“Oh.” She was going to have to watch that. “Nothing. I remembered something I forgot to do today. Work.”
The game started up again and Katie lost interest in Tori’s facial expressions. Even though Katie’s daily attire usually advertised one of Boston’s sports teams in some way or another, Tori had no idea she was as rabid a fan as she was.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out to see a text from Max.
Are you okay? You keep making faces.
She looked up and found him off to her right, leaning against the wall. The text is coming from inside the house.
She watched his brow furrow and had to stifle a laugh. Obviously he needed to watch more horror movies.
How many beers have you had?
This time the laugh escaped and everybody in the room turned to glare at her. Apparently the Patriots had just done something on the television that wasn’t very funny.
“Sorry. Funny text,” she muttered, holding up the phone to prove she wasn’t amused by their football misfortunes.
Zero beers, she texted back. It was a joke. And I’m fine. I was thinking about work and made a face.
When she looked over, he smiled at her and then tucked his phone back in his pocket. It was sweet that he was worried about her. It was also interesting that he’d been watching her enough to notice she was making faces.
“I’m going to see if there are any of Matt’s Swedish meatballs left,” she told Katie. “You want anything?”
“I’m good. And good luck on the meatballs. They go fast.”
After getting to her feet and making her way through the room, trying not to block anybody’s view for more than a few seconds, she hit the bathroom. Then she took the last two meatballs. She stood at the island and ate them so nobody would ask her for some and force her to admit she’d eaten the last ones.
She wasn’t surprised when Max stepped into the kitchen. He peered into the empty slow cooker, then raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Yes, I ate the last one,” she said. “But don’t tell them. It’s bad enough I had to ask what an ineligible receiver is. They might throw me out.”
“It’s my house.”
She put the lid back on the slow cooker, as if she could hide the evidence. “Good point.”
He dug through Rose’s basket until he found a couple of peanut butter cookies and winked at her on his way back to the living room.
Tori was glad his back was to her because she was pretty sure the smile on her face defined goofy.
*
As much as he enjoyed the company, it was always a bit of a relief when the game was over and his house emptied out. Everybody was good about picking up after themselves, but it still took him a while to put things back to rights.
He didn’t mind. It was part of the routine and it calmed him down after several hours of excitement. He especially didn’t mind today, because Tori stayed to help. She made herself busy, puttering around and picking up, so nobody seemed to think much of her not leaving. Before long, she was the only one left.
“What made you decide to come today?” he asked once they were alone, since he’d been wondering all afternoon.
“Gavin said he was coming and that it was kind of an open-door thing, so I decided to come.”
“You don’t even like sports.”
She walked to the garbage to throw away a couple of paper plates. “Is it okay that I came?”
“Of course.” It was not only okay that she’d come, but he was glad she had. “I just notice when people change their habits, that’s all.”
“Speaking of people and habits, you’re why I came, actually.” For a few seconds her words made his heart beat faster, but she wasn’t done. “I’ve heard about Max the possible serial killer and Max the sports guy and they sounded like two different people. I wanted to see Max the sports guy.”
“I’m just Max. All the time.”
She shook her head, taking a seat at the island. “No, you were different when the guys—and Katie—were here to watch the game.”
“I doubt that.”
“You were comfortable with them, laughing and cheering and trash-talking.”
“It’s notable that I behaved the same way as all the other men in the room?”
She propped her chin on her hand, tilting her head a little sideways as though she was studying him. “Yes, it is. But when Josh and Matt were in the kitchen, talking about trucks, you were more like yourself. You looked like you were paying attention, but you weren’t really part of the conversation.”
He shrugged. “I don’t have a truck.”
“How are you such a guy’s guy when it comes to sports, but so awkward when it comes to everything else? No offense.”
“None taken. My dad and my two brothers are big into sports.”