Yep. Max was hot. Tall, dark, and handsome. Literally, he was all of those. Dressed impeccably, no less. After apologizing incessantly, he insisted I give him my number and meet him for a drink after work. Slick, right? That's what I thought, too.

It was all super fun until Ry showed up. And seriously, did he plant a homing beacon in my shoe or something? I still don't know how he found me. It wasn't like I told him where I was going-our dry erase calendar was noticeably void of any of our social plans. Then Ry shows up and instantly comes over to introduce himself to Max. Before long, they're chatting and laughing like long, lost friends, resulting in Max inviting Ry back to his place at the end of the night.

The third one was the strangest because I went to the gym-a place I hate and only go because Sarah tells me scary stories about young people dropping dead and ending up in the ER because they don't exercise regularly. And yeah, I know that exercising regularly isn't the same thing as once a week. I thank my birth parents-whoever and wherever they might be-for giving me good genetics and the ability to eat just about anything and not get so large that I end up needing a crane to remove me from my home.

While I'm at the gym, this cute guy's little silicone earbud thingy rolled right over by the toe of my shoe. Of course, I picked it up and handed it to him. He was the one who gave me that megawatt smile and introduced himself. Dean-great name, right?-told me he'd come over to where I was planning to use the elliptical machine once he'd finished his run on the treadmill.

So what happened to that one? Well, I caught sight of Dean making his way over to me just as Jack and Ry were exiting the racquetball courts. Ry caught up with Dean, they exchanged a few words, each of them glancing over at me before Dean's expression paled. Immediately, he swiveled in the opposite direction of where I was and disappeared. Ry and Jack waved at me, both flashing me wide smiles, and exited the gym.

I still haven't managed to get any information out of either of them as to what happened with Dean.

Come back to the present, to right now where Simon hasn't said one word to me in approximately twenty-two minutes.

I know. I've been timing it.

Just when I'm about to give up and head home to take a long, hot shower, curl up on the couch, watch television until I fall asleep, and dream about how I'll likely never manage to meet anyone who actually likes me more than Ry, I hear a male voice to my right.

"This is going to sound like a terribly cheesy line, but you're seriously too beautiful to be here alone. You're with someone, aren't you?"

Chapter Forty-Four.

Ry I have to continue to remind myself that this is worth it. Especially while Simon drones on and on about how he places his bets on the horse races during the track season here in Saratoga. I don't give two shits about gambling, the odds, or which horse is favored. Running defense for Maggie is getting to be damn near exhausting. Not to mention the Tucker dude actually tried to kiss me.

Yeah. Really. It's the second damn time that's happened to me. Awkward doesn't cover it.

The gym guy was an easy mark, though. Hell, that one even got me a free smoothie at the coffee shop courtesy of Jack who was still laughing all the way there. I'd seen the guy through the Plexiglas racquetball court, chatting with Maggie. It worked out perfectly that Jack and I finished our game in time to catch the guy on his way back over to Maggie. I appeared concerned, utterly serious, as I informed him that she was my roommate, but that I wanted to give him a heads-up that she was in therapy and working through some issues. And that the last guy she dated had to relocate.

I may have also implied that Maggie veered off into the bunny boiling, If I can't have you, no one will kind of personality.

The Max dude was harder to sway my way, though. Shit, he nearly made me feel bad about what I was doing. Almost. Until, after exhausting all of my usual ploys and failing, I finally offered him fifty bucks to leave and never contact her again. The fact that he accepted money to leave a beautiful woman alone says he's a king of douches.

What I didn't plan on was having a dude come up and chat with Maggie while I was attempting to charm the pants off-not literally, of course-Simon. So while I want to break it up, I'm stuck with Simon droning on and on about betting on horses.

Until finally, he has to use the restroom. As if suddenly realizing that Maggie has found someone else's attention, his eyes narrow in an annoyed manner that I'm not a fan of.

Which is when I go in for the kill.

Leaning close to Simon-far closer than is permitted between two heterosexual men-I make my voice husky. "So what do you say, Sim?" I huff out a hot breath against his ear, and he jerks back. "Want to get out of here? You and me?"

The fear in the man's eyes would be hilarious if it were any other situation. Doing my best to maintain eye contact and give him my best "sultry" look-whatever the hell that even is-he moves hastily off his barstool, pulling out his wallet and plucking out some bills before tossing it back on the bar, mumbling something about having to go.

Phew.

After he's gone, I turn to take in the scene to my right. Maggie is talking with a guy, and he actually doesn't scream "douche," which I begrudgingly admit. Very begrudgingly.

"Hey, man," I interrupt them, holding out my hand to him. "Ry James, Maggie's roommate. Nice to meet you."

There's no way I can miss the way Maggie's smile tightens, knowing what's on the verge of happening. What's been happening for a while now. Every single time.

Ever since that night she deemed as our last.

The guy reaches out, shaking my hand firmly. "Hey, Ry. Nice to meet you. Tanner Matthews."

Tanner. I hate him. Don't know him-don't have to. I dislike him and every bit of his perfect, easy, friendly smile, his nice clothes, and kind eyes. It only gets worse.

"I work over at Eastern Sports as tech infrastructure lead." I let it hang out there because surely, this will do it. It'll be the zinger. But all I receive is a polite, "Cool," with a short nod before he turns back to Maggie, resuming their conversation about ... laziness?

What the fuck?

"So you've got the good genes, too?" he asks her with a smile. "I avoid the gym like the plague. Except for once a week since my best friend pressures me into going."

"Yes! Exactly," Maggie agrees excitedly. "Same here."

"My weakness is the Cantina's lobster burrito." Tanner pats his flat stomach. "Those are the best."

What. The. Fuck.

Now, I'm getting weirded out because that's Maggie's- "That's my weakness there, too," Maggie says, astonishment lining her tone.

-weakness, too. Did this guy dig up some intel on her somehow?

"Well"-he lowers his voice, like he's going to say something embarrassing-"to be honest, my all-time favorite indulgence is Max Londons' white sangria." He holds up both palms in defense. "I know, it's not the least bit manly, but their sangria is the best."

I think I'm going to puke.

Hopefully, all over Tanner.

The look on Maggie's face is priceless. "That's mine, too." She tosses a glance over at me, her tone full of surprise with a hint of wonder. "Seriously, Tanner. I love the sangria there."

"Well, what do you say we go and have some? I mean," he hesitates, a sheepish grin on his face, "if you want to, that is. No pressure." He turns a friendly smile on me. "You too, Ry."

He can't possibly be this friendly. There's just no fucking way.

Maggie slides off her barstool, and he's the one who reaches out to steady her when her heel slips a bit upon the slick bar floor.

His hand steadies her. Not mine.

The center of my chest pinches at the expression on her face as she looks up at him. "Thanks." She smiles. "Let me use the restroom real quick, and we can head over to Max's."

"Take your time." He winks and watches her make her way through the crowded bar. And begrudgingly, I have to give the guy credit. His eyes follow Maggie-not her ass. They actually follow her, and the way he's watching her is- Abruptly, he turns to me, flashing an apologetic look. "Sorry, man. I guess I'm a little ..." He shrugs, faltering for his words. "... dazzled. She's just great, you know?"

Yeah. I know.

He laughs. "What am I saying? Of course, you know. You live with her, after all, right?" He slides his hands in his pockets, still looking at me with that friendly expression. It makes me want to kick him in the junk while simultaneously feel like shit for thinking that because he just seems ... nice.

Nice. And exactly the kind of guy Maggie's looking for. He's the kind of guy who would adore her, who wouldn't think of doing her wrong.

One who wouldn't consider lying to her just to find a way to be close to her and get to know her.

Chapter Forty-Five.

Maggie November What is wrong with me? There has to be something wrong with me. Maybe I've contracted Ebola? West Nile virus? Yellow fever?

When I call Sarah on my lunch break, she thinks I'm hilarious. And delusional.

"You don't have a contagious disease, Maggie. I've already run down the symptoms, and you have none of them."

I'd like to note that her bored tone is not appreciated.

"There has to be something wrong. Because Tanner's perfect. He's smart and funny and has a great job and thinks I'm the greatest thing since sliced bread."

"But," Sarah leads in.

"But I ..." I huff out a long breath, disgusted with myself. "I don't know what it is. I just don't ..."

"Feel anything for him past friendship." She says it as a statement, knowing me too well.

"Yes." My answer comes out with a whoosh of defeated breath. Leaning my forehead against my desk calendar, I let out a soft groan. "What's wrong with me? I told a perfectly perfect guy I couldn't see him anymore."

My question is greeted with silence. "Sarah?"

"Yes?"

"Ummm, a little help here, please?"

She huffs. "Maggie, what do you want me to tell you, exactly? That what you're looking for is right in front of you? Or that-" She's interrupted, and I hear voices in the background. "Sorry, Maggie. I have to run. They're shorthanded today, and I need to cut my break short. Call me later, okay, sweetie? But you're going to be fine. I promise."

We say our hurried goodbyes, and I hang up my desk phone. Only to have it ring a second later.

Wearily, I glance at the caller ID. On a day like today, a call from him barely brings a smile to my lips.

"Mags, Mags, Mags. What's wrong?"

Slumping back in my desk chair, I sigh. "I don't know. I'm just in a funk."

"You can't be in a funk on a Friday. It's illegal."

My lips curve upward just slightly. "Pretty sure that's not even a bit true."

"Ah, but it got you to smile just a tiny bit more."

"Ryland James! Are you spying on me again? Didn't they make you give those binoculars back?"

"I may have forgotten to return them."

My smile widens a notch. "You're such a creeper."

"Only for you, gorgeous." His voice sounds huskier, more intimate, sending shivers down my spine. "Only for you."

Did I say that those shivers went down my spine? Well, those shivers also have an effect on other areas, too. Like downtown. You know what I'm saying?

Panties damp? Oh, yes. Which means I'm in trouble. Because Tanner doesn't make my panties damp. They stay Sahara-dry around him.

Umm, wow. That's just weird sounding, but you get the point. Good God, I'm so screwed up. Sarah has to be wrong. I have to be coming down with something major.

"You feeling all right?" Ry's tone is concerned, and I realize I've been massaging my temples.

"You really need to stop spying on me, Ry." My tone is sharper than I intended, and I am instantly remorseful.

Especially with Ry's quiet response. "Sorry, Mags. I'll leave you be."

With a soft click, the call ends, leaving me to feel like a complete jerk.

Once I finally drag my weary butt home, I enter the apartment only to find it eerily silent.

"Ry?" I call out hesitantly.

When I don't receive a response, the knot in my stomach tightens. My boss had bombarded me after my lunch break ended; the far side of my desk still piled high with files and paperwork I'll need to tackle bright and early on Monday.

Glancing over at the clock, I cringe at how late it is. Nearly six forty-five. I'm selfish for even expecting Ry to be here after the way our call ended. Not to mention, I was barely keeping my head above water the remainder of the day and hadn't had time to breathe-meetings back-to-back-let alone time to call him back.

"I should have made time," I mutter, tossing my briefcase onto one of the barstools and shrugging off my coat onto the back of the stool. And that's when I see the note on the counter.

Didn't want to bother you, but if you feel up to it come out and join me and Jack at The Parting Glass.

Love, Ry Clutching the note like it's a lifeline, I feel the tightness in my chest ease. He can't be that mad at me if he's inviting me out, right?

So then why the heck am I bummed that he's with Jack?

"Geez, Maggie! You just want it all, don't you?" I grumble, hurrying to my room to change. Tearing open my closet doors, I frantically scan for something to wear. Fall is definitely upon us now, and I love the fact that I can fully embrace sweater weather.

Choosing a thin, strappy camisole and a forest green off-the-shoulder sweater, I slide on my favorite pair of dark jeans and my favorite light gold-hued Christian Louboutin peep-toed heels. Retouching my makeup, I choose a darker lipstick, smoothing my curls in an attempt to make them appear less unruly.

Notice I said attempt. I'm not a miracle worker here.