Page 27 of Maxwell

“Two? Wow,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m feeling generous,” she quipped. Then, “Hey, about my snarky comments to Keisha about how the mothers love you⁠—”

“Forget it. I already have.”

“You’re sure?”

“I promise.”

She exhaled with relief. “Okay, then.”

“I’ll take the ladder back to the supply closet and toss this old bulb,” Maxwell said.

“Trying to earn more points?” Jasmine asked.

“As many as I can get.”

“Have a good night.”

Jasmine went to her office and packed up her belongings, but she took her time, listening for when Maxwell returned to their side of the building. When she heard him, she slipped her bag over her shoulder and walked to his door to say good night. He was writing in a leather-bound notebook, which she had seen him do one other time.

“You’re still working?” she asked.

Maxwell put down his pen. “Not working, exactly.”

Fully curious now, she stepped a few feet into his office. “If it’s not work, what are you doing?”

“Some people would say you’re being nosy.”

“Some people should keep their negative opinions to themselves.” She liked their verbal sparring and wished they interacted more often so she could indulge.

Maxwell leaned back in the chair, giving off his usual confident air. He hadn’t rolled back down his sleeves, which meant his muscled arms dusted with fine dark hair remained exposed to her greedy eyes.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he said.

“Try me.”

He paused, as if deciding if he should share with her. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and sat up, resting his forearms on the desk. “I was journaling.”

Her eyebrows lifted higher.

Maxwell let out a small laugh. “See, I knew you wouldn’t believe me.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you. It’s... you gave an unexpected answer. I never figured you for the journaling type.”

“Why? Because I’m not a nice guy?”

She sighed. “Okay, this conversation is over. Have a good night.”

“No, don’t run off so quick. I was only teasing. Funny how we both have misconstrued ideas of each other.”

“What did you think about me?” Jasmine asked.

“Because of how we met, I figured you were a party girl. A woman who likes to have a good time. Not someone who runs a doctor’s office with military precision.”

“I didn’t have much choice. I love my father, but organization is not his strong suit. Someone had to get this place in order when his last manager left.”

“And you were available?”