“Jesus,” he muttered, that shadow drifting back.
“What?”
“You’re not thirty-six.”
I stared at him for a second speechless, in shock not only at his words but the firm, knowing way he said them.
“I am,” I told him.
“You think that’ll turn me off, you tellin’ me you’re thirty-six?”
What did he mean by that?
“I am thirty-six!” I snapped somewhat loudly.
He scowled at me, his eyes moving over my face as he did it then he asked, “Seriously?”
“Yes!” I snapped again and then pushed at his chest to get away.
His arms got tighter. “Nina.”
I stopped pushing and glared at him. “Obviously, since my age is such a turn off, right about now I should be leaving.”
His arms got even tighter but his head tipped back, his eyes rolled up and he looked at the ceiling of the sauna.
“Grant me patience,” he muttered his prayer to the ceiling and I started pushing again so he looked back at me. “Stop pushin’, Duchess.”
“Let me go.”
“Nope.”
“Let me go!” I shouted, Max gave me another shake but I kept pushing.
“You don’t look thirty-six,” he told me.
“Let me go.”
“Thirty, at a push.”
“Max. Let. Me. Go!”
“I was surprised, surprised enough not to believe you.”
“Let me go!”
“You wanna know how old I am?”
I gave up pushing since I wasn’t getting anywhere and it appeared Max was determined to have this conversation. If I’d learned nothing in the last week, I learned that when Max was determined to do something, he did it.
Instead of pushing, I glared at him again and said, “Not particularly.”
He ignored me and stated, “Thirty-seven.”
He was older than me. That was good. Not that it mattered if he was younger, really. Actually, not that it mattered at all since I didn’t care.
“Birthday’s May eighth,” he continued, breaking into my thoughts.
“Fascinating,” I drawled sarcastically even though it was because he wasn’t a year older than me, he was a year and a half and his birthday was only a month away.