Page 44 of Invisible String (The Underground #1)

RAINEY

M y head throbs as if I drank all night.

I only had two, okay, maybe three drinks.

It’s enough to give me a hangover, but I personally feel it’s a combination of the drink and Max, which equals a blistering, splitting headache—a two-day hangover.

I sit at my office desk at the café, reviewing tomorrow’s orders.

“You know how you yelled at the security guy who installed the cameras weeks ago?” Isabella peeks in with a bright smile on her pretty face.

The thought of the careless assholes pisses me off. Luckily, one employee from the office showed up. A young guy ordered the equipment they broke. “Uhh, don’t even remind me. Is the new mixer here? I’ll have to get the other one repaired, although it’s new.”

Her nose crinkles. “It’s not broken. Turns out we just never plugged it in.” She laughs, shaking her head.

Are we that stupid? No, it can’t be. What the hell?

My head tilts. “Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

“Huh. Well, I guess I’ll call them to cancel the order. I feel dumb.”

“I know. The mixer has already shipped.” She shakes her head. “Your sister is working the register, and I’m done with the last bread I baked.”

“I’ll drop off a check with the company and let them know what happened. It’s only fair.” My head is back to the stack of papers. She pulls a chair out and sits. She crosses her ankles and then uncrosses them.

“What is it?” I ask, flipping through each page.

“How was the gala?” She raises a brow.

I sigh, and my mind returns to the gorgeous man I am pushing hard not to think of.

How is it possible he looks so good? The way he danced was breathtaking.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought of Max dancing in a room full of people, twirling me around as if we were on Dancing with the Stars .

We stared into each other’s eyes romantically.

He’s different. I can see it in his eyes.

My walls were slipping. I was so close to asking him about his life.

What has he been doing? I hated that I felt relieved he wasn’t dating Annette, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t spending time with her like he was with me.

“It was okay…my…” I sigh. I can’t call him ex. “Max was there.”

Her eyes widen. She jumps out of her seat and runs out the door.

What the fuck? Isabelle knows everything. She’s like a mom you can lean on, and she gives her advice that she calls wisdom.

She’s back with her pan dulce and a cup of coffee. She crosses her legs, sets the coffee on my desk, and then rips the bread in half. “Okay, ready for the gossip. You may begin.”

I laugh so hard it steals my breath. “Okay, get comfy.”

For an hour, I spill it all out on the table. Isabella dusts her hands, then takes a sip of her lukewarm coffee. “I wish someone would dance with me that way. Aye, how sexy. I’ve seen photos of him online and on the billboards.” She fans herself silly.

I roll my eyes. Out of everything I told her, start to finish. She’s caught up on the dancing part.

“It sounds like he regrets it. Maybe you should at least listen to what he has to say. You don’t know if there is a good reason behind it.”

She has a valid point. But I really don’t want to know. Do I?

“He didn’t love me. If he did, even a small amount, it wasn’t enough for him to want me in any way.

I never had his number or knew where to find him.

He can’t pop into my life again for the second time now.

I built my walls from steel. I can’t fall in love with him again, Isabella.

I can’t let him in, only for him to disappear again and leave me.

It’s not happening. I’m more afraid of Max Cano than if a masked man were to chase me down an alley.

” My voice breaks. I take out a bottle of water to wash out my raspy voice.

“You’ve read too many books,” she says with a sigh.

We get back to work. My sister has been a lifesaver. I have two interviews tomorrow. She leaves next week. That gives me this week to get more help. The idea of a small bookstore and café was brilliant.

The door chimes open. I ignore it until I hear the husky, familiar voice. My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. Isabella’s cheeks go hot red when he responds to her. “Good morning.”

I’m definitely not looking his way. Why did my sister decide to take a break now? I’m stocking more cookies and pastries. My hands tremble, and it’s frightening how his presence makes me a total mess. Get a hold of yourself, Rainey. You idiot. Show no interest.

“Handsome, this young lady will help you.” From the corner of my eye, Isabella nods with a Cheshire Cat smile. “Rainey, I need to go to the back and check on the bread in the oven.”

Oh no, she didn’t. She speeds off before I can catch her. We have no bread in the oven.

“Good morning,” Max says.

I’m forced to look at him. God, he’s beautiful, mesmerizing, and those tattoos are dangerously delicious. The muscle upon muscle is orgasmic.

“What can I get you, sir?” I say flatly, ignoring the thunder in my chest.

“Today’s special. Chili beans and cornbread.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and gives me a small smile. His green eyes sparkle.

My lips go into a straight line. I fill a bowl with chili beans, add a sprinkle of cheese and sour cream, and garnish it with green onions.

I place a large slice of warm, buttered cornbread on a plate.

His gaze follows my every move. What the hell is he doing here?

Didn’t he get the memo the last two times we spoke?

“Thirty dollars,” I say.

He raises a brow. “Thirty? For a small bowl of chili and cornbread?” His gaze hits the menu.

“Yup. Prices went up as of this second. Can I get you anything else, sir?”

He fucking smirks. “I’ll have an iced tea from the cooler. I’m sure the price is worth it. What’s your name, beautiful?” He winks , and my ears grow hot.

What is he playing at? It doesn’t help that I want to melt into him.

“Rainey.” I take the debit card from him and tap it.

As he leans against the counter, his biceps bulge and ripple under his tanned skin as he supports his weight. Immediately, I want to curse my staff for leaving me alone with him. Well, besides a couple drinking a cup of coffee, deep in a conversation. He smells so good, like mint and aftershave.

“Rainey,” he says, my name like he’s testing it out for the first time. “It’s nice to meet you, Rainey. Can I ask you to join me for dinner?”

I shrug, playing his game. “Why would I want to date or have dinner with you when I don’t know your name?”

His eyes linger on my lips.

“Pardon me. My name is Max Cano.”

“Hmm. Do you go around picking up women everywhere you go?” Fuck. Now I sound jealous. Okay, maybe I am a little.

“No.” He watches me with heat in his smooth green eyes. “I’ve never met anyone worth asking.”

I roll my eyes. What a load of horseshit. Women would beg at his feet to be touched by him, especially if he’s been grinning like a fool since he walked in. The woman at the fighting grounds said so herself. He seems lighter; maybe it’s all those hits to the head.

“Here you go.” I hand him his debit card. “Sorry, sir. I’m not interested. Besides, I have a date tonight.”

His smile evaporates, and his jaw tenses. Is he jealous? Why? It’s been years. “With who?”

“I don’t need to inform you of my love life,” I hiss.

“Love life.” He says those words with disgust. His nostrils flare, and his fists clench on the counter.

“Yes. Love life. Max, you can’t just show up and expect me to tell you what I do with my life when you clearly didn’t want to be in it.”

His throat works. “With who?” he asks again.

The strings at my heart tug at how his eyes plead to know. I rub my wrist out of habit. He averts his gaze to where my hands are.

He sighs and grabs his food.

“Book boyfriend,” I blurt. The words slip out of my lips unintendedly.

Max cocks his head, then furrows at me. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I have a date with a book. You know, cuddle with a blanket and get lost in a book.”

His raised brows tell he’s still confused. “Why, boyfriend? Why not just say book?”

“A book boyfriend is a male character in the story who makes you feel gooey inside. Sexy, says the most perfect words, makes you kick your feet up. Long list.” I turn aside when a woman walks in. She smiles, and I return it. She marches right to a special edition that just came out.

“Huh.” He sweeps his stubble chin with his thumb. “Oh, all right. Maybe next time.” He takes a step back. “Enjoy your night.” He nods, then sits at a table. The sun’s rays glint on his golden skin, and the chiseled angles of his cheekbones and jawline accentuate his muscular strength.

“Here,” Isabella whispers. She hands me a napkin.

My nose crinkles.

“You’re drooling.”

I scoff. I am not. The right thing to do is to get back to work and ignore that Max is sitting less than a foot away. The espresso machine could use a cleaning. My brows quirk as Isabella adds two strawberry scones and a concha to a plate. She points to Max. I shake my head at her.

She mouths. “You overcharged him.” Then she fluidly sets it on his table. “Here’s a little treat. The owner just made them.”

He cranes his neck to her and bestows her with a warm smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. My husband loves watching your fights. Can I have your autograph?” She slides a napkin to him. An ego-boosting laugh vibrates from his chest.

Kiss ass.

“What should we watch?” Bethany asks, flipping through the same shows, repeatedly snuggling with a blanket on the recliner.

From the other sofa, lazily, I respond to her slothful, frowning face. “You’ve been giving me whiplash, flipping through it. Just pick something already. I’m going to read, anyway. I need to catch up on a series.”

My sister is the couch potato type of gal, while I’m the one who has gotten lost in books since I was small.

Bethany groans, snuggling deeper into the blanket until it covers her mouth. “I don’t get how you can read book after book.”