My mother, on the other hand, is playing the field. Incidentally, my dad says one of the reasons he divorced her was because she was always looking for a party. Well, she’s found a few. She’s dating anything with two legs and a wallet.”
Max laughed.
“Oh, you think I’m kidding,” she said, pointing a carrot at him. “I’ll just leave you with this—when I’m dating someone, I have to date him at least six months before I even think of mentioning him to the gang.”
“That’s just good date management,” he said with a laugh. “But it does beg the question—are you dating anyone?”
The question landed with a thud in her head. “Nope.” She sipped her drink, then peered into the empty cup. “I’ve been crazy busy.” Which sounded like a practiced excuse. Which it was. She made herself look up and smile like it didn’t affect her. “And I’m also not that great at meeting people. I tried the online thing, but when I filled out the form, I sounded so boring. I couldn’t think of a single cute username. The only decent photo I have of me is half in shadow. And when I tried to take a selfie, they all make me look so insane. So, for right now, it’s just me and Baxter. And even he kind of appeared on the scene by accident.”
“I see,” Max said.
Carly feared he did see, and with twenty-twenty vision. “You?” she asked. “Fighting off the girls? I bet you’re very popular on campus.”
He looked amused by that. “Why?”
“Because you’re cute! And you’re nice. And you’re smart. That’s a home run, Max. And if you’re rich, it’s a bases loaded home run. You’re going to the Super Bowl.”
“I think you mean World Series. And I’m not rich.” He stretched his legs in front of him and folded his arms across his chest. “But it’s nice to know you think I’m cute.”
His gaze was on her mouth, and it had the effect of making her heart skip around in her chest. “Is that what I said?” She had to be more careful with her loose lips.
“Pretty sure I heard it with my perfect hearing.”
“Then I must have. Well? I do think you’re cute, Max.”
“For the record, I think you’re cute, too.” His eyes met hers. “Amazingly, astoundingly, drop-dead cute.”
The fluttery thing turned liquid and warm and left Carly feeling slightly dizzy. She tried to think of what to say, something like, Then maybe we should date, or Am I reading too much into this, or Do you like to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you? Or Can I crawl inside your shirt and just smell you? Just something light and breezy, something clever and witty, but all she could do was smile like a loon. “Why, thank you, Dr. Sheffington. I’m suddenly feeling a little floofy.”
His gaze drifted lower. “Floofy. I’ll take it.”
The fluttering in Carly got a little more intense. “But you didn’t actually say if there was anyone special?”
“There’s one.”
Figured. She turned away from him, propping her elbows on the table behind her so that she could better contemplate how ridiculous she could be. What, she was going to meet a great guy through a dog mix-up and suddenly find happiness? Only in the movies, girlfriend.
“It’s a little odd.”
“Kinky odd?” she asked with a little too much hope in her voice.
“Just a little one-sided. Her name is Hazel and she’s awesome.”
“Oh man,” Carly said with a groan of laughter. “You had me, professor.”
Max sat up and took her hand. “That’s the kind of smooth operator I am,” he said, and pressed her hand to his very broad chest. He glanced around them, then leaned close. “I don’t want to dispel any illusions you might have about me, especially since you think I’m cute, but I am horrible at dating. I’m horrible at reading women. I honestly can’t tell when someone is flirting with me. I’m terrible at drinks or happy hours—”
Carly gasped and shoved his shoulder. “I’m like that! I’m horrible at happy hours!”
“Right?” he said. “If I ever see a girl I would like to talk to, I can’t think of any sort of opening line. And if she talks to me first, forget it—my small talk game really sucks.”
“Same!” She laughed with delight. “And I never see the right movies—like I never see Oscar movies because I spend my time at superhero movies—”
“Really?”
“Swear. I have a younger brother who used to make me get him comic