Page 7

M ax sat anxiously awaiting Remi’s arrival early the following Wednesday morning. Over the last week, he had gone back and forth, trying to figure out how he would handle their last encounter. He knew an apology was in order for scaring her with his half-naked surprise attack. And he knew he needed to thank her for helping him out after he had tripped and broken the lamp. But no matter how many times he played today out in his head, he knew he would never be ready to confront her. Because she was Remi, and he was, well, he was awkward.

He had showered, styled his hair, put on cologne, and hoped this cleaned-up version of himself would help diminish the memory of the last time she had shown up to his house and found him asleep on the couch.

The smart home announced her entry, and he stood to greet her, putting his nervous hands into the pockets of his dark blue Levi’s. His heart hammered in his chest as she rounded the hallway corner and entered the open living space; travel coffee mug in hand as she dragged her rolling cleaning cart behind her. She noticed him immediately, the small smile on her face giving him instant relief over the situation.

He let himself enjoy the single-dimple smile she gave him before he took a step forward and cleared his throat. Words escaped him, and he had practiced what he would say to her late into the night for the last week. He had memorized the apology for the way she had found him, only now, the words were gone.

“Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise?” she said, eyeing him up and down. “Good morning. Clothes look good on you, Max Miller, you look handsome,” she added with a playful wink, breaking the awkward silence he often lived in.

He frowned at her compliment, not expecting it.

“What?” she asked with a laugh. “You don’t agree? You can always strip down to your undies if it’ll make you more comfortable. I’m no stranger to that version of you.”

He felt his face blush. She was teasing him, but she was also admitting she thought he was handsome, which shouldn’t shock him, but it did. He knew he took pride in his appearance: He wore trendy t-shirts, clean Vans, and fresh dark jeans with a nice cuff, keeping his thick red hair and beard manicured. He knew he tried to look good, embracing the West Coast style, but being told he did by a woman like Remi, someone who wasn’t a puck bunny; that was new. It caught him completely off guard.

“I actually wanted to apologize to you for what you walked in on last week. That’s why I’m here,” he offered.

Remi rolled her eyes, but her smile never faltered. “Is that the only reason you’re here? Is it not because this is your house? Or because you knew I would be here today, and you think I’m awesome? Bummer. I thought you just really liked my company last week.”

“I do… I did… I’ve just, I really wanted to properly apologize about it since then. It was unprofessional of me. I should have known you were coming and put on pajamas or slept in my own bed. But I didn’t have a way to reach you, so I’ve just been …” He paused.

“Let me guess, you’ve been beating yourself up over it ever since?”

“Yes. That,” he agreed.

“Why am I not surprised?” she asked, walking over to set her coffee on the kitchen island.

“I don’t know, why aren't you surprised?” he asked.

“Well, Max, if I'm being honest, and I have a bad habit of being extremely honest, sometimes to a fault, I would say that you come across a little… anxious.”

His heart raced. Was it that obvious?

“I’m just quiet.”

“Okay, call it what you will, but it didn’t offend me at all. It was boxers, some men wear smaller bathing suits than that. Trust me, I’ve walked in on far worse things than hockey players in their undies in this profession,” she said with a smirk before looking around slowly to take in his house in its pristine shape, as per usual.

“It won't happen again,” he said, standing there awkwardly, unsure what came next.

“I wouldn’t mind it if it did,” she said teasingly, wiggling her eyebrows at him, then added, “We’re both adults here, I think I can handle a little skin.”

“Well, it won't happen again. I can assure you. I even bought pajama pants to make sure of it,” he said.

“Please tell me they have like, Shrek on them, or baby Yoda or something.”

This made Max blush instantly thinking back to his trip to Target. It felt like she was in his head because he had looked at the pajama bottoms with silly characters and wondered why any grown man would wear pajamas with cartoons on them, but maybe he was wrong to be so judgmental. Was this something women actually liked?

He corrected her, “It’s Grogu.”

She scrunched up her nose. “What is?” she asked.

“The baby Yoda. His name is Grogu.”

Remi laughed. “Oh, yeah, Grogu. I knew it was something like that. He’s so cute, I want one.”

Max just nodded his head in agreement. He had also thought while watching The Mandalorian , that he wouldn’t mind a little baby Yoda as a sidekick.

“So, tell me, Max, what do you have planned today?” she asked, leaning back against the island countertop. “You had a pretty big win last night, and now the day off. You hitting the beach? It’s absolutely gorgeous outside.”

He didn’t know what he planned to do now that he had apologized, and Remi was ready to clean his already clean house. He would typically work out, have a nice meal, then watch a show or a movie.

“I haven’t gotten that far,” he admitted.

“Not a big planner?” she asked.

“I honestly couldn't think past this conversation.”

“Rough stuff, Max. I promise you I’m fine. You can forgive yourself, there are far worse things in life than half-naked hockey players, I promise.”

“Well, I am sorry, for what it’s worth. I wish you had a better first impression of me.”

“It was an amazing first impression, are you kidding me? Honestly, it was the boxer briefs for me. I’m a sucker for them,” she said, then added, “And now… we never speak of it again.”

He watched as her cheeks flushed, and for the first time he saw Remi act a little shy—her blue eyes managing to look like the ocean up against the blush of her cheeks. This made Max nervous, noticing eyes and blushing cheeks, and Remi; her presence alone made him feel weak in the knees.

“I should go,” he said quickly.

Remi brought one foot to the other and kicked off her battered black and white checkered Vans. Her toenails were painted bright coral. “Pretty sure it’s your house. You should stay. Keep me company.”

Him? Company? Had she not suffered enough of his awkward pauses and clumsy eyes on her? Was she some kind of glutton for bad conversation?

“I’m not great company,” he admitted, pulling his hands from his pockets to wipe them anxiously on his jeans.

“Oh, I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I don’t think I can stand around and watch you clean,” he said.

Remi looked around, raising her hands in question. “I don’t think you’ll have to. Your house is clean enough to eat off the floors, Max. I seriously don’t understand why you keep me employed.”

He didn’t either, but if keeping her employed meant seeing her from time to time on Wednesdays, he would gladly write the check himself.

“I got fresh hummus from the farmers market this morning and a bag of pretzels,” she said, pointing to a battered bag hanging off her cleaning cart, one of the straps hanging on by a thread.

He glanced over at it, then back at her, unsure what she wanted him to do with this information.

“I could share it with you,” she offered.

“For breakfast?” he asked, unsure if he liked the idea of hummus this early, before coffee even.

“Or lunch.”

“But lunch is hours away.”

Remi looked at him incredulously, wrinkling her nose. “Do you want to have hummus with me or not? Because if I don't share it with someone, I’m likely to eat the whole tub of it alone. I have zero restraint when it comes to any kind of dip situation.”

“You don’t have anyone else to share it with?” he asked.

It wasn't what he meant to say. What he meant to say was, why me ? He didn't understand why she would want to share anything with him, especially her time, let alone her hummus.

He was so bad at this.

This was why he played hockey and kept his head down.

He wanted the hummus, sure, but he wanted her company even more. But what was in it for her? Awkward conversation with a grown-ass man. A man who hadn't dated since college. A man that couldn't articulate that he wanted the damn hummus.

Remi rolled her eyes and shook her head at him. “I have plenty of people I could share it with, Max, but I offered to share it with you .”

He watched as she got to work, moving on from the topic of hummus. Pulling cleaners from her cart, she sat them on the marble countertop before making her way to his room.

He called out to her, “I want to have hummus with you.”

His entire body heated. Overheated even.

She turned back and gave him a double-dimple grin. “Good. How does noon sound?”

“It sounds good.”

“What will you do until then?” she asked.

Max realized he didn’t know. This was his house, but he felt like he needed to give Remi space to clean, or pretend to clean, or do whatever it was he paid her to do.

“Wait, I guess,” he said, and Remi playfully shook her head at him, her smile never faltering.