Strange Medicine (Dr. Maxwell Thornton Murder Mysteries #1)(20)

I think I’d surprised Maxwell as much as myself when I’d invited him to walk with me and Grumpy and then to dinner. Of course, the fact he’d been willing to join me and my pup and then eat with me had also been a shock. A pleasant one. The more time I spent with Maxwell, the more attracted to him I was. I knew better than to show it. I could sense he was ambivalent about me. There was an awareness between us, but that didn’t mean he wanted to act on it, and I respected that.

When the pizza man arrived, I paid as promised and then carried the big flat box to the back patio. Maxwell was at the table, and his eyes lit up at the sight of food.

“Finally. I’m starving.” He handed me a plate and then opened the box. He sniffed the air and sighed. “I haven’t had pizza in years.”

I widened my eyes. “Why?”

He pulled a slice from the box, breaking a long, gooey string of cheese with his other hand. “I worked really long hours. I usually just ate a vending machine sandwich from the hospital on the drive home and went straight to bed.”

I gave him a horrified look. “That sounds depressing.”

He shrugged and sat down. He took a bite of pizza and groaned with pleasure. “So good,” he mumbled, his mouth full of food.

I grinned and helped myself to three slices. I didn’t see the point of pretending I wasn’t going to have more than one. “I have pizza once a week. It’s a tradition.”

“I eat canned soup a lot.” He balanced on the back legs of his chair as he spoke.

I snorted. “Yeah, Girdy told me.”

His chair bumped down, and he leaned forward. “What?” His voice was borderline shrill. “Why would Girdy have discussed my eating habits with you?”

My face warmed, and I was glad my mouth was full. It gave me time to think of an answer that was less embarrassing than the truth. I hadn’t exactly pumped Girdy for information about Maxwell, but I also hadn’t discouraged her from sharing too much. “It just kind of came up because I was discussing how I needed to eat healthier,” I said.

He squinted. “You were talking about eating healthier and Girdy just volunteered that I eat canned soup?”

I laughed, fully aware my face was red. “Something like that.”

His mouth twisted as if he didn’t believe me.

“She doesn’t think canned soup is good for you, and I was talking about eating healthy so…” I grimaced.

He continued to stare at me with a frown.

“Anyway.” I held up my slice. “This pizza is really good considering it’s vegetarian.” I tried to change the subject.

He set his slice down and frowned. “Is the entire town gossiping about me still?” He sounded frustrated. “I’d hoped by now there would be something else to talk about.”

“Give it a month.”

He looked unconvinced. “I thought I’d have twice the privacy here, and I have much less than when I was in the city.”

“What does it matter if people talk about you?” I finished off one slice and started on the next one. “People talk about me too.”

“Oh, God. That’s not reassuring at all. You’ve lived here all your life and they still talk about you.” He stood abruptly. “My office is closed tomorrow, so I’m having a beer. Would you like one?”

“Um, sure.” I watched him go inside the house. My gaze was drawn to his narrow hips and how nicely his jeans hugged his lean thighs. A nudge of lust went through me, and I tugged my gaze away. Maxwell would probably avoid me forever if I made the mistake of hitting on him.

He returned and set a beer in front of me. Then he sat and took a long pull off his bottle, his throat muscles moving up and down as he swallowed. I had to work hard to push away thoughts of licking his Adam’s apple and nibbling my way up to those full lips of his. I hadn’t really been this turned on by someone I didn’t know in a long time. It made me feel like a high school kid in a way. I didn’t get pulse-spiking crushes anymore. But I always felt a heady excitement when I caught a glimpse of Maxwell in town. If we’d been younger, I might have even offered to carry his books home for him.

He caught me watching him. “What do they gossip about with you?”

I gave an uneasy laugh and sipped my beer. It was a hot night, and the cold liquid slid down my throat and cooled my insides. “Just about every aspect of my life. They also like to make up stuff.”

“Yeah?” He lifted one perfect brow. “Like what?”

I didn’t answer right away. Instead I finished off another piece of pizza and drank half my beer. I wondered what he’d say if I told him the truth: that people in town thought we were having an affair.

“Is it too horrible to talk about?” he asked with a smirk.

“Not to me. You might think so.”

He looked confused. “What does that mean?”

Maybe it was the beer or maybe just his challenging tone, but I decided to be honest. “They think you and I are having an affair.”

“What?” He’d been midswallow, and he coughed and patted his chest. “Why? Why would they think that?” His cheeks were flushed.

I laughed. “Because they like to gossip, and if there isn’t anything exciting going on, they always seem to invent something.”