The next time I saw Max was Monday evening when we literally ran into each other. He looked surprised, which told me he hadn’t planned it. He approached our front steps from one direction while I came from the other. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me because I was a sweaty mess. He really didn’t need to see me in such a state.

Then again, he was sweaty, too.

The difference was he looked sexy. Why was this man so gorgeous? I wondered if there was a single situation in which he wouldn’t look like a million bucks. I usually didn’t go for guys who had just been out running. Where was the appeal? A sweaty man was a sweaty man. But Max looked good enough to eat, even when the front of his long-sleeved tee was soaked and he was out of breath.

The first thing that came to mind was the thought of him being sweaty and out of breath in bed. Damn hormones, trying to get me in trouble.

“You’re a runner?” he asked, taking off his headset.

I shook my head. “Only when I feel like punishing myself.” He didn’t need to know I was doing all the last-minute working out so that I could to tighten up before the party.

He chuckled. “Come on. Exercise isn’t punishment.”

“So, you actually like running?” I asked, cocking one eyebrow.

“Hell, no. I hate it. But all the cool kids are doing it.”

I had to laugh because he was right on some level. It seemed like all my friends were runners, even Megan. “Why do you think that is?” I asked as we climbed the stairs together.

“It’s the ‘in’ thing to do. Like organic food, coconut water, green juice”

“Well, I’m not really an ‘in thing’ kind of person. I may never run another step unless it’s to chase the delivery guy if he forgets part of my order.”

He laughed as we got on the elevator. “I think you have the right idea.”

I checked him out when he wasn’t looking. If running was what gave him that body, I would never discourage him. I couldn’t help but admire his thick, toned legs, his firm butt, his broad shoulders, the way I would admire a work of art. And that was all it was, sheer admiration. Just observing and admiring and not fantasizing at all.

I grinned. “I don’t like running, but I do like my coconut water. I have a bunch in my fridge. It’s one of the best things to drink if you want to hydrate naturally and boy, I sound like a commercial.”

He was kind enough to hide his smile. “I’m sold. I’ll buy a case.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet. But seriously, do you want one?”

“Yeah, I’ll come over for coconut water.” He spoke slowly, quietly. His eyes seemed to bore into me. My skin got all tingly. My skin must be so red.

“I hope you don’t think this is, like, a thinly-veiled attempt at seduction,” I babbled. Oh, God, Mimi. Shut your dumb mouth. Too late. I had already blurted the whole damn thing out.

He blinked, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. “Wow.”

“I’m sorry…”

“No, don’t be. Wow.” He stepped off the elevator, then leaned against the wall. “Not a seduction attempt. And there I was, thinking coconut water was code for something else.”

“Could you not, please?” My cheeks burned with the heat of a thousand suns.

“No, really. This is a big moment for me. I never thought of coconut water was an aphrodisiac until this moment.”

“I really don’t fancy going to prison for killing you.”

He grinned. “I’m just disappointed, is all.”

“Shut up. I’m going home.”

“So, no coconut water?”

I turned around, starting down the hall. “If you really want some…”

He chuckled. “Oh, I want some.”

“Coconut water, damn it.”

“I know. I really like it. It’s my favorite.”

I bit my lip hard to keep from laughing as he followed me to my front door. “I have half a mind to tell you to get your own coconut water.”

“I could get my own, but I bet yours is better.”

I opened my door, holding it open for him against my better judgment. “Careful, or you’ll end up drinking it alone.”

“Got it.” He followed me inside, and I saw him looking around. “This is nice.”

I sighed. “Nice is another word for small.”

“Big is overrated. It’s how you use it.”

I thought of myself straddling him and how big and thick he would be under me. “Are we still talking about apartments?”

He smiled slowly. “What do you think?”

Something was happening inside me. “Do you still want that coconut water?”

“Yeah, I do. I came all this way and everything.”

I giggled to myself as I pulled two cartons from the fridge, then checked out my reflection in the microwave door before going back to the living room. Not, too bad. Not too bad at all. I found him sitting at the piano.

“Do you play?” I asked, handing him a carton.

“Not a note,” he admitted. “I was admiring the piano itself. It’s beautiful. Not to sound ancient or anything, but they don’t make them like this anymore.” He ran his hands over the keys—gently, soundlessly—then closed the lid. “It’s really nice.”

“Thanks. It was my grandmother’s.”

“Oh, really? You hauled it all the way up here?”

“Whoever hauled it up here did it when she first moved in,” I corrected.

“This was her apartment?”

I nodded, looking around. “This was hers. Sort of my second home when I was growing up. She moved here after my grandfather died. He was still young. Hit by a car on his way out of the office one day.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It was really hard for her, even though my mom and aunt were grown up. Their house was too big for her to live in on her own, so she sold it and bought this place.”

“And she gave it to you?” He rested his hands on the piano lid. “Along with this?”

I nodded again. “It’s sort of all I have to my name, in a way. Actually, more than in a way. It’s all I have.”

He opened his coconut water and took a long gulp. I had to laugh at the way he grimaced. “I fucking hate coconut water,” he admitted, shaking his head.

“No kidding? You hide it so well.”

“I keep telling myself I’m wrong about it since so many people like it. I have to be the one who’s wrong if it’s so popular.”

“I feel that way about kale,” I admitted.

“Oh, my God! I hate kale!”

“I know! It’s disgusting.”

“I thought it was just me.”

“Me, too.”

“So we’ve both been running and eating kale and drinking coconut water even though we don’t like it.”

“I actually like coconut water,” I reminded him.

“And I secretly like to run.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

He chuckled, standing. “Thanks for this,” he murmured, holding up the carton.

“You don’t even like it,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, well, it was worth swallowing something disgusting if it meant I got to hang out with you for a minute.”

I pressed my lips together. “I’ve been spending too much time with you,” I muttered, shaking my head in disgust.

“Why do you say that?” he asked as he opened the door.

“Because I just thought of a dirty joke to make there.”

He paused, thought it over, then smiled before walking out into the hall. “You’re learning.”