He took a sip of his coffee, probably giving himself some time to think. “How do you think you’re going to make me more dateable?”
“We’ll spend some time together and I’ll get to know you a little better so I can help you play up your better qualities. And, like I said, we can have practice conversations. It’ll be fun, like one of those dating makeover shows.”
“So that makes you Professor Higgins and me Eliza Doolittle?”
“Huh?”
“From My Fair Lady.”
“Isn’t that some old musical? Like from the black-and-white days?”
“It’s not black-and-white. And, no, I’m not old enough to have seen it the first time around, either.”
“How old are you?”
“How come women can ask men how old they are, but it’s poor manners for a man to ask a woman the same question?”
“I’m twenty-seven.”
“Now I feel old.” He sighed. “I’m thirty-five.”
“Prime of your life, Max. The perfect time to find yourself a woman. What do you say?”
“I don’t think I’m going to get far sitting at this counter, so why not?”
“I’m busy tomorrow and, from what I’ve heard, Sundays you’ve always got a game on. How’s Monday evening sound? We can get together at your house, where it’s more private.”
“That sounds good. I’d be happy to make dinner.” He picked up his cell phone. “We should exchange numbers. Do you prefer talking or texting?”
“I guess texting, but talking’s easier for longer conversations.” He tapped at his phone, then looked up at her expectantly, so she gave him her cell number. She was pulling her phone out of her back pocket when she heard a telltale shutter sound. “What are you doing?”
“I’m horrible with names, so I like to attach a photo to each contact.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to ask? Then you’d get a nice picture instead of the side of my head while I’m trying to get my phone out of my pocket.”
“I’ll take another. You can say cheese.”
“Smart-ass.” When he pointed the phone at her, she was tempted to flip him the bird, but she settled for a saucy smile. Then, just because she’d had to go through it, she took a picture of him with her phone and saved it with his number. “So Monday, about six?”
“It’s a date.” He grinned. “Not the kind of date I was looking for, but it’s a good start.”
She definitely wasn’t the kind of date he was looking for, since she liked her relationships to end after a few hours and he was looking for until death did they part.
But he was a nice guy and she had a soft spot for underdogs, so she was going to do whatever she could to make sure Max found his Mrs. Crawford.
Chapter Three
Max was in his basement by eight o’clock the next morning, ready to get some work done. It had taken him longer than usual to fall asleep but, once he had, he’d slept soundly and he was well rested enough so his hands would be steady.
Sometimes, if he’d had a rough night or drank too much caffeine, his hands would shake and that wasn’t good when you were painting HO scale models. It was as though a full-size steam locomotive was zapped by a shrink ray until it fit in the palm of his hand while maintaining meticulous detail, right down to hoses and rivets.
As he looked at the shelf labeled Chesapeake and Ohio Railway, looking for a particular shade of yellow paint, he found himself whistling. It wasn’t something he did often, but as he ran the tune through his mind, he realized it was a song from My Fair Lady. Obviously, even if he wasn’t consciously thinking about it, his conversation with Tori was on his mind.
It was encouraging, having a plan. If not for Tori, he would probably have given up after his failed discussion with the woman at the diner and gone back to his usual routine. Now he was not only going to push forward, but he had the support of a friend.
Because it was a Saturday, Max only worked half a day. He was fairly rigid with his schedule because he’d, in the past, gotten so involved with his work, he’d all but lived in the basement. It hadn’t been healthy, so he made himself a schedule that included spending some time aboveground.
He was watching a really bad horror movie while paying bills when his phone rang. Hitting Mute on the remote instead of Pause, because he didn’t think he’d miss much, he answered the call. “Hello?”
“Hi, honey,” his mom said. “Are you working?”
“Nope. Just doing some bills and stuff.” He’d long ago stopped explaining to her he didn’t answer the phone while he was working because, no matter how often he did, she still asked him. “How’s everybody?”