

His eyes soften, and for a moment, it’s like the rest of the room fades away. “Because you deserve a partner who knows what he’s doing. Plus, I know how much you like winning.”

The sincerity in his words takes my breath away, and for a second, I forget the steps. But Max is there, steady and sure, keeping us on track.

He’s not wrong. I’m as competitive as they come. I like winning, but I certainly wasn’t expecting that tonight. I meant it when I said I just came here to have fun with Max.

The thought that he would go to these lengths because he knows how important winning is to me makes my heart swell.

Emotions swirl inside me, feelings that I’ve been trying hard to keep under control. But here, in this moment, with his arms around me and his eyes locked on mine, it’s impossible to ignore how much he means to me.

Maybe Sophie is right. Maybe these feelings never went away and circumstances have just forced me to face them again.

The music builds again for the final note, and we finish our routine with a flourish, spinning together in perfect harmony.

The crowd erupts into applause for the couples on the dance floor, but all I can think about is the man in front of me, the man who faced his fears and went above and beyond just to make sure I had the best possible partner tonight.

When the results are announced and we come in third, I’m thrilled—partly because I’m just competitive like that, but mostly because Max did something so far out of his comfort zone, and I got to share this moment with him.

As we stand there, still catching our breath, Max pulls me into a hug, his arms wrapping around me like they belong there.

Then, he does something he’s done a million times before—he kisses my forehead.

It’s sweet, familiar, and comforting. But tonight, it’s not enough.

As his lips press against my skin, I find myself wishing he would just… kiss me. Really kiss me.

When he pulls back, I smile up at him, trying to mask the ache in my chest. But I can’t shake the feeling, the longing, that’s been growing inside me…and the fear that we’re just so different it could never work.