“Amory? You must be Sean’s mother,” Lizzie remarked. “And I guess that makes you Jess’s mother-in-law, too.” She nudged Mia. “We love Jess.” Mia nodded, still silent.
Mary Amory grinned. “I love Jess, too.” She smiled down at Mia. “She’s mentioned you quite a bit.” Jess had done some of the babysitting before Angelica’s mother had come to town and taken everything over with Big Grandma Energy.
Mia smiled shyly, but her previous outgoing attitude had disappeared. She still struggled with new people a bit, returning to her introverted ways when meeting strangers. Her therapist had assured Max it was nothing to worry about.
“So,” Max said, trying to steer the conversation to its conclusion. While he’d been told not to worry about Mia’s shyness, he didn’t want to subject her to something that made her uncomfortable if he didn’t have to. “Are you two finished?”
Mia and Lizzie nodded in unison.
“Well, I do love a nice family shopping trip. You all look so happy together.” Mrs. Amory beamed at all three of them.
“Oh, we’re not—”
“We don’t—”
Max and Lizzie spoke at the same time, and then glanced at each other. A slight flush was rising on Lizzie’s cheeks, and Max felt his own reddening.
Mary appeared oblivious. “It’s been lovely running into you! Enjoy your day. I’ve got more shopping to do. In the baby section.” She looked like she might explode with excitement at the thought of her impending grandchild, and Max hastened to get his not-quite-family away.
“Nice to see you,” he called over his shoulder as he shepherded Lizzie and Mia out of the embarrassment zone.
He didn’t realize he had his arm around Lizzie’s waist until Mia pulled free of his other hand as they reached the line for the cash register, giving them a look that was alarmingly speculative and too much like Mary’s had been a few seconds before. He yanked away, and Lizzie looked up at him, startled. Her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. It was so easy to be comfortable together, and they slipped into a family unit so quickly. Max honestly wasn’t all that sure he wanted to slip back out.
Maybe Mary Amory had been right after all.
16
Lizzie pulled into a parking space at St. Aloysius and checked her reflection in the rearview mirror to make sure that she was presentable. She hadn’t planned on coming tonight, but when Mia had called her up yesterday afternoon and said it would mean a lot to her, how could she say no?
Ever since their trip to Kohl’s a few weeks ago, she and Mia had been spending a lot of time together. First, Lizzie had driven her to the library to photocopy a handful of pages from an out-of-print book for a project she was working on for school. Then she’d taught her how to play chess for a different school project.
And now that Mia was displaying some of her artwork for her school’s annual exhibit, she’d come along for this too, even though she’d been worried it might be awkward. The only reason Lizzie hadn’t begged off was because Angelica had assured her everyone else was coming, too. Except here Lizzie was in the parking lot, and she didn’t recognize a single car other than Max’s. Unless they’d all suddenly taken up clowning, eight adults hadn’t ridden with him.
Maybe she was early. Lizzie checked the clock on her dashboard to find that no, she was actually late. Muttering under her breath about the reliability of her new friends, she opened her car door and stepped out. Striding toward the low brick building with her head bent forward against the cold, she didn’t see the hard wall of male muscle looming in front of her until she smacked into it and careened backward. In the time it took her to let out a startled oof, a pair of hands shot out to pull her upright.
“Thank you, I—” Her gaze shot up, and she locked eyes with Max.
“Lizzie?”
“Oh, hello. I, um, didn’t see you there.” Her voice sounded more breathy than usual, but it was easy to blame it on her surprise—not the fact that he was so handsome in his dark denim jeans and burgundy cashmere sweater, the deep, vibrant color setting off the amber in his irises so perfectly that she found it hard to breathe.
His lips quirked to the side. “So I gathered.” He stood smiling down at her, his palms still locked around her biceps, as she looked up into eyes that flashed with good humor.
“Mia invited me,” she blurted after several seconds of quiet stretched between them.
“Yeah, she said she was going to.” His palms coasted slowly down the length of her arms, his eyes following their movement until he reached her fingers. He squeezed them gently, hooked their pinkies together ever so briefly, and then dragged his hands away. “I hope that was okay.”
It was the most innocent of touches, but Lizzie felt it deep in her bones—and elsewhere. Had a simple caress ever been so tantalizing? She was thankful she’d decided to wear a turtleneck so he wouldn’t see the goosebumps that had broken out along her arms.
“Of course. You know I adore Mia.”
“I do know that.”
Lizzie watched as the humor faded from his gaze and was replaced with a look of pure longing. She recognized the look; she frequently wore it herself. Sometimes, when she was feeling particularly weak, she wondered why they continued to fight this thing that existed between them. Sometimes, in the quiet of her heart, she thought her career might not be worth it. But then Lizzie would remember who she was and how hard she’d worked to achieve everything that she had, and she’d bolster her resolve all over again.
But standing outside Mia’s school in the chilly February evening in front of Max, she found herself back in one of her weak moments.
“Should I go?” she whispered, pushing her hair behind her ears in an effort to keep her hands busy. Otherwise, she might be tempted to cup his cheek in her palm and rub her thumb over his stubble. He shaved every morning, she knew, but come evening, his jaw would be shadowed with the beginnings of what would be a thick, dark beard if he ever let it grow for more than a day. She’d seen traces of it the night she’d spent at his house, and ever since then she’d secretly wondered if it would be soft to the touch if he grew it out. She also wondered how it would feel between her thighs.
He shot a quick glance over his shoulder toward the school and then brought his gaze back around to her. “No, actually, but I’d avoid room 102 if I were you.”
“Why? What’s in there?”
He chuckled and shook his head in bemusement. “More than I wanted to see about religious instruction. Nuns, man. I think they forget these are just kids.”
“Let me guess, lots of fire and brimstone?”
“One of the third graders made a diorama representing the Gates of Hell.”
“No!”
He chuckled again. “Yes.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, wow.”
Their conversation tapered off, and while Lizzie knew she should move on, she stayed rooted to her spot.
So did Max.
Eventually, his smile faded. “How are you, Lizzie?” He moved to touch her, but then—almost as if he thought better of it—dropped his hand back down to his side where his fingertips beat a rhythm against his thigh.
She swallowed deeply. “I’m … okay.” She’d been tempted to say she was good, but she’d never lied to Max before, and she didn’t intend to start now. “Still trying to figure some things out, you know?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I know.”
“How are you?”
He rocked back on his heels and blew out a breath. “The truth?”
“Always.”
“I miss you,” he whispered. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but before she could get the unknown words out, he continued. “I know why we can’t be together, and I respect that. I just … well, I miss my friend. Noah’s meme game is seriously lacking.” He smiled then, but Lizzie noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“If it makes you feel any better, Angelica’s is pretty terrible, too.”
His lips quirked. “S
peaking of, are you going over there tomorrow night?”
“I don’t know,” she hedged, wondering what his plans were. Angelica had sent her an invitation to a dinner party yesterday, but … “It seems more like a couples thing, don’t you think?”
“I’m kind of used to it by now, to be honest. With them all paired off, I’m the lone hold out.” Max chuckled and scratched his chin.
“The lone holdout,” she repeated slowly.
How long would that last though? Every day she woke up wondering if today was the day some beautiful, smart, cultured woman would walk into Frankie’s and steal him away. Not that he was hers, of course, but she hated to think of him as anyone else’s either. It was wildly unfair of her, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“It’s not so bad, I swear,” he continued. “But if you were to come, I’d have a friend to keep me company when Iain and Naomi start sucking face across the table.”
“So I’d be saving you then, is what you’re saying?” She injected her voice with as much false humor as she could muster. She couldn’t let him know just how badly she wanted to be the one sucking face. Although maybe not at the dinner table.
He nodded, his tongue flicking out to lick a path over his bottom lip, and wild horses couldn’t have dragged Lizzie’s gaze away. “Yes, exactly. So you’ll come?”
Her mind was telling her to say no, but her heart was urging her to say yes. In the end, she went with her heart. “Yeah, I’ll come.”
There was coincidence, and then there was conspiracy, and Lizzie was beginning to think her repeated run-ins with a certain sexy chef were one big old conspiracy.
Not by him, mind you. Every time they ran into each other, he seemed just as surprised—if not more so—to see her. Not including last week’s art show at Mia’s school and subsequent dinner party, this was the sixth time this month she’d been invited somewhere only for Max to be leaving just as she arrived, or arriving just as she left, or the rest of the gang to be absent entirely. No doubt about it, his friends were working overtime to make sure they spent time together.
It would have been hilarious ... if it weren’t happening to her. But since it was, it was just frustrating instead.
She might not be actively avoiding Max any longer, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still worried about the state of her license. If only she could get clarification one way or the other, things would be so much easier. As it was, she continued to try and find an answer to the questions plaguing her every waking moment while she waited to hear back from the positions she’d applied to.
Over the past couple of weeks, she’d spoken with a lawyer who specialized in family court, a therapist, and one of her former professors. The lawyer had glibly assured Lizzie there was no cause for concern if she were to pursue a romantic relationship with Max, but had also added that if anyone did try to revoke her license or sue her, the firm would be happy to take her case. She couldn’t help but feel like their advice was more about what they could gain than her happiness and well-being.
The therapist had been even less help than the lawyer. What had started off as a fairly straight-forward conversation had ended with Lizzie being directed to talk about her feelings regarding her dead parents—a topic that had been analyzed ad nauseum when she was a teenager. While there was a lot about her relationship with Max that she didn’t understand, she knew well enough that it had absolutely nothing to do with the similarities between herself and Mia.
And her former professor? Well, the woman might actually be senile now, because she’d sworn a lot more than Lizzie had remembered from her lectures. Plus, twice during their conversation, she’d gone off on a rant about how The Man was sticking it to Lizzie. Frankly, she hadn’t been sure if Professor Wilkinson meant figuratively or literally, since she’d also made boom chicka boom boom sounds while thrusting her hips suggestively. It had been a deeply alarming experience.
Despite Lizzie’s best efforts, she was no closer to finding a solution to her can-I-or-can’t-I? problem than she’d been when this whole thing started, and she still didn’t have a job. But since she couldn’t find anything concrete telling her it was forbidden to simply be friends with Max either, she’d decided to stop fighting it. Which meant inviting him to sit next to her during the mid-day screening of the latest big budget heist movie was entirely on the up-and-up.
“Fancy meeting you here,” she said, strolling up behind him in the concession line.
He glanced over his shoulder, and then turned around to face her, his mouth split into a friendly, happy smile. “Hey, you,” he said, leaning down to envelop her in a tight hug.
She tried not to hyperventilate as his arms wrapped around her. “Hey,” she said back when he stepped away and shoved his hands down into the front pockets of his jeans. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been dying to see this movie, but between Mia’s schedule, the restaurant, and prepping for Noah and Angelica’s wedding, I haven’t had the time. Wendy finally kicked me out of the restaurant, threatening to reveal all the spoilers if I didn’t just go already.”
Lizzie laughed. She didn’t know Wendy well, but she’d heard enough stories about Max’s chef de cuisine to know the woman would absolutely make good on her threats.
“What about you?” he asked.
Lizzie hated to admit it to anyone, least of all Max, but the truth was, she was bored out of her mind sitting home alone in her house day after day, so when Maeve had asked her to join her, she’d jumped at the chance despite not having seen the two previous movies in the franchise. Unfortunately, Maeve canceled at the very last minute—something about stills and pressure valves at the distillery. But since Lizzie was already dressed and heading down the highway, she’d decided to go alone.
“I was supposed to meet Maeve here, but something came up so …” she shrugged. Honestly, the way things were going, she wasn’t all that surprised to see Max here instead of Maeve.
His mouth turned down into a frown. “Weird. Ben said yesterday he might join me, but then this morning he texted to say he was taking Maeve up to Mendocino instead.” His brows deepened into a vee. “You don’t think—”
Lizzie barely managed to contain her laughter as he came the same realization she’d had several days ago. “—that this was all a set up?”
“A set up,” he stated flatly.
“Yes, exactly. I mean, how many times have we ‘coincidentally’ run into each other lately?” She held up her hands to make air quotes.
A rueful smile tugged his lips to the side. “I’d expect this from Angelica, but Ben and Iain are a surprise. Those bastards.”
“It’s not just your friends though,” she pointed out. “I’m pretty sure Mia’s in on it too.”
“Mia? How?”
She tilted her head and gave him a look. “That girl calls me practically every day, and I finally figured out the other day it wasn’t just to chat. She’s been getting my schedule, and then, I believe, ferrying it to Naomi, who passes it along to Angelica. I’m convinced it’s one big conspiracy to have us spend time together.”
He chuckled. “They’re good.”
She nodded. “They are.”
“You said you figured it all out the other day?”
“Honestly, I’ve had my suspicions for awhile.”
“And yet you still came when Maeve invited you to see a movie,” he said, his voice laced with something warm and a little bit cocky. Max wasn’t an arrogant man by any means, but Lizzie couldn’t lie—confidence looked good on him.
“And still I came,” she agreed as her heart kicked wildly against her chest.
Eyes the color of her favorite bourbon roved her face. “Well, I’m glad you did.”
“Yeah, me too,” she whispered.
He rocked back on his heels. “It might be presumptuous, but what are you doing after the movie?”
“Maeve and I were supposed to get dinner, so …” She shrugged. When Maeve had canceled, Lizzie ha
d assumed she’d just head home after the movie and heat up another in a long line of bland microwave meals.
“Or we could go grab dinner,” he suggested, his voice suffused with hope.
Briefly, Lizzie wondered if Max knew he wore his heart on his sleeve. Part of her liked the idea that he did know, but didn’t care. There was something supremely sexy about a man who was comfortable sharing his feelings.
“That sounds great,” she said, as they made their way side-by-side into the darkened theater.
17
I love her. I love her. IloveherIloveherIloveher. The litany had been charging through Max’s mind for weeks and it showed no sign of abating.
And apparently his friends knew it too. Once Lizzie had clued him in on what they’d been doing, he’d been torn between a sense of indignation at their meddling and one of sheer gratitude. He would never have been able to get her to all of the events and places they’d conveniently run into each other on his own, especially not when she’d been scrupulously avoiding him.
Thankfully, that seemed like a thing of the past. Although Max still didn’t know what her career plans were; over dinner the other night, she’d told him that she’d applied to several jobs and was just waiting to hear back. More surprisingly, she had also shyly confessed that she’d applied to graduate school, hoping to get into a program for children’s play therapy. He’d listened to her explanation of the field and marveled—both at how she practically glowed from within while describing it, and how he’d instantly known it was perfect for her. Something he’d had no problem telling her. She’d flushed with pleasure and cautioned him not to get too excited; it had been a long time since she’d been in school.
“Yeah, but you have years of experience in a related field,” he’d pointed out. “They’d be nuts not to accept you.”
“From your lips to the admissions officer’s ears,” she’d said, and they’d moved on to other topics.
It had been a long time since Max had sat around talking until two o’clock in the morning, and he’d paid dearly for it the next day with a raging headache that no amount of coffee could penetrate, but he wouldn’t have traded those long hours with her for anything in the world.
The Chef's Cutie (The River Hill Series Book 5) Page 13