And she was helping him dress for a date. With Nola.
“With jeans,” she said, not wanting to dwell too much on why she wasn’t happier about their plan being a success so far.
He wrinkled his nose. “Jeans? Doesn’t that seem rather casual?”
“You’re going to the Trailside Diner.”
“It’s still a first date. Our lack of dining options shouldn’t impact the thought I put into it.”
He was probably right. “You’re wearing this sweater, though. Let’s look at the pants.”
“There’s a reason that sweater was on top. And the shirt I usually wear under it is the freshly ironed one hanging offset from the others. You’ll find the pants with it.”
When she realized what he was saying, she threw the sweater at him. He caught it easily, but without his hands to prop him up, he fell back on the bed, laughing.
Tori’s breath caught in her throat and she turned back to the closet, hoping like hell the thoughts in her head didn’t show on her face. Her cheeks felt hot, though, so she took her time picking through to grab the shirt and pants he’d ironed.
“Why did you tell me you were wearing your grandfather’s hand-me-down suit coat?”
“Because I thought it was funny.”
“You already knew what you were going to wear.”
“It never hurts to have a second opinion,” he said, and his voice was closer.
She didn’t turn. He’d be too close to her and she was too unsettled to trust herself not to touch him. If she touched him, she wasn’t going to stop touching him until he told her no or she’d had her fill. Either way, it would mess up his date.
“So I came all the way over here for nothing?”
“No, you didn’t.” His voice was definitely close enough so she shouldn’t turn around. “Instead of sitting at my table being anxious and watching the minutes tick by, you’re making me laugh.”
There was something about the way he said it that made her shiver. Holding out the hangers for the shirt and pants in the direction of his voice, she stepped away from it so she could get the hell out of his bedroom. “Here. I’ll wait in the kitchen while you get dressed.”
She was gone before he could say anything else, practically fleeing to his kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water and drank the entire thing, and then she poured some more.
Sitting at the table, she closed her eyes and started listing off the single men of Whitford in her head. It wasn’t a super-appealing list, but she needed somebody to take her mind off Max. Some sweaty sex, a few orgasms and she’d be right as rain again.
“What do you think?”
She opened her eyes as Max stepped into the kitchen. He looked as hot in that sweater as she’d imagined he would, and it was just the right blend of casual and made-an-effort. “Perfect.”
He looked at the clock. “I wish you were working tonight.”
“I think me being at the diner would make it worse, not better.”
“If you were there, you could send me signals or something.”
“No.” She had no intention of spying on his evening out with another woman, whether it was at his request or not. “You’re going to have a good time eating a good meal with a very lovely woman.”
“I hope you’re right.”
She dumped the rest of her water down the drain and set the empty glass beside the sink and not in it, because that’s how Max liked it. “I’m going to get out of your hair. Just relax and be yourself.”
“I’m not very good at being anybody else.”
“You don’t need to be. Let me know how it goes, okay?”
She left then because there didn’t seem to be anything else to say and there was no sense in lingering. It was almost time for him to leave, since he planned to arrive slightly early and pick a nice table. He had the insane idea he might find a place for them to sit that would offer some privacy and shield Nola from the gossip.
Tori knew better. She’d probably be hearing about his date before he was even home, and she’d no doubt hear the details repeatedly during her shifts at the diner in the coming days.
And she’d smile and look happy for him.
*
Max would be the first to admit he wasn’t an expert on social niceties, but even he knew it would be rude to call another woman while sitting across the table from his date.
It was too bad he didn’t have spy gear that would enable him to communicate secretly with Tori, like a 21st century Cyrano de Bergerac, so she could feed him witty and charming lines to woo Nola with. He wasn’t doing a very good job on his own.
His life would probably be a lot easier if he just dated Tori. Unfortunately, she didn’t have the most important quality in a future wife, which was a desire to actually be a wife.
Nola was very nice. Pleasant, even. And she’d arrived only a few minutes after their arranged meeting time.
“What do you like to do in your spare time, Max?”
He moved some of Gavin’s lasagna around on his plate with the fork before forcing himself to set it down. “I like to watch sports, I guess.”