The Better Man

Her eyes began to flutter open and, though it was absurd to think he had anything to do with her passing out, Max wanted to set her down before she came to. She looked up at him as he set her on the chair.

“Oh, God, did I die?” She was horror-stricken. Her eyes were wide and wild. “I can’t die. What about Simon!” Her hand covered her mouth.

“No, no, no, K. You’re fine. You’re alive,” Owen said, pushing Max aside and helping her sit up straight. “Mr. Jordan, here, brought you inside.”

“Mr. Jordan?”

The beautiful but somewhat strange designer rubbed her forehead and stared at Max. She was pretty enough to be forgiven for spilling her coffee all over his shoes. This time.

“Please, call me Max,” he said to both of them. This Mr. Jordan stuff made him feel uncomfortable. The only Mr. Jordan that Max ever knew was his grandfather, and his mother’s father was nothing but a mean, old man. He scanned the room. “Let me find you some water.”

The restaurant was a big, torn-apart space with nothing to offer but broken furniture and an empty bar. He decided to duck outside and spotted a Dunkin’ Donuts on the corner, down the street.

He bought Kendall water and a glazed doughnut, just in case low blood sugar really was the culprit. When he returned to the future home of Sato’s, the two designers were hugging. This was not how he expected day one to start. He waited for them to break apart before he handed over the food and drink.

The biggest, softest brown eyes stared up at him. This woman was the knockout. Her dark brown hair was pulled into a ponytail that fell halfway down her back. The navy V-neck shirt she wore accentuated the length of her neck, and her skin was the color of the cream he put in his coffee.

“I figured everyone likes glazed doughnuts. I’m a Boston cream fan myself, but some people don’t like stuff inside their doughnuts. I love vanilla pudding but hate jelly. I mean, if I want jelly, I’m going to put it on toast, not in my doughnut.”

Both designers stared and blinked, blinked and stared. They were beginning to make him self-conscious. He hadn’t had a pimple since the twelfth grade, but all their gaping had him wondering if he didn’t have a giant red bump on his nose.

“You should probably eat something,” he said, filling the awkward silence. “I bet you skipped breakfast this morning. Am I right?”

Kendall glanced at Owen, then nodded her head. “Yeah. I was in such a rush, I totally forgot to grab something. Thank you…Max.” She said his name like she was testing the way it sounded. As if he might correct her and tell her it was something else.

“You’re welcome,” he said with a wink. “Eat up so we can get to work.”

Kendall pulled out the doughnut and took a bite, humming in appreciation. She ate and she drank. She smiled and she blushed. She was even prettier with a little color in her cheeks. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand instead of the napkin he had stuffed in the small paper bag, and she never stopped staring.