I laughed. “Whatever.”
“No, no whatever.” Jason stood to his feet. “You have the same look Colt wore during my wedding—you know, when he wasn’t trying to kill Max. And the same look Max has whenever he looks at Becca, which, let’s be honest, he’s always looking at her, always touching her. My point is this, you’ve got it, that thing that no guy wants until they have it and then they can’t imagine life without it.”
I frowned. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“I’m empty.” He ran his hand through his dark-brown hair. “I’m going to grab another beer and shower. You should get ready too. You know how Max gets when we’re late.”
“One time, I was late one time!”
“And he made you sing Boyz II Men at the top of your lungs in Central Park as punishment. Epic moment.”
“Stupid YouTube hits.”
“Hey, that helped you get that spot in Phantom. Admit it, the camera angle with those birds flying around you totally launched your ability to make women think you could be both dangerous and dreamy.”
“Stop quoting USA Today.”
Jason snickered and walked off.
I stared at my drink. I needed to get ready, but where the hell was Jordan? And was Jason right? The smile was back. My face seriously stopped cooperating days ago.
Because every time I thought her name.
I smiled.
And every time I thought about her not being in my life.
My chest felt like it was going to split open and never fuse back together again.
“Shit.” I chugged the rest of my drink, and then because I still didn’t feel better, I said “shit” again.
CHAPTER THIRTY
JORDAN
I pounded on Max’s door, my anxiety getting worse by the minute. Reid, Jason, and Colt had decided to go down to the bar while Becca and Milo hit up the slots downstairs. I knew it would take forever to find the girls, and I could only hope that Max had one of their numbers so that I could call them and ask for help. Why hadn’t I realized I didn’t have anything good enough to wear for a night with Reid?
“Max!” Pound, pound, pound. “Max.” Pound, pound, pound. I waited and then—“Max!”
The door jerked open. Max was dressed for battle—dark skinny jeans with a dark V-neck shirt that should have made him look feminine but just showed off his lean body and bright eyes. “You’re late.”
My hand was still in the air, ready to knock on his forehead. “I’m sorry, what?”
Max checked his watch and sighed heavily. “I expected you five minutes ago.” He frowned and looked me up and down. “Hmm, you’re all out of breath—clearly your cardio needs work. Maybe join a gym when we get back and stop taking the elevator. Correction, stop taking the elevator once you get that epic elevator kiss. Until then, carry on.” He pushed the door open and held out his hand. “After you.”
“Where is everyone?” I glanced around the empty suite, feeling stupid for running to Max, of all people, for help.
“Told them I had an important meeting.” Max handed me a glass of champagne and took a sip of his. “And I do, now. Sit, sit.”
I had no other option but to sit, drink the champagne that had apparently been waiting for me for the past five minutes, and stare openmouthed while Max pointed to the chair opposite me, on which sat a black garment bag.
“Yours.” Max yawned. “I hope you don’t mind, but before the trip I snatched one of your dresses while you were sleeping in order to get the right measurements.”
“Sure, why would I mind that you snuck into my room stalker style and swiped one of my dresses for your own personal amusement? Nothing weird about that.”
“Oh, good.” Max nodded. “Glad we’re on the same page.”
Was anyone ever on the same page as Max? I’d really like to know. I made a mental note to ask Reid later.
“Well . . .” Max handed me the bag. “Don’t just stare at it. Open.”
I set my glass down and excitedly unzipped the bag. It was a gorgeous Dolce & Gabbana dress in my size.
It was lacy and red.
I couldn’t focus on anything else other than the fact that something red and lacy—something gorgeous, with a crazy price tag—was within my reach.
“Lace doesn’t bite,” Max whispered. “But fun fact, it makes Reid want to, so there’s that.”
“It’s . . .” I gulped. The front of the dress dipped really low, low enough that my boobs would definitely be having a good time tonight. The waist was tight while the rest of the skirt spread out in a cute sweetheart style.
All in all, it was something I would have picked for myself had I wanted to spend almost two grand on a dress.
Though I would have chosen black.
And possibly gotten a scarf to cover up.
Or a parka.
“How’d you know?” I gently caressed the lace dress. “How’d you know I would panic and not want to wear anything I brought?”
Max grabbed me by the arms and turned me very slowly to face him. “I have something to tell you.”
“Wh-what?” I’d never seen him look so serious, all hints of amusement were gone.
“I’m from the future,” Max whispered. “And I’ve traveled back in time to find you the perfect dress and save the planet from flesh-eating aliens masquerading as bad hair.” He grabbed a piece of my hair. “Oh, look.” With a tug he pulled it out, then hissed.