Strange Medicine (Dr. Maxwell Thornton Murder Mysteries #1)(44)

“Not really. But how hard can it be?” He looked completely serious. “I made it through medical school. I’m sure I can whip up a meal.”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Something told me he would not respond well to laughter right now. I couldn’t understand his need to keep things even, but if it made him happy, then I was fine with him cooking dinner. “Okay. If that will make you feel like things are more balanced, then you can cook dinner.”

“Do you have meat and things like that, or should I go shopping after work?”

“I have stuff.” Did he even have a recipe in mind, or was he just planning on winging it? I decided I’d snack before I came home just in case.

“Any allergies I should know about?”

“Nope.” The coffee maker beeped, and I poured the hot liquid into my cup. “I’m going to change, and I’ll be right down.” I left the room and hurried up the stairs.

As I dressed, I couldn’t stop thinking about Maxwell’s need to keep things even. His parents must have really done a number on him growing up. I hoped that as he got to know me better, he’d come to accept that I didn’t want anything in return. It was obvious that was a foreign concept to him.

I didn’t want to think too deeply about what my feelings toward him were. Especially with him staying with me. Of course I found him attractive, but I hadn’t invited him here to fuck him. I’d opened my home to him because I wanted him safe, and I knew he’d be much better off here with me. Something about Maxwell brought out my most protective instincts. Even though he came off tough and prickly, I knew he was softer and vulnerable underneath. I was sure of it because I’d seen glimpses.

When I came back down, Maxwell was playing with Grumpy. Well, sort of. I got the feeling he wasn’t sure what to do with the puppy. He stood when I entered the kitchen, and his gaze ran over my body. My heart rate quickened, but I kept my face blank.

“Ready to go?” I asked cheerfully.

“Yes.”

I patted Grumpy, and as we left the kitchen, I quickly pulled a plastic kiddie gate across the entrance to keep him corralled in that area. “It’s easier to clean up any accidents on tile rather than carpet,” I explained, catching Maxwell’s curious look.

“Ahhh. That makes sense.”

We went out to my car, and I started the engine. Maxwell buckled himself in, and then he clasped his hands on his lap, drawing a smile from me. There was just something about his quirkiness that made me happy. I couldn’t explain it. I could tell he annoyed most people, but I found him amusing.

“What happens if you’re able to get prints from the sledgehammer?” he asked.

“If it’s someone in town, then I’d want to talk to them and find out where they were last night about the time someone was demolishing your kitchen.”

“I see.”

“The only reason I can see for someone doing that to your walls is they’re looking for something.”

“Or they just hate me and want me gone.”

I cleared my throat. “While I think you’re an acquired taste, my instincts tell me there’s something in your house that they’re after.”

“Acquired taste. I like that. It makes me feel like a fine wine.”

I laughed. “Okay.”

He fiddled with the air vent. “How would one go about researching the history of my house? I googled my address, but nothing came up other than Ned’s murder.” He shivered. “So gruesome.”

“I asked Mrs. Numi, the local Realtor, to see if the leasing agent might have some information for us. She hasn’t gotten back to me yet.”

“Maybe Al Capone lived there.” He glanced over at me.

“Pretty sure I’d have heard about that.” I pulled in front of his house and parked while keeping the motor running. “Have a good day at work.”

He groaned as he opened his door. “I’m just tired of hearing about Mrs. Potwell’s noisy neighbors and Mr. Fry’s cat that sprays everywhere. I’m a doctor—why are they telling me all these personal things? It’s as if they make appointments simply so they have someone to talk to.”

“You might need to adjust your thinking.”

He scowled and leaned in the door. “How so?”

“You’re not a big-city surgeon anymore. Jobs like this in a small town need a completely different set of skills.”

“Such as?”

“You need to nurture your patients more.”

He curled his lip. “Why?”

“Because that’s what a successful small-town doctor does.”

“Can’t they just book an appointment with the local shrink?”

I sighed. “Didn’t they spend any time on developing a good bedside manner when you were at medical school?”

“Some. But I was more fascinated with the circulatory system.”

I shook my head. “Maxwell, do you want to succeed here in Rainy Dale?”

“Of course. I always strive to succeed.”

“Then look at each patient as a person first and an ailment second.”

“That’s insanity. How am I supposed to treat them if I ignore the ailment?”

“Don’t ignore it. But remember that these humans have feelings too. If they’re sick, they’re often scared. Talking about stupid little things might relax them.”