Falling for Max by Shannon Stacey Read Free Book Online Page B

going to have at least the first date, if not two, with a woman in a restaurant where you’ll be able to see what she orders. If she’s a vegetarian or has any allergies, you’ll probably find out at that point. Having a friend come to your house is different than taking a woman out to dinner.”
    That was true. And if, after a couple of dates, he wasn’t comfortable enough with a woman to ask her if she had any food allergies or preferences, it wouldn’t bode well for their relationship, anyway. He needed to feel as at ease with his date as he did with Tori in order to have a future with her.
    Though he’d had a moment of panic over her fake taste in food, he’d been almost totally free of awkwardness this evening. He’d learned at the diner that talking to Tori was easier than talking to other women. It was going to be very hard to replicate how relaxed he was with Tori, no matter where the date took place.
    He fired up the indoor grill that was his favorite way to cook and went to the fridge to get the marinated kebobs he’d assembled shortly before she’d been due to arrive.
    “Those smell delicious,” she said when they’d been sizzling on the grill for a few minutes.
    “Thank you. I enjoy cooking, which is why I rarely eat in restaurants.”
    “But it’s nice to get out once in a while. At least twice a month, maybe. Just to see people and socialize.”
    “I’m discovering that, and I think I’ll keep visiting the diner on a regular basis.” He turned the kebobs. “I’ll go set the dining room table.”
    “Do you usually eat in the dining room?”
    “No. I usually eat here in the kitchen, unless there’s something on TV I want to watch. Then I eat in the living room.”
    “I don’t mind eating here. There’s no sense dragging everything to the dining room and back.”
    He put out two place settings on the island and, when the kebobs were done, laid them out on a serving platter. After spooning the rice pilaf from the slow cooker to a serving dish, he set them out and then realized he may have screwed up the place settings.
    He’d set the plates and silverware side by side because that’s how the bar stools were—all on one side of the island. But it seemed weird to sit next to her. He felt like he should sit across from her so they could make eye contact while talking.
    “That food looks too good to let it get cold, so make up your mind,” Tori said. “Either move the stool around to the other side, like you want to do, or sit next to me and pretend we’re at the counter at the diner.”
    “Was it that obvious?”
    She shrugged. “You pick an object to look at, as if you’re pondering something, and I think you do it so you don’t make deer-in-the-headlights eye contact when you’re anxious about something.”
    “You’re very perceptive.” And, because of that, he chose to sit next to her instead of across the island from her. It was weird how she seemed to see him more clearly than other people, who were usually content to see what he showed them.
    “I’m an artist. Rendering emotion through body language and facial expressions is kind of what I do, and I’ve always been a people watcher.”
    She helped herself to a kebob and some rice pilaf, and then he did the same. The appreciative sound she made after her first bite of the steak and mushrooms made him feel a small glow of pride. The marinade was one of his own making and it was nice to see somebody else appreciate it.
    “We’re supposed to be chatting so I can get to know you better,” she said between bites, “but this is so good, I don’t want to stop eating long enough to talk.”
    “Enjoy your dinner. We can talk after.”
    They did make small talk while they ate. Mostly about cooking, which wasn’t her forte, and their work. It felt nice to have company during a meal and a renewed commitment to finding a wife hit Max while he carried their dishes to the sink. Tori stepped up next to him at the counter with