Worth the Fall (22 page)

I watched her, shocked at how good it felt. I had actual friends. Or, at least one. Someone to do more than go out for a drink with after work. Someone who shared her problems with you and talked them through. Someone who trusted me to be honest with her and help where I could. I was enjoying that simple pleasure when a deep voice came from behind me.

“Hey.”
 

I half expected see a kitten on Max’s shoulder when I looked up at him.
 

Instead, he stood there in his cop gear, the memory of the night we met rushing up and over me like a wave on a flat ocean. Part of it was the hurt of standing on the side of the road in the dark, trying to figure out how my life had become so empty while Jason stood next to his car raving at me. But part of it was the look of disgust Officer Max had given him and the teasing
behave
he’d thrown at me.
 

“Hey.”

He glanced toward Jenna at the counter before stepping around my junk to sit next to me. It was a relief to not have him hovering there, overwhelming me. Until I looked at him and realized he had the capacity to be overwhelming even if you put him in a well and had to shout down at him.

“What was that?” He angled his head at Jenna.

“What?”

“The breakdown.”

Oh. I’d assumed he’d just gotten there.

“She’s…” I didn’t think sharing how Jenna was feeling with anyone was a good idea. Especially Ben’s best friend. But, this group seemed really tight. I wasn’t used to the politics of close friends. Not since undergrad. And my group had been all women then.
 

“She’s…” Max looked at me then glanced her way as he stole her seat. “She’s worried that Ben doesn’t want her to go to England even though he’s bought her an open-ended ticket she can use any time and done everything but ask her to marry him because he’s afraid that would just put too much pressure on her to do something she doesn’t want.”

How was I supposed to respond to that?

“Is that a question?”

“No. I wouldn’t put you on the spot like that.”

“Oh. Thank you.” That was actually really sweet.

No. Not sweet. Officer Max was not sweet…sans kittens.

“You know, they do that whole couple’s rule thing, but he hasn’t told her all that.”

“Couple’s rule?”

“You know. The no secrets thing.”

“You mean they tell each other
everything
?” That meant anything one person figured out would go through the group twice as quickly.

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Well, was that what he meant or not?

“Why doesn’t he just tell her all this?”

Max leaned back and crossed one leg over the other, dropping his ankle over his knee. “Are we a couple?”
 

I tried to hide my panic.

From the way he rolled his eyes at me, I was unsuccessful.
 

Before I could blurt out a more polite version of,
No!,
Max shook his head and answered, “Then we don’t have the couple's rule thing and I can’t tell you.”

I narrowed my eyes, trying to stare him down like he did to everyone else. Trying to get him to break.
 

Instead, he laughed at me.
 

“Tuesday, you’re adorable. Never give that up.”

I gave up.

Abby appeared in front of us, a to-go cup in her hand. “Max.”

“Abigail.”

“John wanted you to have your caffeine before you went all Berserker on him.”

“Yes, I can see that you’d feel in danger of that.”

Abby rolled her eyes like a pro, set the cup down, and wandered off.

Max took a deep drink from the cup, his eyes dropping shut. “I love that kid.”

“For real?”

“Yup.”

Who would have guessed it? Abby had a fan.

I glanced down at my computer where the screen had gone black, wondering what time it was and how long Jenna would hang out at the counter. Didn’t Max have places to be? There was crime out there waiting to be fought.

But, safe crime. The type where no one shoots at him.

“No one shoots at you, right?”

“You mean, on a regular basis?”

Not the most comforting answer.

I closed my eyes and pictured him and kittens.

“What’s that?” Suspicion actually crept into his voice like it was a real thing that could creep places.

“What?”

“That smile you just got.” He set his cup down and turned to face me. “Are you
hoping
people shoot at me?”

“No.” My voice shot over the café, ricocheting and bringing everyone’s gazes back to me. “Of course not. Why would I hope that?”

“If I could figure out why you do the things you do, I’d probably win a Nobel.”

 
“I’m not even going to reply to that.”

He gave me a grin that said,
you just did,
and I forced myself not to reply to that.

“What do you want to do tonight?” He asked as he pushed himself out of the chair.

I glanced up from my chair at Max hovering, his to-go cup blocking a good look at him.

“Tonight?”

“Yeah. The part of the day when the sun is no longer in the sky.”

“Did we have plans for tonight?” I glance toward Jenna wondering if I’d done something to be on the outs. If I’d already run through my welcome and was no longer the rookie member of the group.

“No. But I thought we could.”

“Could what?”
 

It wasn’t that I was an idiot, but I couldn’t follow his logic at this point.
 

“Do something. I thought you and I could do something.”

“So, instead of asking me if I
want
to do something you ask me
what
it is I want to do?”

“I planned to skip most of this conversation.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Apparently I was wrong.”

“You’re wrong more often than you think.”

He shot me a grin, dropping the coffee cup low enough that he made sure I could see that dimple. I was onto him. At some point a woman must have told him it was deadly. “I’m okay with that.”

“Really? You don’t seem like the type of guy who likes to be wrong.”

“Actually, I just figured you were wrong about me being wrong, but I didn’t want to get even more sidetracked.”
 

That sounded more like Max.
 

“Right, so you’re wrong and I’m going to be the bigger person.” I gave him a smile and let him deal with that.

“What am I wrong about?”

Crud, I’d totally lost the thread of this conversation. It seemed to be pushing it to say
everything.
So, I fell back on an old reliable. “You know what you’re wrong about.”

Max laughed, a deep, startled sound that seemed to rise up from his chest and surprise him.
 

“Sure. Of course. So, tonight. What do you want to do?”

“You mean like a date?”

Max rolled his head, his gaze straying heavenward and I swear his lips moved, probably asking for patience or strength or understanding…but most likely for all of the above.

“How about just two people who have already enjoyed dinner and a movie and a foreign film and a coffee and a game night—”
 

“You enjoyed game night?”

He grinned, a wicked surprise of a grin I hadn’t expected from him. “Yes.”

I waited for him to elaborate, but that seemed to be a lost cause.

“So, tonight is just to hang out?”

“We’ll hang out.”

We stared at each others, both of us with narrowed gazes trying to read the other.

“Fine. I’d like to hear some live music.”

“Really?” Now Max was the surprised one.

“Yes. I think I’d like it.”

It was on The List I was informally making in my head of things single girls in the city did when not being distracted by a controlling boyfriend.
 

“Anything in particular?”

“Just nothing heavy-metal-ish.”

“I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“I’ll meet you on your stoop.”

“How about I meet you on
your
stoop?”

“How about I decide where I meet you and text you tomorrow.”

“For tonight?”

I gave him
my
The Look.

“Fine.” Max downed the rest of his coffee, tossed the cup in the recycle bin, and pulled his little cop hat on. “Eight o’clock on my stoop.”

Win!
 

“Stay out of trouble, Tuesday.”

And off he went.

Jenna, conveniently was done with whatever she was doing at the counter and wandered over just then.
 

“Did he call you Tuesday?”

TWENTY-THREE

I left my house absurdly early to walk the three-quarters block to Max’s stoop. I had a completely rational fear that if I left on time he’d be standing at my door waiting for me.

He couldn’t be trusted.
 

On the downside, between my making sure this wasn’t a date and not asking him where we were going, I had no idea what to wear. My bedroom could now pass for a scene out of Law & Order. In cop lingo, it looked like it had been
tossed.

I definitely needed to ask Max if cops really talked like that.

After trying on everything I owned more than once, I settled on skinny jeans, my most comfortable black heels, and a little black top that could go either way depending on location and accessories.

I’d never worn this outfit before. I checked myself out in the mirror a bit surprised. The skinny jeans were just nice enough to be saved for a night out and the top I’d only worn under little jackets at work.
 

More proof I was getting my life on the right track.

Also, if I was going to be honest, I looked super cute. Either that or I’d gone blind in exchange for a pretty decent ego boost.
 

Which meant that maybe I should change again. If I looked too cute then that might go against the whole not-a-date message.
 

But, Max agreed it wasn’t a date. I think. Or he just agreed that he knew I didn’t think it was a date. But, that would mean it’s not a date. Something can’t be a date if both people don’t agree, right?

Crud. I should change.

Except, it was ten of eight and Max was probably plotting to beat me to my stoop before I could get to his.
 

I was going to have to head out in date clothes.

It was a risk I was willing to take.
 

I grabbed a light jacket and rushed down the stairs. Or, I rushed down two stairs, realized that rushing in non-work heels was almost impossible, pictured myself lying broken at the bottom of the first flight with Max shaking his head at me, and slowed down.

Glancing at the time on my phone, I considered sliding down the banister, but vetoed that as well.
 

At the front door, I glanced through the glass panes half-expecting him to be there.
 

When he wasn’t, I fought off the tiny bit of disappointment I felt. I’d thought he’d be there. That’s all. I wanted to be able to give him the not-a-date talk one more time and figured if he ignored my request that would give me an excuse.

An excuse to what? I’m not sure.

Instead, as I walked down the street, I could see him leaning against the banister at the bottom of his stoop, playing on his phone. He wore jeans that were just fitted enough to look good with a white button down shirt tucked in, the sleeves rolled up over his forearms.

I studied
his
outfit trying to figure out if he was wearing date clothes. He looked really good, but I didn’t think that was the clothing’s fault.

As if he had some type of radar, he glanced up and stood as I made my way to him, the clicking of my heels the only giveaway someone was approaching. I tried not to blush as his gaze slid over me taking in my little shirt, fitted jeans, and peekaboo patent leather shoes. When he smiled that cocky smile I
knew
he thought these were date clothes.
 

Darn it.

“These aren’t date clothes.”

“Of course not.”

I waited for the punch line, but when he didn’t say anything else I had to bite my tongue from saying,
No really. They aren’t.

“You look very nice,” was what he said instead.

“So do you.”

“Thank you. I did something special with my hair.”

I glanced up at his close cut hair, the top just long enough to not look military, trying to figure out what exactly that was.
 

“Tuesday, I’m kidding.”