When they reached his car, he freed her arm so he could open his door for her, and then he put his hand on the small of her back to guide her as she stepped off the curb.
The contact, slight as it was, almost made her stumble. Between the affection dream, as she thought of it, and the way his hand on her back sent a warm flood of yearning through her, she must be starving for physical contact more than she thought.
This was Max. Yes, he was incredibly attractive, but he was a sweet, geeky guy she’d felt sympathy for when he bombed trying to talk to Jeanette and she was helping him find a date. No—she was really helping him find a wife.
There was no way she was having any sexual feelings toward Max, no matter how good it felt when he touched her.
She sat on the edge of the passenger seat, thankful when his hand fell away, and then turned, pulling her legs in. In the time between him closing her door and sliding into the driver’s seat, she took a few deep breaths to steady herself.
Max was not for her. Or, rather, she was not for Max. She would be tempted to invite him upstairs after dinner, but he—or rather they—were on a mission that fun, casual sex had no part in.
“It’s a power seat,” he said as he started the car and put it in gear, “so if you’d like to adjust it, the control panel’s on the side.”
“It’s fine, thank you.”
The car was quiet as he navigated through town and hit the main road, and she wondered if he even realized his radio was turned off. A little music turned down low wouldn’t be a bad thing.
She let several miles pass, trying not to fidget, but the silence was too much. As tempting as it was to fill it, it was Max who needed to make the effort. “This would be a good time for small talk.”
His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I’m not very good at small talk.”
“I know that, but what we have going on here is called an awkward silence for a reason.”
He turned the radio on, and it took all of Tori’s willpower not to laugh at him. “That’s not what I had in mind. Try to come up with something to talk about that’s specific to me.”
“You’re often humming or singing. I’ve noticed it before at the diner, if you’re making coffee or something else that’s fairly mindless.”
Tori sighed and looked out the window. That wasn’t exactly what she’d had in mind, either. “Most of the time I don’t even realize I’m doing it. I guess I do it while I’m working.”
“You were singing just now.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Not really, I guess. But it would probably be less noticeable if you sang the same song the radio’s playing.”
“I don’t know that song.”
“What kind of music do you prefer?”
“I’m a country girl.”
He cringed. “Yee-haw.”
“Wow, what an incredibly original thing to say. Let me guess...you like classical and jazz.”
He pointed at the radio. “Does this sound like classical or jazz?”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“It’s The Who. This is... You have horrible taste in music. There. That’s something specific to you.”
She laughed and, after another shake of his head to show his disbelief she hadn’t recognized the song, he joined in. He spent the rest of the drive quizzing her about bands and songs, feigning shock when she recognized one. It probably wasn’t great first-date conversation, but they laughed a lot as the miles passed.
Once he found a space in the restaurant’s parking lot, Max hurried around to her side of the car and opened her door. She should probably warn him that not everybody was into chivalry and he shouldn’t say anything if his date opened her own door before he could get there.
“The space is kind of tight,” he said before she had a chance to speak. “I want to make sure you don’t ding the other car with my door.”
Oh, Max. “You’re a true romantic.”
He held out his hand to help her out, while keeping a firm grasp on the door so it wouldn’t open any further, and she placed her palm against his. Fingers closing around hers, he gave a little tug.
He hadn’t been kidding about the parking being tight and with her on her feet and him guarding against door dings, there wasn’t a lot of space between her body and his. How she was going to get by him without full body contact was a mystery.
She heard him breathe in deeply. “You smell like fruit.”
This time when she laughed he only gave her a puzzled look, which made her laugh harder. He put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her sideways enough so he could close the door, then hit the button on his fob to lock the car.
“That was a compliment specific to you,” he said in a confused tone that did nothing to dampen her amusement.
“Was it a compliment? It was hard to tell.”
He offered his arm and she took it, trying to compose herself as they walked across the parking lot.
“I was trying to tell you that you smell nice.”
She squeezed his forearm. “Then just say that. You didn’t need to be so specific.”