She laughed at that, and though it was a tired, not-quite-genuine sound, it made his smile broaden. “The pie tempted me.”
He led her to the cafeteria and flipped on the lights. In this quiet time of night, the place was empty; the cases and buffets were bare. “Take a seat.” Max eased around the sandwich counter and went back into the kitchen, where he found two pieces of marionberry pie, which he covered with vanilla ice cream. Then he made two cups of herb tea and carried a tray out into the dining room and set it down on the table in front of Julia.
“Chamomile tea. To help you sleep,” he said, sliding into the booth seat opposite her. “And marionberry pie. A local favorite.” He handed her a fork.
She stared at him, frowning slightly. “Thanks,” she said after a pause.
“You’re welcome.”
“So, Dr. Cerrasin,” she said after another long silence, “do you make a habit of luring colleagues down to the cafeteria for early morning pie?”
He smiled. “Well, if by colleagues you mean doctors, there aren’t exactly a lot of us. To be honest, I haven’t taken old Doc Fischer out for pie in ages.”
“How about the nurses?”
He heard a tone in her voice and looked up. She was eyeing him over the beige porcelain of her cup. Assessing him. “It sounds to me like you’re asking about my love life.” He smiled. “Is that it, Julia?”
“Love life?” She put a slight emphasis on love. “Do you have one of those? I would be surprised.”
He frowned. “You sure think you know me.”
She took a bite of pie. “Let’s just say I know your kind.”
“No. Let’s not say that. Whoever you’re confusing me with is not sitting at this table. You just met me, Julia.”
“Fair enough. Why don’t you tell me about yourself, then? Are you married?”
“An interesting first question. No. Are you?”
“No.”
“Ever been married?”
“No.”
“Ever get close?”
She glanced down for a second. It was all he needed to know. Someone had broken her heart. He’d bet that it was fairly recent. “Yes.”
“How about you? Have you ever been married?”
“Once. A long time ago.”
That seemed to surprise her. “Kids?”
“No.”
She looked at him sharply, as if she’d heard something in his voice. Their gazes held. Finally, she smiled. “So I guess you can have pie with anyone you’d like.”
“I can.”
“You’ve probably had pie with every woman in town.”
“You give me too much credit. Married women make their own pie.”
“And how about my sister?”
His smile faded. Suddenly the flirting didn’t seem so harmless. “What about her?”
“Have you … had pie with her?”
“A gentleman wouldn’t really answer that, now would he?”
“So you’re a gentleman.”
“Of course.” He was becoming uncomfortable with the course of their conversation. “How is your face feeling? That bruise is getting uglier.”
“We shrinks get popped now and then. Hazards of the trade.”
“You can never quite know what a person will do, can you?”
Her gaze met his. “Knowing is my job. Although by now the whole world knows I missed something important.”
There was nothing he could say, no real comfort he could give, so he stayed quiet.
“No platitudes, Dr. Cerrasin? No ‘God doesn’t give you more than you can bear’ speech?”
“Call me Max. Please.” He looked at her. “And sometimes God breaks your fucking back.”
It was a long moment before she said, “How did He break you, Max?”
He slid out of the booth and stood beside her. “As much as I’d love to keep chatting, I have to be at work at seven. So …”
Julia put the dishes on the tray and slid from the booth.
Max took the tray to the kitchen and put the dishes in the dishwasher, then they walked side by side through the quiet, empty hallways and out to the parking lot.
“I’m driving the red truck,” she said, digging through her purse for the keys.
Max opened the door for her.
She looked up at him. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
She paused, then said, “No more pie for me. Just so you know. Okay?”
He frowned. “But—”
“Thanks again.” She got in the truck, slammed the door shut, and drove away.
EIGHT
Julia refused to let herself think about Max. She had enough on her mind right now without obsessing over some small-town hunk. So what if he intrigued her? Max was definitely a player, and she had no interest in games or the kind of man who played them. That was a lesson Philip had taught her.
She turned onto Olympic Drive. This was the oldest part of town, built back in the thirties for the families of mill workers.
Driving through here was like going back in time. She came to a stop at the T in the road, and there it was, caught in her headlights.