Not because she was bored! No, it was the complete opposite. She was full of nervous energy, and didn’t know what to do with any of it other than reaching across the table, grabbing Max’s head with both hands, and planting an enormous kiss on his lips.
That was probablynotthe best course of action right now, and so she placed her hands firmly on her lap.
Now, however, there reallywasn’tanything to do except get lost in Max’s gorgeously dark eyes. Except thatthatwasn’t polite, either.
The silence was excruciating.
Say something, you fool.
“Uh…” she said intelligently.
Max cleared his throat.
“So,” he said awkwardly. “You like Joseph Heller?”
Poppy’s brain fizzled out for several seconds while she tried to work out just wherethathad come from, and how on earth she was supposed to respond to it.
But then she remembered their little meeting in the kitchen last night – how could she forget?! – and the moment when she channeled her inner Neanderthal and demanded,Give me eat.
She let out a jittery laugh. So he’d actually known that she was referencing something, rather than just suffering from a severe vocabulary deficiency. That, at least, was something to be relieved about.
“Sorry, that was just force of habit,” she said. “Sometimes I say it to Geri – that’s my cat – when she’s demanding her dinner. But, yes: I do like Joseph Heller. Well, I likeCatch-22, anyway. Um.”
Apparently this was enough to satisfy Max, because he nodded thoughtfully.
“You have good taste,” he said – and while the words sounded like they were being dredged up with some difficulty, her heart did a little flutter. She’d already noticed yesterday that he wasn’t a very social person, and so for him to be complimenting her, a near-stranger, on her taste in literature… well, it felt like more than she’d dared hope for. She’d been expecting him to get up and leave the moment he’d finished his drink, but here he was, saying nice things to her.
“What do you like to read?” she asked, both to try and keep the conversation from petering out, and because she was interested in learning more about him.
“Oh, a bit of everything, really,” Max said, and while the comment was offhand, Poppy could see his face lighting up, hear his voice getting more lively as he spoke. “I used to read constantly when I was a kid, and I guess I just never stopped.”
Poppy watched, feeling a smile spreading across her face, as he continued on. “I love the classics, but I also love modernliterature, and I went through an autobiography phase a while back – oh, and poetry, of course.”
“Of course,” Poppy echoed. She’d had no idea that he could be this chatty! It was like she’d found some sort of secret ‘on’ switch for his mouth.
She was sorely tempted to ask him about his writing, but she had a feeling that it would be pushing him too far, too fast. The last thing she wanted to do was make him clam up – it really was nice, hearing him talk about something he enjoyed.
“I’m just about to do a re-read ofThe Name of the Rose,” he went on, before he pulled up short, his expression turning from open to self-conscious. “But I’m rambling.”
Dammit, Poppy thought. Out loud, she said, “That one’s been on my to-read list for years, but I never got around to it. If you’re re-reading it, then I assume I can take it as a recommendation? I’m always up for some murderous monk shenanigans.”
“Oh, definitely,” Max said, and then he was off again on another tangent about medieval monks.
Poppy relaxed back in her chair, content to just listen. She’d had no idea that Max could be like this… although really, was it a surprise, given the way he’d been scribbling his notes last night?
Her fingers twitched as she remembered the fountain pen she’d bought for him, sitting there in her purse, and she fought down the urge to just hand it over to him now. How she was going to give it to him without things getting awkward, she didn’t know, but she really did want him to have it.
In the meantime, she was happy to just stare at his gorgeous face and let his words wash over her like gentle ocean waves, happy that he was happy.
She was broken out of her reverie by the arrival of her cake and coffee, and she almost cursed the interruption, because it meant that Max had stopped talking.
On the other hand, though, she reallydidwant to try the cake. Lunch had been a cup of rich, hearty minestrone soup from a little stand by the side of the road, which she’d eaten standing up, cradling the warm cup between her hands. It had been delicious… but notquiteenough to satisfy her.
And anyway, Sadie had given her a coupon for this bakery, and she’d instantly recognized the name from the boxes of cake and cookies at the B&B, so really, what choice had she had?
Distantly she noticed that Max was ordering a coffee too, and her heart skipped a beat – did that mean that he actively wanted to spend more time with her? His empty teacup would have been a perfect excuse for him to leave, if he’d wanted to.
But the larger part of her attention was taken up by theenormouschunk of chai-flavored cheesecake that had been placed down in front of her – it was practically a meal in and of itself. How was she ever going to get through it?!
