Chapter 7 #2
“You finish it,” she said, nudging the plate toward Max. She could’ve happily done so herself, but she really did want him to have it.
“You sure?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Positive.”
Even though there was only a tiny amount left, he took his time, clearly savoring every mouthful.
I’d like to see him savoring a different kind of mouthful, she thought, before her face heated up hotter than it ever had before. Surely she was fire-engine red at this point, and she sipped at her coffee in an attempt to distract herself.
Max finished the cake, scraping around the plate for every last morsel, before looking up. His expression changed from satisfied to concerned.
“Are you okay?” he asked, clearly worried. “You look like you’re overheated.”
“I’m fine!” she squeaked. “My coffee was just a bit hot, is all.”
He looked like he wasn’t buying the excuse, and fair enough – her coffee was room temperature, at this point. Quickly she added, “And I never did take my hat off, either. Just a little bit warm.”
That much, at least, was true – she’d been so surprised to see him that she hadn’t taken off any layers.
She hastily pulled off her beret, scarf, and jacket, hoping to any higher power that would listen that her hair hadn’t been flattened too badly.
“Whew!” she said, fanning her face melodramatically. “That’s much better.”
Max still didn’t look entirely like he was buying her act, but at least he seemed somewhat mollified.
Looking around for a change of topic to distract him with, Poppy racked her brain for something to say.
“Oh!” she said. “Did you see the framed copy of Dish & Plate on the wall by the front counter? This bakery got reviewed by Aubrey Z.!”
She was sure that that would be enough to distract Max – between his love of cake and his love of reading, surely he would know who Aubrey Z. was.
It was therefore with surprise and a little dismay that she watched Max’s eyebrows shoot up for a moment, before his nose wrinkled.
“Who?” he said, in an odd tone of voice.
Poppy blinked. She was sure that Max would know who Aubrey Z. was – there weren’t many people who weren’t at least vaguely familiar with the name.
“Aubrey Z.,” she said. “The food critic. Super famous. Surely someone as well-read as you has heard of him?”
Max looked a little like he’d swallowed something unpleasant, which really was just strange. Either he’d heard of Aubrey Z., or he hadn’t. There was no need for this kind of reaction.
“Oh, that guy,” he said eventually, before sliding into a silence that made it clear he had no intention of saying anything further on the subject.
“Or girl,” she said. Aubrey Z.’s identity was one of the most closely-guarded secrets in the country. She wasn’t sure how they managed to do it – surely someone would have to find out and spill the beans at some point?
“Oh yeah, of course,” he said, his eyes flitting about. “That person.”
It was clear that he still didn’t want to discuss the topic, but that just made Poppy want to discuss it more.
“Not a fan?” she asked.
“… You could say that,” he said grudgingly. “They’re overrated.”
Poppy was lost for words for a moment.
“Wow,” she said finally. “Is it their writing you don’t like, or their opinions on food?”
“Their writing is pretentious,” Max said peevishly.
“Pretentious? From the guy who reads literature about medieval monks?”
“I just think they sound like, I don’t know,” Max went on mulishly, clearly warming to his argument. “Like some snooty guy who wears a cravat. Maybe he has slicked-back hair and a pencil mustache. Whatever it is, I don’t like it.”
Poppy laughed incredulously. “So you’ve gone from I don’t know who that is to having a fully-formed mental image of this person, have you?
There are hidden depths to you that I never would have imagined.
Besides,” she added, “wouldn’t a secret restaurant reviewer have to look like a normal person in order to keep their secret status?
I don’t think a pompous guy with a cravat could manage that.
That’s as ludicrous as saying that you could be a secret restaurant reviewer. ”
Max’s eyes went as large as saucers, and Poppy quickly added, “No offense! I’m not comparing you to Aubrey Z., don’t worry. But seriously, you could never keep that kind of thing a secret. Everyone would be staring at you and begging for autographs. You’d have your own TV show.”
Although, now that Poppy thought about it, Max really didn’t seem to draw a lot of attention.
Even his height alone should have been enough to get people noticing him, never mind his astonishingly good looks – and yet, the waitresses didn’t seem to have given him more than a cursory glance when talking to him.
Which was super odd, given how she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him.
Maybe they’re just consummate professionals, she thought. Unlike me, who is in danger of combusting whenever I get within ten feet of him.
In any case, Max seemed to be struggling to respond to her joking comment about him being a restaurant reviewer, and she decided to put him out of his misery.
“It’s okay, no more Aubrey Z. talk,” she said, holding up her hands. “It’s clear that they’re a sore spot for you. Change of topic.”
She thought for a moment. “So, what do you do for a living?”
Max’s face went from the briefest flash of relief to what Poppy could only describe as downright horror in the space of milliseconds.
What now? she thought in bewilderment. Is he actually writing the next great romance novel? Or maybe he’s unemployed. Well, if he is, then he’s in good company, at least.
“I just lost my job, myself,” she went on, trying to reassure him that if he was unemployed, then it didn’t bother her at all.
A little alarm in her head started ringing, but she ignored it – she wanted to be honest with Max, even if it meant potentially putting him off.
“Boss ran off with a bunch of embezzled money and left the rest of us to rot. So I’m enjoying my freedom for a few days before I embark upon the joys of job hunting. ”
Max looked confused for a moment, like he was trying to take all of this information in while still worrying about having to tell her what his job was. But then clearly what she’d said sank in, because his expression became sympathetic.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice genuine. “That’s bullshit, pardon my French. Did they catch the bastard?”
Poppy shook her head, even as her heart glowed with a happy warmth at the protectiveness in his voice. “No, she’s still on the lam. But as angry as I am about all of it, I have to admit that I’m a little grateful – if it hadn’t been for her, I never would’ve met you.”
She froze, her mouth stuck hanging open and refusing to obey her instructions to close, dammit.
She had not meant to say that.
Oh God, she thought. Have I blown it?
Max, for his part, was staring right back at her with those dark, dark eyes, looking as stunned as she felt.
“I’m sorry,” she managed to get out. “I didn’t mean to – I mean, not that I don’t like you – can we just… forget I said anything?”
Max continued to stare at her, and Poppy willed him to say something, anything, even if it was awful, just to put her out of her misery.
He opened his mouth –
“Oh! I didn’t realize you were here with someone!”
The waitress from earlier – Sylvie, according to her name tag – was standing by the table, holding a small box and looking strangely confused.
Poppy had to admit that Sylvie wasn’t the only one who was confused. She was confused by Sylvie’s confusion. Sylvie had been the one to offer her the seat at Max’s table – why would she not know that they were both here? Had she assumed that Max had already left? That had to be it.
Max looked up, also looking confused, not to mention somewhat wretched. There was clearly something going on with him.
“These macarons are on the house,” said Sylvie, holding out the box to Poppy.
“We’re testing out some new flavors, so if you happen to pass by here again while you’re in town, feel free to drop in and tell us which ones you like best!
” Her eyes shone with mischief as she looked back and forth between Poppy and Max.
“Maybe the two of you can enjoy them together.”
“Uh,” said Poppy, feeling a little overwhelmed. “I mean, thank you – that’s very generous. But we’re not –”
“It’s no problem,” said Sylvie, before she blinked, looking a little vague. Her gaze slid away from Max, wandering for a moment before it fixed upon Poppy. “Sorry, where was I? Oh yes, the macarons. I hope you enjoy them, ma’am.”
Sylvie left the table before Poppy could get her brain in gear enough to respond.
Poppy turned to face Max, who looked mildly guilty. Why, Poppy wasn’t sure.
“… Well,” Poppy said awkwardly, looking at the little box in her hands. “I guess these are for both of us.”
“I guess so,” said Max. “But you can have them. I don’t mind.”
“No, I want to share them,” Poppy said. “She definitely intended them for both of us, before… before whatever that was. I can leave half of them in the B&B kitchen for you, if you like?”
Max definitely had an odd expression on his face – one that Poppy couldn’t quite pin down.
“If you insist,” he said eventually.
“I do.” Her voice was firm.
They sat in silence for another long moment, before Poppy cleared her throat, feeling a sudden decisiveness taking control of her.
“Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?” she asked.
Max looked a little surprised, but then he shook his head. “No.”
“Neither do I.” She took a breath, steeling herself. “Would you like to spend the afternoon with me? No pressure,” she added quickly.
Max tilted his head, as if he was trying to work out her motivations… although all it did was make his hair hang around his eyes in a way that made him look kind of mysterious. Poppy did her best to hide her swoon.
As if coming to some sort of decision, he nodded. “I would,” he said eventually. “As long as that’s what you want to do.”
Poppy’s heart fluttered, and it was all she could do not to laugh giddily. “I would like nothing more,” she said honestly, and it was with a feeling of relief that she saw the hint of a smile pulling up the corners of Max’s mouth.
She tucked the macarons into her purse, and her fingers brushed the box containing the pen.
Soon, she promised herself. When the time is right.
“So,” she said, withdrawing her hand from her purse. “Where should we go?”