5. Boston, The Land Of Revolutionary Tea Parties and Non-English Crumpets

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Chapter 5

Boston, The Land Of Revolutionary Tea Parties and Non-English Crumpets

Ah, Boston.  The place where I was born and raised.  It felt good to be going home after months of traveling.  I usually had a souvenir that I'd gotten, but this time I was bringing home a person.  A very fine looking person.

"So this is Boston," Max said as we walked out of the terminal and into the main area of the airport.  He looked out the windows at the airplanes coming in and taking off.  "The land of revolutionary tea parties."

I snorted.  "And non-English crumpets," I said.  "We have English muffins, though!"

He laughed.  "True."

"This is just the airport," I said, looking around.  "You haven't seen anything yet.  It's amazing.  This place is so full of history.  It's the ideal place to live for a history loving person like me."

Max grinned over at me and bumped me with his hip.  "So I should move here?" he asked.  "Can I share a bed with you since I've got no place to go?"

I raised an eyebrow, nonchalantly brushing off his flirting.  "I've only just met you.  Why in the world would I share my bed with a man I only just me?  Do I seem like that kind of girl?"

He snorted, rolling his eyes.  "No, you don't," he said.  "I was only joking."

I rolled my eyes then.  He was just too cute to fight with. 

I couldn't help but see out of the corner of my eye all of the women looking at him as we walked behind Dad and Brielle.  Max was dressed as simply as he was the first time I saw him yesterday in the airport in London, only he had on a gray t-shirt with black designs on it this time.  He still looked as good now as he did then.

I hated the rush of possessiveness that flowed through me as we walked toward the baggage claim.  I subconsciously moved close to him and my hand accidentally brushed his.  Quickly pulling my hand away, I saw Max look down at me, but he made no move to put a few more inches between us.  My heart started pounding. 

Okay, that was a good thing, right?  That means that he's not absolutely repulsed by me.  But did that mean he didn't mind me touching him?  I mean...well, I don't know what I mean.  Why did this have to be so confusing.

"So do all American women openly stare like these seem to be?" he asked then, pointedly looking around at all of the women watching as we walked.

"Handsome British man like yourself, I believe so," I said in a British accent. 

Max rolled his eyes and grinned.  "At least your not like them," he said in an American accent.  It was really weird. 

I laughed.  "Don't ever do that again!" I said.  "It was creepy!"

He laughed with me, bumping me with his hip again and grinning.  "Your British accent is very cute actually.  I wouldn't mind if you did it again."

I felt the faint blush creep up onto my cheeks like it did every time he seemed to say something about me.  God, why did it have to happen?  It was so embarrassing!

Especially when I noticed Brielle looking back at us and grinning.  I gave her the evil eye, just daring her to say something.

"Oh, Callie," she said in a sing-song voice.  No, she wasn't!  "Are you a little warm?  Your face is a little flushed."

Narrowing my eyes at her, I was trying no to run toward her and strangle her.  I'm sure my dad wouldn't really appreciate it and I would probably regret it while I was sitting in jail for murder later if I actually did.

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