Falling for Max (6 page)

“If it can be different for me, it can be different for you.”

Obviously there was some logic to Hailey’s statement, but Tori shied away from analyzing it too closely. If she thought about committing to a man and allowing him into her life and her heart, she felt almost physically ill. The thing about a couple being together for twenty-five years is that they knew the soft spots—where to hit to inflict the most emotional hurt.

“I’m enjoying my life the way it is” was all she said, and it was the truth. “And I won’t find a new best friend just because you went and fell in love. I draw the line at wearing camo, though.”

“Okay. How do you feel about blaze orange?”

* * *

After much deliberation, Max decided to contact Tori at six that evening. She was the one who’d suggested that time for their dinner, so he felt he could safely assume that would be the time least disruptive to her work. He was taking a chance on interrupting her dinner, but he’d get right to the point if that was the case. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, he pulled up her number and hit Call.

“Hi, Max.”

He liked cell phones. They removed that awkward need to announce one’s identity to avoid the embarrassment of being a minute or two into a conversation and hearing
Who is this?
“Hi, Tori. Am I interrupting you?”

“Nope. I just finished eating, so I’m cleaning up before I go back to work for a few hours.”

“You said you prefer texting, but phone calls for longer conversation. I don’t want to tell you how much time I spent going through how I thought our conversation might go to determine if it would constitute
longer.
”

When she laughed, he leaned back against the sofa and got comfortable. It was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but when she laughed at him, it’s because she thought he was funny. There was nothing mocking or scornful about the sound.

“There’s no mathematical formula,” she said. “Just don’t be offended if you go to voice mail. If I’m at the diner or working at my computer, I don’t usually answer phone calls, but I can’t seem to resist text messages. So what’s up?”

“This is slightly awkward.”

“Are you calling to cancel our mock date?”

Even though he heard the amusement in her voice, the need to assure her that wasn’t the case was urgent. “No! Not at all. I’m looking forward to it. For the practice, of course. I need the practice.”

Her soft chuckle touched him in a way that was almost physical, and he held the phone just a little bit away from his ear. He needed to focus.

“Relax, Max. If you have to try too hard to make a woman like you, then she’s not the woman for you. Now, what’s awkward?”

“Josh and Drew invited me for lunch at the diner today.”

“Really? At this rate you’re going to be a regular soon. You might even turn into one of those guys who has a very particular seat at the counter and refuses to sit anywhere else.”

“That would be rude,” he said. “If somebody was sitting at that spot, would I just turn around and leave?”

“You’d be surprised. Sometimes the regular will ask the person sitting on his stool to move over one. And there’s one older gentleman who kind of looms and stares, which is creepy. But he comes in at the same time every morning, so we’ve started making sure nobody sits in his spot.”

“I don’t foresee myself becoming that rigid about which seat at the counter I occupy.”

“Just one more reason to like you. Let’s get to the awkward part.”

“During lunch they were talking about the ATV club. They need a professional logo and a website banner, but I explained to them that’s not my kind of art. I suggested they ask you.”

There were a few very long seconds of silence. “You volunteered my services?”

“Of course not. I didn’t tell them you’d do it. I suggested they ask you if you’d be willing to help.” He knew it was an important distinction.

“And they said?”

“They suggested I ask you because you’re my friend.”

She sighed. “I’ll send Josh an email and see what they’re looking for. If I can’t do it, I can at least connect them with somebody who can.”

“Thank you. I hope I didn’t impose too much on our friendship.”

“You didn’t. I do need to get back to work, though. I’ve worked enough extra hours at the diner, so I need to chain myself to the computer for a few days.”

He knew the time she spent with him was also taking away from her working time. “I understand if you want to cancel our date. Mock date. I know you’re busy.”

“No way. You and I are going to go out and have a good time. It’s all part of the plan. So you’ll pick me up about four-thirty?”

“At four-thirty, yes.” Driving into the city meant starting an evening date a little earlier than was the norm.

“Okay, I’ll see you then.”

Once they’d hung up, Max pulled her contact info up again and looked at the picture he’d taken at the diner. She was very pretty, even in her work T-shirt and ponytail, so he was going to have to put his best foot forward on Saturday, even if the date was only pretend.

Even he knew a man looking like a schlub didn’t take out a woman as beautiful and vivacious as Tori.

Chapter Six

Tori let loose a string of curses and used a balled-up tissue to scrub the lipstick off of her mouth. Between working at the diner and the time spent at her computer, she hadn’t been outside enough and she was too pale for that color. Rummaging through the plastic bin that held her makeup, she dug up a simple lip gloss she liked and called it good.

It wasn’t even a real date. She knew that, since she’d reminded herself of it often enough over the course of the day, but she couldn’t stem the slight buzz of excitement she’d woken up with. Mock or not, she was going out for a nice dinner with a very handsome man whose company she enjoyed.

That was reason enough to look forward to the evening. She didn’t need to read anything else into it, or she’d drive herself crazy.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror that hung on the inside of her closet door. There weren’t many opportunities to dress up in Whitford, so she might have gone a little overboard for the occasion. The dress was her favorite, a solid plum that was cut so well it didn’t need any further adornment. But in deference to the season, she’d topped it with a black cashmere cardigan and tall black boots that hid her warm tights. With her hair blown out and framing her face, she thought she looked pretty damn good.

A glance at the clock told her she was almost out of time, so she kicked the closet door closed and grabbed the black leather wristlet she’d tossed on the bed earlier. She suspected Max would arrive at exactly four-thirty, which didn’t leave her much time to finish getting ready.

At 4:32, she realized she hadn’t told Max how to get in.

The buzzer doesn’t work
, she texted.
You have to text me you’re here and I’ll come down.

I’m here.

Trying not to picture him standing outside her door for two minutes, wondering if he’d been stood up or was doing something wrong, she grabbed her bag and hit the lights on her way out.

When she opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, she almost laughed out loud. He was in a crisp black suit, with a blinding white shirt and black tie. “Did you come straight here from a funeral?”

He looked down at himself. “This suit is a classic. Maybe I should have worn a different tie.”

“I’m not sure a different tie would help. It’s a nice suit, by the way. Just a little severe. Is this how you always dress for a date?”

He fiddled with the cuff of his coat, lining it up perfectly with the cuff of the white shirt, all the way around his wrist. She recognized that he was feeling off-guard, but she resisted the urge to smooth it over by talking.

“You’re wearing a dress,” he pointed out a few seconds later.

“Yes, but it’s a sundress, not a cocktail dress.”

“It seems impossible to dress to complement you if I don’t know what you’ll be wearing. And, since I haven’t lived under a rock my entire life, I know asking a woman what she’ll wear when she agrees to a date isn’t the way to go.”

“You don’t dress for me. You dress for the date. For example, if the restaurant you’re going to is nice, but doesn’t require reservations, maybe not the full dress suit.”

“Should I go home and change?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Of course not. That suit looks
very
good on you and I won’t mind being seen on your arm at all.”

When he turned his body and held out his arm, elbow bent, she bit back the urge to point out it was an expression and she hadn’t meant it literally. But she looped her arm through his and rested her hand on his forearm. There was something to be said for a guy with nice manners.

When he tucked her arm against his body, pulling her slightly closer as they walked to his car, she tried not to think about how warm and solid his body was. Her arm was pressed just below his ribs and there wasn’t a lot of softness around his middle. They didn’t have a gym in Whitford and she didn’t remember seeing any equipment in his basement, but he obviously found a way to stay fit.

When they reached his car, he freed her arm so he could open his door for her, and then he put his hand on the small of her back to guide her as she stepped off the curb.

The contact, slight as it was, almost made her stumble. Between the affection dream, as she thought of it, and the way his hand on her back sent a warm flood of yearning through her, she must be starving for physical contact more than she thought.

This was Max. Yes, he was incredibly attractive, but he was a sweet, geeky guy she’d felt sympathy for when he bombed trying to talk to Jeanette and she was helping him find a date. No—she was really helping him find a
wife.

There was no way she was having any sexual feelings toward Max, no matter how good it felt when he touched her.

She sat on the edge of the passenger seat, thankful when his hand fell away, and then turned, pulling her legs in. In the time between him closing her door and sliding into the driver’s seat, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself.

Max was not for her. Or, rather, she was not for Max. She would be tempted to invite him upstairs after dinner, but he—or rather
they
—were on a mission that fun, casual sex had no part in.

“It’s a power seat,” he said as he started the car and put it in gear, “so if you’d like to adjust it, the control panel’s on the side.”

“It’s fine, thank you.”

The car was quiet as he navigated through town and hit the main road, and she wondered if he even realized his radio was turned off. A little music turned down low wouldn’t be a bad thing.

She let several miles pass, trying not to fidget, but the silence was too much. As tempting as it was to fill it, it was Max who needed to make the effort. “This would be a good time for small talk.”

His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m not very good at small talk.”

“I know that, but what we have going on here is called an
awkward silence
for a reason.”

He turned the radio on, and it took all of Tori’s willpower not to laugh at him. “That’s not what I had in mind. Try to come up with something to talk about that’s specific to me.”

“You’re often humming or singing. I’ve noticed it before at the diner, if you’re making coffee or something else that’s fairly mindless.”

Tori sighed and looked out the window. That wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind, either. “Most of the time I don’t even realize I’m doing it. I guess I do it while I’m working.”

“You were singing just now.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Not really, I guess. But it would probably be less noticeable if you sang the same song the radio’s playing.”

“I don’t know that song.”

“What kind of music do you prefer?”

“I’m a country girl.”

He cringed. “Yee-haw.”

“Wow, what an incredibly original thing to say. Let me guess...you like classical and jazz.”

He pointed at the radio. “Does this sound like classical or jazz?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“It’s The Who. This is... You have horrible taste in music. There. That’s something specific to you.”

She laughed and, after another shake of his head to show his disbelief she hadn’t recognized the song, he joined in. He spent the rest of the drive quizzing her about bands and songs, feigning shock when she recognized one. It probably wasn’t great first-date conversation, but they laughed a lot as the miles passed.

Once he found a space in the restaurant’s parking lot, Max hurried around to her side of the car and opened her door. She should probably warn him that not everybody was into chivalry and he shouldn’t say anything if his date opened her own door before he could get there.

“The space is kind of tight,” he said before she had a chance to speak. “I want to make sure you don’t ding the other car with my door.”

Oh, Max.
“You’re a true romantic.”

He held out his hand to help her out, while keeping a firm grasp on the door so it wouldn’t open any further, and she placed her palm against his. Fingers closing around hers, he gave a little tug.

He hadn’t been kidding about the parking being tight and with her on her feet and him guarding against door dings, there wasn’t a lot of space between her body and his. How she was going to get by him without full body contact was a mystery.

She heard him breathe in deeply. “You smell like fruit.”

This time when she laughed he only gave her a puzzled look, which made her laugh harder. He put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her sideways enough so he could close the door, then hit the button on his fob to lock the car.

“That was a compliment specific to you,” he said in a confused tone that did nothing to dampen her amusement.

“Was it a compliment? It was hard to tell.”

He offered his arm and she took it, trying to compose herself as they walked across the parking lot.

“I was trying to tell you that you smell nice.”

She squeezed his forearm. “Then just say that. You didn’t need to be so specific.”

“So my specific compliments should be vague.”

Stopping him before he could open the door to the restaurant, she turned to look up at him. “Just be you, Max. The woman you marry has to love you for who you are, and I shouldn’t have laughed. It was just so...adorable.”

“Adorable.” He growled a little and yanked open the door for her. “Great.”

* * *

Adorable.
That wasn’t exactly the word a grown man wanted to hear from a beautiful woman wearing sexy black boots. He pulled up the rear, scowling at the back of Tori’s head, as the hostess led them to their table.

He might not know how to drive a tractor or wrestle an ATV through the mud or change a woman’s oil for her but, by God, he was not
adorable.

Tori asked for a glass of white wine and Max ordered a glass of water and decaf, since it was after five. Once they had their drinks, Tori ordered baked haddock and he asked for the steak tips. Their server took the menus and went away.

“I’m not adorable,” he said as soon as they were alone.

“It wasn’t an insult.”

“Not if you’re a six-year-old or a baby panda bear.”

She tilted her head. “How about endearing?”

“How about sexy?”

“You told me I smell like fruit.”

“I like fruit.”

She took a long drink of her wine. “I should have asked for the whole bottle.”

When he smiled, she smiled back at him. “You smell very nice tonight, Tori.”

“Thank you.” She set her wineglass down. “I’ve been thinking about who would be a good match for you, and I think you should ask out Nola Kendrick.”

He wracked his brain, trying to put a face with the name, but he came up blank. “I don’t know who that is.”

“She works at the town hall. She’s around your age and has blond hair cut at, like, chin level.”

“I was at the town hall a couple of months ago.”

“Then you probably talked to Nola. She’s attractive and very nice. And she’s kind of quiet, too, so I think you’d have a very nice time.”

He knew should be excited at the idea of having a prospect, but all he had was a vague idea of a nice woman who’d given him a receipt for his tax payment. “So you think I should ask her to have dinner with me?”

“I’d offer to set it up as a blind date, but I don’t know her
that
well. And, let’s be honest, this whole serial-killer thing might have been amusing to you, but it makes it a little difficult to offer you up for some quality alone time, if you know what I mean.”

He leaned across the table so he could lower his voice. “How about a porn studio? Better or worse?”

Tori laughed. “With Nola, I’m honestly not sure. It’s the quiet ones you have to watch.”

“If I ask her to dinner at the diner, it’s not an ideal place for a nice date, but she’ll feel more secure than if I ask her to get in my car and head off to the city.”

“Absolutely. Unfortunately, that means she has to decide if she’s up to the gossip that’ll come after or not, but you’re a good-looking guy. I think she’ll risk it.”

He took a sip of his water, watching her over the rim. “You’re very good for my ego, you know.”

“Just giving you a boost, so you’ll be confident when you approach a woman.” She paused, taking a quick drink. “I wish there was more to do in Whitford. Something for after dinner, if you both want the date to continue. Like someplace to dance or...something.”

“I don’t foresee myself going dancing, even if it was an option. I’m more of a dinner-and-a-movie type. Not that Whitford has a movie theater.”

“Of course you are. You don’t have to talk to a woman when you’re watching a movie. And I bet, between chewing and listening to your date, you don’t do a lot of talking over dinner, either.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Dinner and a movie don’t require thought or intimacy. That’s all I’m saying.”

He wanted to deny he took the easy way out on dates, but she was right. She was also a little annoying, with this ability to see right through all the tricks he used to navigate through life. “I don’t have very good rhythm. That’s all.”

“I’ve watched you move, Max. I bet you can dance.”

He watched the candlelight flicker in her eyes and tried not overthink the words she’d said. She’d told him before she watched people and studied their body language, but that didn’t stop the sexual hunger that seemed to be short-circuiting his brain.
Not this woman.

Tori didn’t look away from his gaze and he wondered what she would do if he reached across the table and took her hand. For the first time in his life, Max wanted to dance. He wanted to pull her into his arms and see how she fit against his body.

“Nola,” she said quickly, as if it burst out of her mouth, and the name hit him like a bucket of ice water. “We need to figure out what you’ll talk about with Nola.”

“Okay.” He didn’t want to talk about Nola Kendrick. He wanted to talk about Tori.

“What do you like to do?” Just as he opened his mouth to respond, she held up her hand. “Nothing to do with model railroading or sports.”

He closed his mouth and thought about it. “I like reading.”

“Okay. What do you like to read?”