Love Inspired August 2014 – Bundle 1 of 2 (33 page)

Chapter Thirteen

M
ax could not remember the last time he was this nervous. An actual date. Was he ready
for this? Did he even know how to do this?
You used to be fantastic at this,
he told his reflection in the rearview mirror as he pulled up to Heather’s apartment
Friday night.
This is just fantastic Max on wheels, remember?

It wasn’t true. No matter how he tried to talk himself out of it, Heather wasn’t just
any girl. Something in him had come completely unwound when he’d kissed her, something
he wasn’t quite ready to let loose.
Imagine that—me not ready to let loose on something.
He ran his hands through his hair one last time.
Get a grip, Jones. You used to be so much smoother than this.

He pulled up Heather’s number on his cell phone and called.

“Hi.” She picked up right away, a bit breathless. Her anticipation zinged through
him. How long had it been since he’d felt the wonderful buzz of a first date? Startled,
Max realized he’d kissed Heather before he’d started dating her. That was a first.
Taking the time to get to know a woman before he dated her wasn’t the usual Max Jones
style.

“I’d come to your door, but that might set us back another twenty minutes.” He tried
to make a joke of it, but the fact that Heather’s apartment was a second-story walk-up
stung just a little bit too much.

“I’ll be down in a jiffy.” Max craned his neck up to see her waving out her front
window.

Max clicked his phone off and then checked again to see that the passenger seat was
set in right. He had no intention of making Heather ride in the back tonight.

She pulled open the door to her building and paused in the light of the entrance.
Max wondered if her breath hitched the way his just did. For years JJ had lectured
him on the difference between “a hot girl” and “a beautiful woman”—and it had just
sunk in. Heather was beautiful. Not just in the way she filled out the peach-colored
dress she wore or the way her hair swung about her shoulders, but in who she was and
the light in her eyes. The pain in her eyes, too. She was so much braver than she
gave herself credit for, so much stronger than she realized. And this amazing woman
was about to get into his car and have dinner with him. Him, the guy in a chair. Tonight,
just about anything seemed possible.

It bugged him that he couldn’t open the door for her. She didn’t seem to mind, easing
herself into the passenger seat and smiling at him. “You said to dress up a bit—is
this okay?” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Okay
didn’t even begin to describe how she looked. “You look incredible.” Every ounce
of cool aloofness left his voice, and he found he didn’t care.

She flushed, and Max felt a glow settle under his ribs. “You look pretty good yourself.
You should look beyond your T-shirt collection more often.” She fastened her seat
belt. “Where are we going?”

Max had chosen the restaurant with care. “The Black Swan.”

Her eyes went wide. “The Black Swan? Can you get in there?” As if she realized the
discomfort of that question, she backpedaled. “Of course you can get in there, right?”

It was too late. The dent in Max’s confidence had already been made. Well, they were
both new at this—no one could expect a completely smooth ride tonight. “I called and
checked. Besides, they legally have to have a way for me to enter. Although I did
get the feeling they don’t do a lot of wheel traffic.” In fact, the maître d’, Jeremy,
had been effusively confident—something Max had learned to take as a warning sign.
He’d almost switched restaurants after the phone conversation, but The Black Swan
was the nicest restaurant in town and he wanted to do tonight right.

He pulled into the handicapped spot right out front. “I’m probably the only person
in Gordon Falls who never had to complain about how hard it is to get a parking spot
on Tyler Street on a Friday night.”

She laughed, but a tiny bit too much.

“They’ve got a ramp that fits over the front stair. Why don’t you go in and let the
maître d’ know we’re here while I get out of the car?”

He was pleased she didn’t seem fazed by the request. “Sure thing.”

She slipped out of the car, and with a mild rush Max noted her scent in the wake.
Something flowery with a little bit of vanilla. It made him want to get her close
to him and take deep breaths until his head spun.
Easy, boy. Take your time with this one.

By the time he’d come out of the car, he saw Heather looking frazzled while a pair
of busboys fumbled with a metal ramp. “I don’t think they’ve used this before,” she
told him with a cringe.

“Really?” Max forced the frustration from his voice, trying to sound as if this sort
of thing happened every day—which, unfortunately, it did. “Whatever gave you that
idea?” Thankfully, the model in question was one he had seen before. He rolled up
and pointed to the end at the bottom of the stair. “It goes the other way, boys. The
lip goes on top. Slip the pins in before you put it back down and everything will
be just fine.” He raised one eyebrow to Heather. “We ought to hint at a free dessert
for this.”

A small crowd of people had gathered on the sidewalk to see what the fuss was about.
Heather bit her lip and clutched her handbag. “It’s fine,” he assured her, touching
her elbow. “Just minor logistics.”

She flashed him a too-wide smile. “Sure.” She was trying so hard.

Normally, Max enjoyed making an entrance. He was jazzed to be able to show the good
people of Gordon Falls that a guy on wheels could take a lady out for a nice evening.
Fine dining wasn’t always his thing—no one could call him a “foodie” unless Dellio’s
burgers counted as cuisine—but he knew his way around an upscale table like The Black
Swan. As long as the maître d’ didn’t—

“Good evening, ma’am.”

—direct all his comments toward Heather. Right here, right now, was the absolute worst
part about being in a chair. The people who looked down on him. Not just physically—he’d
long since stopped letting sight lines bother him—but figuratively. As if the loss
of leg function implied loss of brain function.

“Jeremy,” Max cut in perhaps more sharply than was necessary, “I believe we have reservations
under Jones for seven o’clock? You and I talked on the phone this afternoon?”

Jeremy had the good sense to look sheepish. “Of course.”

“You might want to have a talk with those two working the ramp out front. They don’t
seem to have any idea what they’re doing, and I’d like to exit the place in one piece
when we’re done.”

“Certainly.” The guy shot a questioning look at Heather, as if to say,
Is he for real?
Or perhaps it was
I had no idea.
The evening would go better if he gave poor Jeremy the benefit of the doubt.

That generosity lasted until Jeremy showed them to a table way off to the side of
the restaurant. With no view of the river and entirely too near the kitchen. He tapped
Jeremy’s elbow and gestured for him to bend down—knowing that it only made Jeremy
more uncomfortable. “I distinctly remember us discussing a table overlooking the river.
This is kind of a special occasion. Can we do a little better?” He kept his words
kind but put enough bite in them to let Jeremy know he meant business.

Jeremy’s furtive glance around the restaurant soured Max’s stomach. He held the maître
d’s gaze and then nodded toward an empty table for two beside the big beautiful windows
now framing a dramatic fall sunset.

“Max,” Heather whispered, “it’s okay.”

“No,” Max insisted. “It’s not.” He looked straight at Jeremy. “Do we have a problem?”

“No, sir. I don’t believe we do. Give me just a minute.”

If Jeremy had just kept to his word and cleared a path to the table Max had requested,
they would not have had to make the scene of asking two people to stand momentarily
and move their chairs aside. Max thought about clueing Jeremy in to Karl’s free-coffee
policy, but he decided against it. Heather was turning four shades of pink next to
him, nearly squinting her eyes shut as the server pulled out her chair and settled
her into the lovely table overlooking the river.

“Did you have to do that?” She cringed when the server left.

“Actually, I did. It’s always hard to wake people up to their misconceptions the first
time, but I want to be able to take you here anytime I want and be able to request
a table like any other patron.” He softened his voice. “This is my world, Heather.
Very few things are easy. And I get a lot of stares.”

When she looked down, he reached across the table to take her hand. “But staring at
you is very easy. You look fantastic. Really. Can we forget about Monsieur Idiot back
there and have a nice dinner?”

He could literally see her choose to be brave. Could other people see her swallow
that desire to hide, or was it just him? He usually loved his role as “human icebreaker,”
nearly relished the rolling wake-up call his life had become, but knowing the attention
made her uncomfortable tainted the experience for him.

Well, what do you know? Max Jones finally cares about someone else ahead of himself.
Talk about your wake-up calls.

* * *

The man’s eyes could steal the air from the room.

When Max looked at her like that, Heather fairly tingled. He was this force of energy,
this freight train of courage and conviction that never seemed to let anything stop
him. She was ready to believe that Max was moving past the bitter anger of his initial
response to his injuries. He would be—in many ways already was—a conqueror who tackled
one obstacle after another. A man to admire.

A man who was showing off tonight. If Max Jones loved to do anything, it was show
off. Normally, she didn’t care much for such theatrics, but the fact that he was showing
off for her? It peeled off her reluctance one charming smirk at a time.

“Oh, hey, in all the tussle I almost forgot.” He reached into his pocket and pulled
out a ridiculously small gift bag. She recognized the pink and yellow from Jeannie
Owen’s candy store, and smiled at the vision of Max Jones shopping in all that sugarcoated
fluff. Jeannie must have had a field day with Max.

“What’s this?”

“Open it.”

Heather tugged on the tissue until a small, fat marzipan flamingo and a handful of
other chocolates emerged. The gift was just like Max, touching and a little bit outrageous
at the same time. “A candy flamingo?”

“I saw it in her window yesterday and I couldn’t resist. I remembered the one from
your desk the day we met.” Those last words took on a glowing tone she couldn’t ignore.
“You thought I was nothing but trouble that day.”

Heather held his eyes a moment. “I was wrong.”

His smile was smoldering. “Oh, I’m still trouble.”

“You’re a fine man. You’re an insp—”

His hand shot up. “Please don’t say
inspiration.
I hate it when people call me an inspiration. I’m just making the best of the hand
I was dealt.”

Why did he always sell himself short on something genuine like that when he was so
quick to boast about things that didn’t really matter? “I admire you, and you can’t
stop me.” She’d meant it to come out lightly, but the truth of her growing feelings
shone through instead.

Now it was his turn to stare into her eyes. “It’s not your admiration I’m looking
for.” His eyes glanced away for a second, and he licked his lips. Was he nervous?
The realization made her heart flip-flop. “I’m just a man, Heather. Like every other
guy out there, only with a pair of wheels.”

She took his hand. His fingers were roughened from all the time they spent pushing
his wheels, but they were warm and she could feel all the power he gained from them.
“You are not like every other guy out there.” She spoke slowly, sincerely. “And I’m
glad.”

He interlaced his fingers with hers, his thumb running distractingly down the side
of her hand. “Well, I hope you’re as hungry as you are happy, because I plan for us
to eat well tonight.”

He relaxed into the evening as the meal progressed, the sharp comments falling off
into something that felt much more like deep conversation. She loved watching the
hard shell peel off him, enjoyed asking questions that coaxed the more tenderhearted
man she’d glimpsed on his porch that night to come back out. He spent so much energy
coping, pushing and blazing trails in the world that it was as if he’d forgotten how
to just be. The Max on parade was flashy and fun, but the offstage version was a quieter,
doubting, near poet of a guy who was quickly stealing her heart.

A jazz combo had started up earlier on the restaurant’s outdoor patio, the velvety
tones perfectly matching the still-warm indigo evening. “Can you really take me dancing?”
she asked as she finished off the last of her chocolate cake dessert.

“Ooh, the lady remembers my offer.”

“We did have a rather unforgettable first meeting.”

Max put his napkin on the table and signaled the server. “We’ve had a few memorable
moments since then. So you want to dance, do you?”

She felt her face flush. “I’m not really sure how...you...do that.”

His eyes grew downright mischievous. “You worried you’re going to have to lead?”

Suddenly, there was no adventure she wanted more than to dance with Max, however he
managed to do it. “I don’t think you know how to follow anyone, Max Jones.”

He paid the bill and nodded toward the door. “We’re going to have to go down by the
river, but I think you can still hear the band.”

She gave him a suspicious look. “Are you trying to get me alone?”

“That’s a grand idea, but mostly I just need a little more space than your average
prom date.”

Thankfully, the pair of busboys had left the ramp in its correct position, so Max
rolled easily out of the restaurant—after two more people had to shift out of his
way. Once they were out, he turned the corner and said with a dashing grin, “Hop on.”