The Summer Proposal by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

I smiled. “That’s thoughtful. Thank you.”

“So tell me about your date tonight. Was he a total dud, or did he just pale in comparison to the first guy you met?” He winked.

“Real Adam was very nice.”

“Nice?” Max’s cocky grin widened. “So it sucked, huh?”

There was a napkin on the table in front of me. I crumpled it up and threw it at him. He caught it.

“I think it’s time for your turn in the hot seat,” I said. “Tell me about the woman you slept with recently. Is she someone you’ve been seeing?”

“It was just a hookup. For both of us.”

“Uh-huh.” I sipped my drink. “Let’s talk about that. Do those happen often? I mean, you’re a professional athlete and a good-looking guy—not to mention you spend a lot of time on the road.”

Max contemplated me. “I told you that if you gave me a second chance, I wouldn’t lie to you again. But I’d also rather not paint a picture of something you won’t like. So I’m just going to say I don’t have a hard time finding someone to spend time with, if I want to. But just because it’s easy, and I’ve lived a full single life, doesn’t mean that’s how it has to be. I’m sure you could walk into just about any bar in this city and leave with a guy, if you wanted to. Doesn’t mean you’ll do it if you’re in a relationship, right?”

“No, I guess not.” I shrugged. “But there must be something wrong with you. Tell me your worst qualities, Max.”

“Damn.” He blew out a deep breath. “You’re really looking for a reason not to marry me, aren’t you?”

“If everything you’re saying is sincere, you’re too good to be true. Can you blame me for waiting for the other shoe to drop?”

He rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip, then sat up and planted his elbows on the table. “Okay. I’ll give you some dirt. But afterward, I want to hear more of your dirt.”

I laughed. “Okay. It’s a deal.”

“Shake on it.” He extended his hand, and when I put mine in his, he closed his fingers and didn’t let go. “Awww…you want to hold my hand.”

I shook my head. “Out with it, Pretty Boy. What’s wrong with you?”

Max’s face grew serious. “I can be obsessive and somewhat compulsive. What normal people might call drive turns into overdrive for me. I can lose focus on everything else in my life, including my own health and all the people around me, when I want something bad enough.”

“Okay…well, I guess that makes sense, considering your career. I’ve never met a professional athlete before, but I have to imagine having a fervent drive is part of what helped you get where you are.”

“I also have an addictive personality. Hockey is my drug of choice. But it’s why I don’t drink much, and I keep away from drugs and gambling. In college, I ran up a debt of twenty grand to a bookie. My oldest brother had to bail my ass out, but not before he flew to Boston and kicked it.”

“Oh goodness. How big is your brother?”

Max laughed. “I’m one of the smaller Yearwood boys.”

“Wow.”

“So…did I scare you away yet? So far you’ve had me admit I had a hookup recently, got arrested while naked hula hooping, have an addictive personality, and sometimes forget the world exists when I’m focused on hockey. What’s next? Me telling you I have an irrational fear of lizards and that I once peed my pants when I was nine because my brothers brought home six chameleons and hid them in my bed?”

“Oh my God. Is that true?”

Max hung his head. “Yeah. But in my defense, you shouldn’t show a four-year-old Godzilla. It can leave scars.”

The thought of this enormous man being afraid of a tiny lizard was absolutely hilarious. But he’d won me over with the open way he’d answered my questions. He still had my hand locked in his, so I squeezed and decided honesty was a two-way street.

“You were right. I was fishing for a reason to not see you again.”

“And did you find one?”

I shook my head. “Flaws don’t scare me. You not knowing you have them or refusing to admit they exist would.”

“So does that mean we’re heading to Vegas?”

“Not quite.” I laughed. “Is it my turn now? To tell you my worst qualities, I mean? Because I’m not sure I stressed how annoying my competitiveness can be when I mentioned it earlier. Like, I threw that napkin at you, and you caught it, and it’s killing me that you didn’t throw it back so I could catch it, too. And now I also want to tell you all my other bad qualities so mine can be worse than yours. But I’m thinking maybe I should finish my drink before I continue with my laundry list, in case you make a run for it.”

Max shook his head. “Nah. You don’t need to tell me anything. I already know your worst quality.”

“You do, huh? I’m almost afraid to ask. What is it?”

Max’s eyes met mine. The intensity in them was undeniable, and it set off a fluttering low in my belly.

“Your worst quality? Easy. I believe you said his name was Gabriel.”





CHAPTER 3




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