Falling for Max: Book Nine of The Kowalskis Read online

  “Really?” She drew the word out, sounding pleased, and he smiled. Since the day Max started kindergarten, his mom had worried about his inability to make friends. Thirty years later, it was still a big deal.

  “Her name is Tori. She’s a waitress at the diner where I went for lunch, but she also works from home doing graphic design.”

  “Oh, so she’s an artist, like you. How old is she? Is she smart?”

  Max realized she might be getting the wrong idea. “She’s twenty-seven and she seems smart. But she’s only a friend, Mom.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Is she pretty?”

  “She’s attractive, yes. And easy to talk to. I like her, but we’re not going to date.”

  “We’ll see,” she said, and that was the end of that.

  Once she’d rung off with the promise of calling him again soon, Max unmuted the television, but he didn’t go back to the bills right away. Since the phone was still in his hand, he pulled up the photo album and tapped on the picture of Tori he’d taken last night.

  Yes, she was definitely pretty. Her smile was one his mother would have described as cheeky, and it made her brown eyes crinkle just a little. The picture captured her personality, including her friendliness, and it made him smile.

  Max didn’t usually take to new people in his life so easily, but he was glad he’d taken Josh’s advice to go to the diner. Tori was the perfect person to help him find a wife.

  * * *

  Movie night was a long-standing tradition among some of the women in Whitford. The first Saturday night of each month, they’d gather to watch a movie, eat snacks that weren’t very good for them and, sometimes, have a drink or two. This month it was Hailey’s turn to host, which worked well for Tori. Since they were friends, she’d managed to harass Hailey into grabbing a copy of My Fair Lady from the library and substituting it for the Sandra Bullock movie she’d had planned.

  She got there early and met Hailey’s fiancé on his way out. Matt Barnett was a game warden who, back in the spring, had rescued Tori and Hailey when they got lost in the woods. He’d been on vacation at the time and his scruffiness had gone beyond manly and straight to backwoods hermit. But when he’d moved to Whitford—right next door to Hailey, actually—he’d been transformed into the hot game warden and eventually, despite her attempts not to, Hailey had fallen in love with him. They’d been engaged about a month now, and the house next door was once again empty.

  Tori crouched to give some love to their black Lab, Bear, looking up at Matt. “Did she throw you out?”

  He looked over his shoulder, then shook his head. “This house will be full of women in about a half hour. I didn’t need throwing. Since Liz is coming here, I’m heading to Drew’s.”

  “Beer and baseball?”

  “There might be beer, but we’re catching up on some paperwork and deciding if we have enough interest in a snowmobile safety course next month.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Have fun.”

  As she neared the open front door, Tori could hear a vacuum running, so she didn’t bother knocking. When the screen door closed behind her, she kicked off her shoes and set them on the mat next to Hailey’s before heading to the kitchen.

  She set the plate of cookies on the counter and snuck a few M&M’s out of the trail mix Hailey had made. Then she ate a few more.

  “I’m here,” she called when the vacuum shut off, so she wouldn’t scare Hailey.

  A minute later, her friend stepped into the kitchen. “How can a dog leave that much hair all over my house and not be bald?”

  Hailey’s house was bright and cheery and, before she fell in love with an outdoorsy guy and his dog, it had always been immaculate. Now it was just really clean. “How’s the addition going? I saw it’s all sided now and blends right in with the garage.”

  “It’s almost done. Finally.”

  Tori had thought it was crazy to extend the garage to add a shower room until she was over one day when Matt got home after a work day that had ended with a long struggle to get a deer out of a bad patch of swampy mud. Then she understood why, even if he stripped in the garage, Hailey wouldn’t want him walking through the house and up the stairs to the shower.

  Hailey peeled the plastic wrap off the plate of cookies so she could take one. “So tell me, why are we watching an old musical? I’ve heard that Sandra Bullock movie is funny and I’ve been waiting all month to watch it.”

  “Somebody was talking about some professor and Eliza somebody and a makeover, and I was curious. That’s all.”

  “Who was talking about that?”

  “Max Crawford.”

  Hailey’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned Max Crawford.”

  “I didn’t realize we were keeping track.”

  “Why was he talking about My Fair Lady?”

  Tori knew she shouldn’t say anything, but Hailey was her best friend. “You can’t tell anybody.”

  She nicked another cookie. “Promise.”

  “I’m going to help him find a date. You know, help him be more comfortable talking to women.”

  “This might be a dumb question, but who do you think he’s going to date?”

  Tori tried to come up with a name, but none popped into her head under pressure. “There are plenty of single women in Whitford. I think.”

  “Women who’ll date Max Crawford?”

  Tori frowned at her friend. “What’s that supposed to mean? Max is a nice guy.”

  “Half the town thinks he’s a serial killer.”

  “Oh, come on. Everybody knows that’s just a joke.”

  Hailey shrugged. “Even so, it’s kind of weird that nobody knows how he makes his money.”

  “Probably because it’s nobody’s business.”

  “Maybe you should date him.”

  Tori gave her an are you serious look. “Really? He’s looking for a wife and you know how I feel about marriage. And if you say I just haven’t met the right man yet, I’m leaving. Right after I tell Fran you’re the one who keeps rearranging the canned vegetables on the shelf so they’re not in alphabetical order.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  They heard a knock on the screen door, and then the slight squeak of its hinges. “Hailey?”

  “In the kitchen!”

  Rose Davis walked in with her daughter, Katie, and a big basket of what Tori knew would be amazing baked goods. It didn’t even matter what was under the towel. It would be so delicious, Tori would be hard-pressed not to make herself sick.

  “I’ve been crazy-busy, so I’m claiming credit for half of Rosie’s basket,” Katie said. “I didn’t have time to make or buy anything. What are we watching tonight, anyway?”

  “My Fair Lady.”

  Both women paused, but it was Rose who spoke. “What made you pick that movie?”

  Tori tensed, giving Hailey a look she hoped would remind her she’d promised not to tell anybody about her Max makeover.

  “I thought it would be fun to have a sing-along.” Hailey smiled. “And Audrey Hepburn never goes out of style.”

  Tori’s aunt Jilly showed up next, with Gavin’s buffalo chicken dip, followed closely by Liz and Paige, who’d left Sarah home with Mitch. Nola Kendrick brought homemade soft pretzel rods with a sinful cheese dip, and Fran brought a bag of chips and the makings for margaritas.

  As the movie went on, Tori realized several things. One, they’d all made fun of the movie choice but, strangely enough, they all seemed to know all the words to the songs.

  Two, Liz Kowalski Miller did not have a single margarita. Since she knew Liz usually had a couple of drinks during movie nights and, combined with the mysterious daytime errand Drew had accompanied her on, Tori suspected the town’s gossip mill was going to have some good news to chew on very soon. But, since she wasn’t sure if Liz and Drew had told their families yet, Tori kept her mouth shut.

  And, third—and most importantly—it occurred to her that Nola Kendrick was single. S
he was in her early thirties and worked at the town hall. Her honey-blonde hair was cut into a soft bob, she dressed somewhat conservatively, and she was a very nice lady. A little on the quiet side, but Tori had only really crossed paths with her when she was at work or at movie nights.

  She just might be the perfect woman for Max.

  * * *

  At five-fifty on Monday evening, Max sat at the kitchen island, his hands folded in front of him. As a child, he’d coped with anxious waiting by pacing the floor. When his parents had tried to break the habit by making him sit, he’d drummed his fingers on the table. He didn’t particularly like driving his parents crazy, though, so over time he’d learned to sit quietly with his fingers intertwined so he couldn’t drum them.

  This was the first time he was having a visitor to his home who wasn’t a sports buddy. They weren’t going to watch a game and munch on potluck snacks. Instead, they were going to have conversations and eat a meal together.

  Even though he liked Tori and was already considering her a friend, he wasn’t accustomed to playing the attentive host role. And he’d grown up in a family of social extroverts, so he’d always been able to fade into the background and let them do all the talking.

  When he heard her car pull into the driveway five minutes later, he walked to the door and went out to meet her, so she’d know to come into the kitchen. Nobody ever used the front door.

  “Did you have any trouble finding the house?” he asked, because people always seemed to ask that the first time they had visitors over.

  “It’s Whitford. Believe it or not, I already knew where your house was. I didn’t know it was so cute, though.”

  “Oh, good. I always dreamed of having a cute house,” he said, smiling when she rolled her eyes at his sarcasm.

  While he’d made some changes to the interior— notably to the basement—he’d left the outside primarily as it was when he bought it, including the window boxes that had started their lives as cranberry, but had faded to a dark shade of pink. Miniature white-picket fencing lined the walkway and surrounded the shrubbery along the front of the ranch-style home. He assumed it was the flower boxes that led her to use the word cute.

  “Let me guess,” she said. “It all came with the house.”

  “Actually, yes.” He led her into the kitchen, and she looked around in a casual way, as if she was trying not to be too nosy.

  “We had movie night on Saturday,” she said. “I talked Hailey into showing My Fair Lady.”

  “Ah. So now you get the Professor Higgins and Eliza Doolittle reference.”

  “Yes, but at the cost of watching one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen.”

  Her vehemence surprised him. “While it’s not my favorite musical—which admittedly is not my favorite kind of movie to begin with—I don’t think it was that bad. And I can’t be alone or it wouldn’t be a classic.”

  “I don’t care if the whole world loved it. The movie sucked, Max. He finally realizes he loves her and wants her to stay and, instead of pushing her up against the wall, kissing her until she couldn’t breathe and then banging her right there on the floor, he tells her she can fetch his slippers?”

  Something about the way she said banging her right there on the floor made it hot in the room all of a sudden, and Max moved to stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island, just in case that wasn’t the only physical reaction her words would invoke. It had obviously been too long since his last relationship, which had ended shortly before he left Connecticut.

  “I don’t think banging a woman on the floor was allowed on the big screen in the sixties,” he said.

  “But fetching his slippers? She’s not a Labrador retriever.”

  “From the sound of it, I should cross a willingness to bring me my slippers off of my list of desirable qualities in a wife, then?” She simply stared at him for so long, he finally gave in and smiled. “That was a joke.”

  “I thought it might be. But now I’m wondering if you actually do have a list.”

  “Of course I do.” He paused. “But not in writing because that would be weird.”

  When she laughed, some of the tension that had gripped him before her arrival eased and he felt like himself again as he led her into the living room, pointing out the bathroom door down the hall in case she should need it later.

  “Ah, the infamous couches,” she said when she saw the two oversize leather sofas, one a sectional, and the matching recliner. “And that big TV screen.”

  “They’re comfortable. I like a living room that feels lived in, you know?”

  “It suits you.” Tori flopped in the corner of the sectional couch, which was Katie’s favorite seat when she was over for a game. Maybe women liked corners. Something to keep in mind, anyway.

  “Thank you.”

  “So tell me about this list of desirable wifely qualities you have in your head. What kind of woman do you want to date?”

  “I’d like to date a woman who’s intelligent, friendly and wants to get married and have children. It would be nice if she likes trains, but that’s probably asking too much.”

  She gave him a funny look. “You mentioned trains at the diner, too. Are you one of those guys who chases after trains to take pictures of them?”

  “Sometimes. I like trains.”

  “Okay. What else?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Smart, friendly and wants a family? Come on, Max. Brunette? Blonde? Redhead?”

  “My previous relationships were with blonde women.”

  Tori rolled her eyes. “There’s a shocker.”

  “I don’t have a preference as far as hair and eye color. Or height or weight.” He paused, and gave a little shrug. “I’m just looking for a woman who’ll love me enough to marry me and risk having little odd duck kids. That’s pretty much my list.”

  Chapter Four

  The way Max said those words hit Tori, almost like a physical blow. Somebody had sure done a job on this guy in the past and, once again, she wished she could find that person and slap her—or maybe him—upside the head.

  She’d heard the phrase used about him, of course. He was a little different from most of the other guys, and it was a shorthanded way of saying so. But the idea of Max believing a woman wouldn’t want kids like him made her realize that phrase had burrowed under his skin in a bad way.

  “What woman wouldn’t want kids with your looks and sense of humor?”

  He smiled, and it chased the sadness in his eyes away. “I just need to find her. So where should we start?”

  “Well...” It was worth a shot. “It would help if I knew what your job is.”

  “It would, huh?”

  “What people choose to do for a living says a lot about them.” Maybe if she kept a straight face, he’d believe she had a logical reason for needing the information.

  “It’s hard to explain.”

  “What’s your job title?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  She crossed her arms and gave him a stern look, which probably lost some of its effect because she was nestled into the corner of the couch. “Not really. I’m a book cover designer-slash-waitress.”

  “I guess it would be easier if I just show you.”

  There was no holding back the victory grin as she, somewhat reluctantly, got off the couch. That corner seat was too comfortable for her own good. “I agree.”

  She followed him down the hallway to the basement door. When he just looked at her expectantly, she rolled her eyes and then turned her back so she couldn’t see the number he punched into the security panel. “Way to show trust, Max.”

  “There’s not much sense in having a security code if everybody knows it.”

  “I’m not really everybody.” When she heard the door open, she turned back to him. “Should I call somebody and let them know you’re taking me into your basement?”

  “If I say no, will you think it’s because you don’t need to or because, as a seria
l killer, I wouldn’t want you to do that?”

  She laughed. “Good point.”

  “Also, you’ll need to sign a waiver to be on camera. Standard porn-studio rules.”

  Her mouth dropped open and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it. “You heard about that?”

  “People have a tendency to forget I’m around. For example, if I’m wandering the aisles of the store and Fran gets talking to somebody.”

  She was going to wring Hailey’s neck. Slowly. “That was a joke. You know it was a joke, right? I was trying to illustrate how ridiculous the serial-killer thing is by throwing out another equally stupid story.”

  “I’ve heard a lot of theories, but porn studio’s a new one.”

  “I know the gossip’s probably a pain, but I promise I can keep a secret. I won’t tell anybody—even Hailey— what you do.”

  “Even if it is a porn studio?”

  The idea of Max Crawford having a sex room in his basement should have made her laugh, but she felt a flush of heat over her neck. He was a good-looking guy, even if he was totally wrong for her, and it wasn’t hard to imagine him naked.

  “It would kill me,” she said, trying not to sound like a woman who was picturing him naked, “but even if you’re making porn, I won’t tell Hailey.”

  He flipped a light switch and she followed him down the stairs. When she got to the bottom, she looked around, shaking her head. Trains. The man seriously had a thing for trains.

  “I paint model trains, mostly HO scale brass,” he said, as if that would mean something to her.

  He went to a shelving unit and pulled out a long, thin green box. After pulling off the lid and peeling back the packaging, he showed her an old steam train engine. It was all brass and, as she leaned closer, she could see it was so detailed, it looked real.

  “They usually come to me like this,” he said. “This is a 2-8-0, which means the wheel configuration is...never mind. Anyway, it’s a Consolidation and I’m going to paint it in the B&M livery. In, uh...the colors the Boston and Maine Railroad used. Sorry. That probably makes no sense to you.”