Falling for Max (13 page)

“No, you don’t. I might have boosted your confidence a little and we had some fun with it—helped you relax—but you’re the same Max now that you were before you met me.”

The way his green eyes captured and held hers made her stomach do a flip. “No, I don’t think I am.”

She wasn’t the same, either, but the coffee counter at the Trailside Diner was not the place to have deep personal revelations. Especially unwelcome ones. With a glib laugh, she reached under the counter and grabbed some sugar packets even though his didn’t really need refilling, just to break the eye contact.

“Hey, if you want to give me the credit, I’ll take it. You can name your first kid after me.”

“Then let’s hope it’s a girl.”

She could tell by the slight curve of his mouth that he was teasing. He wasn’t really mentally naming the children he might have with Nola, which was a good thing. Max could be intense and, if he moved too fast, he’d scare off any woman.

“Do you know what you want for breakfast?”

He looked at the menu, but didn’t pick it up. “What’s good?”

“Everything’s good. Carl isn’t a fancy cook, but his breakfasts are amazing.”

“Paige lucked out with Carl and Gavin from the sound of it.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Max about Gavin’s opportunity in Kennebunkport, but she kept her mouth shut. She wanted to talk to him about it, especially the chaos it would bring into her own life, because he was so logical and calm when it came to facing a problem, but it wasn’t time yet. As far as she knew, Gavin hadn’t had an opportunity to talk to Paige yet and she didn’t want their boss and friend to find out through the grapevine.

“Just write something down for me.”

She arched an eyebrow, considering him. “It’s not like you to just roll with things.”

“I’m broadening my horizons.”

“Anything you don’t like?”

“No seafood and no beans.”

She wrote out an order for a veggie omelet, home fries and raisin toast, which she handed over to Carl. Then she did a circuit of her tables, refilling coffees and checking up on everybody. Three parties came in and two tables had food go out before Max’s appeared in the window.

When she set it down in front of him, his eyes got big. “Carl doesn’t skimp on portions.”

“It’s the best breakfast in the state of Maine. Trust me, you’ll eat it all.”

“Raisin toast is an interesting choice.”

She topped off his coffee. “You bought two loaves of this raisin bread the day I ran into you at the market.”

“This is the same bread?”

“Yup. Carl’s wife bakes it at home and sells it to Paige and Fran. The cinnamon buns, too.”

He slid his knife through the omelet and a bounty of cheese and vegetables oozed out. “I really like this town.”

Chapter Thirteen

On Friday, Max worked until he would have just enough time to shower and dress for his second date with Nola. Hanging around watching the clock wouldn’t help him relax any.

He should be more excited about the coming evening. It was a second date, with the awkwardness and formalities of the first one out of the way. They would both be more at ease and, hopefully, they’d both want to keep going toward an exclusive relationship.

He really wished Whitford had a movie theater, though. Or a bowling alley or even a mini-golf course. Sitting across from a woman with nothing to do but hold a conversation was a lot of pressure.

He arrived at the diner ten minutes before five and found the table they’d sat at the first time was open. He took it, wondering if it would become “their” table. Women seemed to like things like that.

“Just you tonight, Max?”

He smiled at Ava and shook his head. “Nola’s joining me.”

“That’s twice,” she said, giving him a sassy, raised eyebrow. “Might be getting serious.”

He liked Ava. She was older and always worked the evening shift. He’d heard, maybe at the General Store, that she’d taken the job at the diner after her husband passed and requested the evening hours because that’s when she missed him the most. She was funny and bold and he could imagine Tori being like her some day.

“She said the fish fry was good and I haven’t tried it yet, so here we are” was all he said. Besides being funny and bold, Ava was also one of the pivotal links in Whitford’s gossip chain.

He stood when Nola arrived, and she looked pleased by the gesture as she slid into her side of the booth. “I’m running a few minutes behind. Sorry about that.”

They both ordered decaf and the fish fry, and then they talked about her day while waiting for Gavin to work his magic. She told him a few funny stories—without names, of course—from her years of working with Whitford’s public.

“What about your work? You haven’t told me what you do yet.”

It was tempting to make a joke, but this was their second date. “I paint models. Trains, to be exact. For people who do model railroading.”

“Really?” She made a
huh
face, which didn’t give him a lot to go on. “And that’s your job? Like your regular job?”

“Yes. It has been for about ten years. I did it part-time while working for a tax firm, but I made the jump to full-time several years before I moved here.”

“That’s interesting.”

He should offer to show her his workshop, but he didn’t. While she’d said the right words, there hadn’t been a lot of enthusiasm behind them. He knew from experience she would be one of those whose eyes glazed over with boredom mere minutes into a tour of his basement.

Luckily, fish fry was a fast dish and Ava appeared with baskets of fish and fries, and dishes of coleslaw. “Max, if you haven’t had Gavin’s slaw yet, hold on to your socks. And don’t forget, fish fry is all you can eat.”

“I’m pretty sure this
is
all I can eat,” he said, staring at the food in front of him.

“If you change your mind, just holler. I’ll be right back with more decaf.”

The coleslaw was as good as promised, the fries were freshly cut, and he could tell Gavin had breaded fresh fish himself rather than relying on frozen. As much as he’d regret not having feasts like this at the diner, he really hoped the kid made good on his culinary dreams.

Neither of them had seconds, but he asked Nola if she’d like dessert or more decaf.

“I don’t think so. Not tonight.”

She sounded a little odd, and he had a feeling he wasn’t going to have to worry about her good-night kiss body language. “Okay.”

“I...I like you, Max. You’re funny and sweet and I like spending time with you. But...”

But.
Max knew what that meant. He waited for some sign of distress or disappointment or something in himself, but all he felt was relief. He liked Nola, but he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with her. It was all too...polite. He’d finally figured out Tori’s reaction to the word
nice.

“I don’t think there’s any spark between us,” she continued. “Not a romantic spark. I genuinely would like us to be friends, though.”

“I’d like that, too.” When she started to pull her wallet out of her purse, he waved it away. “I’m still paying.”

She kissed his cheek on her way out, and Max sighed. She really was a nice person.

He still had half a cup of decaf, so he decided to stay and finish it. Ava had already cleared the other dishes, so he was surprised when she slid into the booth across from him.

“That was painful to watch,” she said.

“It was mutual. More or less.”

“I don’t mean the leaving. I mean the date. You two have less chemistry than two two-by-fours.”

He laughed. “I should probably be insulted by that.”

“Not talking about your personalities. There’s no chemistry between the two of you. Don’t even try to pretend you spent the entire dinner trying to figure out how to get her naked.”

His fingers tightened around his coffee cup and he stared at the liquid lazily swirling inside. There was no possible way for him to respond to that statement.

“I’ve known Nola her entire life and she is the sweetest thing. Love her to death. But she needs a rowdy, loud man to shake her up and turn her neat, orderly life upside down. And you need the same in a woman.”

“Does the advice come with the fish fry, or do you charge extra for that?”

“Oh, you do have teeth, Max Crawford. I was beginning to wonder.” She leaned forward and grinned. “You can show your appreciation in your tip. And speaking of tips, here’s one for you—stop pussyfooting around and smash your way through that wall Tori built up around herself.”

“I...” If he squeezed the coffee cup any tighter, it was going to shatter in his hands. “I...don’t know what to say to that.”

“I know she’s younger than you and probably the last woman on earth you’d think is your type, but trust me. That girl is exactly your type.”

“I think I’ll have a slice of Boston cream pie.”

She laughed, the kind of big and booming laugh that made everybody in the diner look. “Don’t want to talk about her, huh? That says a lot.”

He took his time eating the pie and had two more cups of decaf. He shouldn’t, but he wasn’t in any particular rush to get home. Now that he was back to square one, he wasn’t in the mood for the quiet. Sometimes silence was comforting, but sometimes it was isolating.

After all the food and coffee he’d consumed, he decided he’d take a walk around the square before heading home. He could work off some calories and soothe his soul at the same time.

When Ava brought him his change, she couldn’t resist one last shot. “You need shaking up, kiddo. And so does Tori. If you’re a smart man, you’ll be the one doing the shaking.”

He only gave her a polite smile, because he had no intentions of discussing how he felt about Tori with a woman who had a voice like a megaphone and no tact, but he tipped her thirty percent.

* * *

Tori ignored the kitchen timer telling her it was time to get up and move around until she couldn’t take the sound anymore. Then she twisted it to the off position and tossed it back on the desk.

Then she went back to the sci-fi cover she was working on. Screw a break. She needed to work. It was the only thing that could distract her from the fact Max was out on a second date with Nola Kendrick.

Even without looking at the clock, she knew it was getting late. They’d be done with dinner by now and maybe they’d gone for a romantic walk around the square. Maybe the date had gone so well she had invited him back to her house for a drink, or vice versa.

Maybe, right that minute, Max was making love to Nola.

Swearing viciously, Tori hit the undo button to fix what she’d just screwed up and tried to shove Max out of her mind.

She zoomed in on the nose, working with the pixels until she achieved the shape and shading she was looking for. Then she worked on the eyes for a while. It was painstaking work, and she could already feel the pull in her shoulders that would become a painful reminder of ergonomics.

Once she was satisfied with the eyes, she zoomed back out to the full cover view.

And swore again.

She’d made the guy Max Crawford. The hair wasn’t quite right, but there was no mistaking the features. Since this was the fifth book in the author’s series and the leading man had previously
not
looked like Max, that was a problem.

She deleted her work back to her evening starting point and closed up shop. It was time to acknowledge to herself how much she hated Max going out with Nola. She was jealous and she didn’t like sharing him, even if her own relationship was supposed to be strictly friendship.

She wanted Max. There was no denying that at this point. But she wanted him temporarily and it wouldn’t be fair to pull him away from a woman who might want to keep him forever.

The worst part was knowing—or at least strongly believing—that she could have him. She could get Max into her bed, or his, and satisfy the hunger for him that had been building inside her.

But Max wasn’t a fling kind of guy and, when she’d had her fill and it was time to cut him loose, he’d be hurt. She could imagine all too well how he’d look while trying to figure out what he’d done wrong and how he could fix it.

She couldn’t do that to him. All she could do was be his friend and help him go after what he
really
wanted, which was a wife.

And what she could do right now was get out of this apartment before she lost her freaking mind. She pulled on a hoodie, shoved her keys in one pocket and her phone in the other, then went downstairs.

Unfortunately, once she was on the sidewalk, she realized she had no place to go. She walked aimlessly in the dark for a while, before ending up on the bench in the town square, where she’d sat with Max before he asked Nola to have dinner with him.

Taking out her phone, she scrolled through her contacts, looking for somebody to text. But they were probably all snuggled up with their guys and, though Hailey or Liz or even Paige would be willing to be a shoulder for her, she wasn’t going to bother them.

So she sat, trying to get her head on straight so the next time she saw Max, he’d never guess she considered—however briefly—torpedoing the serious relationship he was trying to build.

Maybe she needed some flash cards like the ones she’d made for Max so she could practice reacting to his dating successes. Going on a third date.
That’s great, Max!
She’s finally invited me to her place.
Go, Max!
We made love for the first time.

Okay, no. Hopefully he’d realize some things were for discussion and some things weren’t.

The next step. A ring. The proposal.
That’s great, Max. I’m so thrilled for you. I hope you’re both very happy and that you never yell at her that you wish she was dead.

She couldn’t picture Max ever doing that, but if you’d asked her several years ago, she wouldn’t have been able to picture her father doing it, either.

Movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention and she looked over to see Max walking across the grass toward her. Considering where her thoughts had been for the last few hours, she wasn’t sure she could manage it, but she gave herself the world’s fastest pep talk.

Max was her friend. He was a great guy and he wanted to find that special someone to spend the rest of his life with. She
would
be happy for him, dammit.

“Were you waiting for me?” he asked as he sat on the bench next to her.

“No. I went for a walk and ended up sitting here. I thought you’d be home already, actually. Or...with Nola.”

“After she left, I stayed for dessert.”

“You didn’t leave with her?”

He gave a little shrug. “We’ve decided to be friends.”

Disappointment for him pushed back anything else she might have felt. “I’m sorry, Max. I thought she was such a good match for you.”

“Perhaps too good a match. We’d make very good companions and we could probably have years of polite conversations but, as she said, there was no romantic spark.”

“I really wanted it to work out.” It wasn’t a lie. While she might be conflicted about her feelings, she’d wanted it to work out for
him.

“It was good practice, and now I have another friend. Besides, it helped me refine my list. I’d underestimated the need for chemistry, I suppose.”

Tori turned sideways on the bench so she could see him, pulling her knees up. The temperature had bypassed chilly and gone straight to cold. “Maybe if you were eighty-five, companionship and polite conversation would be enough, but you definitely need spark. Sparks are good.”

“I also need somebody who challenges me. Somebody who gets my sense of humor and pushes me out of my comfort zone.”

Somebody like her.
As soon as the thought entered her mind, Tori tried to crush it. The last thing Max needed was somebody like her, with her issues and her determination not to tie her future happiness to the fleeting concept of love.

“She’s out there, Max.”

For once, she had a hard time deciphering the look he gave her. “I know she is.”

* * *

Max had a small crowd for the game on Sunday. There were usually a couple of weekends each time a new season was almost upon them that the men had to stay home and do chores. And this wouldn’t be the most exciting game on the schedule, with the Patriots so heavily favored to win nobody was even talking about it ahead of time.

Butch was there, of course. Being semi-retired, since Fran handled the money for the gas station and there wasn’t a huge call for tow trucks in Whitford, he got his honey-do list done during the week so it wouldn’t interfere with his weekends. Josh and Katie showed up, and it looked like that would be it.

Max was sorry there wouldn’t be any Swedish meatballs. Or buffalo chicken dip. He sure hoped, if Gavin did go off to pursue his culinary aspirations, he’d give somebody the recipe first.

In an unheard-of turn of events, Butch’s cell phone rang during the second quarter. He listened for a few minutes, scowling, and then shoved it back in his pocket.