by Lisa Wells
“I haven’t been in jail,” she snapped. Good lord. She did not need that rumor floating around town.
“If not jail,” Bill said, “then what?” He eyeballed Max much like a bull does a red cape. “Sniffing richer pastures?”
Fuck. She hadn’t expected Bill to be here. “You damn troublemaker. You know better than most I like the pastures on this side of the fence.”
Max leaned down and whispered into her ear. “That’s because you haven’t tried the grass on the other side.” His tone vibrated fifty-shades-of-gray naughty, causing her to want to experience all the things his tone promised he was capable of doing to a woman.
Bill frowned.
“I’ve not been doing any moonlight grazing,” Aggie said.
Like a starving man at a banquet, Bill looked her over. An act meant to piss off Max. “Talk’s cheap.”
Max draped an arm around her shoulders, causing Bill to stiffen.
“Good thing talk’s cheap,” Aggie said, drawing Bill’s attention back to her, “because unless you’ve recently won the lottery, all you can afford is cheap.” Although she and Bill weren’t an item, he could be territorial.
Everyone listening laughed.
Aggie glanced at Max. He fit into her world like a snow cone would in hell. “Shall we find a seat?”
Max turned a devastating smile on her, causing a shiver to flit through her body until it reached the V of her legs. There, it hummed over her sex, turning her body into red-hot lust. She nodded and hurried toward the last booth in the corner. A booth as far away from Bill and his biker crew as possible.
“Was it my imagination or does the ugly one want to kick my ass?”
“Not your imagination.” She slid into the booth, thankful her legs no longer had to hold her. “Sally, we’ll take a pitcher of whatever’s on tap.”
“You don’t want a glass of wine?” Max took a seat next to her instead of across the table.
Not that she minded his closeness, but why? “I’m almost certain they don’t serve wine here.”
Sally brought the beer and two glasses. “All kidding aside, we’ve missed you.” She poured their beers. “Things are never boring when you’re on one of the tables.”
“Aw…thanks. I’ve missed coming around. Unfortunately, I’ve been busy adulting.” Out of habit, she did a full body shudder at the mention of adulting. Funny, but lately, adulting hadn’t been so hard.
“We’ll need two menus,” Max said like the starchy CEO he was.
Sally grimaced and went to wait on another table.
“What did she mean by things are never boring when you’re on a table?” Max asked. “You don’t get drunk and dance on them, do you?”
“Because you think that’s what poor girls do?”
He looked at her as if she’d slugged him. “Has anyone ever told you you have a hell of a chip on your shoulder?”
She shrugged. It’s not like he was wrong.
“I was thinking that’s what someone who’s as fun-loving as you might do,” he said.
“I’m sorry. I should stop assuming the worst of you.” And start trusting that someone different from her might actually like her.
He placed his mouth next to her ear. “Agreed.” His lips brushed her jawline. “I’m simply intrigued at the thought of you on a table. Naked.”
Her panties grew wet as her core pulsed with longing. “Who are you, and what did you do with boss man?”
“I have no idea, but I hope you like this guy, because I’m enjoying being him…for tonight.”
She turned in her seat and leaned her back against the wall. The action gave her a little breathing room, which helped her think clearer. “Did you ask me out tonight under false pretenses?”
“Remind me again under what pretense I got you here?” He shifted so that he faced her and stretched out an arm to rest atop the back of the bench seat.
“Work.”
He lowered his arm, and some of the easiness left his expression. What had she said wrong? She thought they had been joking.
“Right,” he said. “I’ve decided to shorten your hours at work.” He glanced at her through hooded lashes.
“I see.” The most realistic way to interpret that comment was he wanted to limit the amount of time he was forced to spend around her. The realization felt like a jab to the throat. “What hours did you have in mind?” Then again, she could be wrong. No reason to jump to conclusions. Conclusions that could ruin their evening.
“Grandmother mentioned you’re not a morning person, and since you finish every assignment I give you so quickly and you’re not willing to make my coffee, I see no reason not to change your hours so you don’t have to come in until ten.”
Sally brought plates heaped with barbeque sandwiches and seasoned fries to their table.
Aggie beamed up at her. “Thanks. These look divine.”
“Did we order this?” Max asked.
“If you come here for dinner,” Sally barked, “you’re ordering the special.”
…
Max waited until Sally left before saying to Aggie, “Is it my imagination, or has she taken an instant dislike to me?”
“She doesn’t trust rich guys.”
Max took a bite of his sandwich. He instantly knew why it was dubbed the best barbeque in town. And that was saying something in K.C., a town known for world-class barbeque. The cook should enter contests. “Do you trust rich guys?”
“I try not to. Want to shoot a game of pool when we’re done eating?” She dipped a fry into a puddle of sauce on her plate.
“I don’t know how to play.” He watched her lick her fingertips.
“I’ll teach you how.” She leaned back.
“Why do you try not to trust rich guys?”
She grabbed another fry and dipped it in the sauce. “Because they tend to not fall for girls like me.” He watched as the fry slowly disappeared into her mouth.
He swallowed and had a moment of pure envy over a french fry. “I’ll let you teach me, if you tell me what you mean by ‘girls like me.’”
She smirked. “You’ll let me teach you? You’d be damn lucky to have me as a teacher.”
He picked up his beer and took a sip. “You’re that good, huh?”
She slid another french fry into her mouth with the same sexy slowness and then slowly pulled it out.
He groaned.
Then she bit it in half with a savage chomp. She swallowed. “At pool and other things.”
“I’m intrigued.”
“You should be. And I mean girls who don’t fit into the world of the rich.” She picked up her mug and took a sip of her cold beer, but not before he saw a flash of hurt in her eyes.
Who had made her feel less than? Whoever it was, he wanted to kick their ass. “When I think of you, I don’t think of a girl who doesn’t fit into my world because of her roots. I think of one who doesn’t fit into my world because of her personality. You said yourself our temperaments don’t mesh.”
“Not for the long run. But that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t be damn good at the short run.”
He resisted an urge to say, Let’s get out of here and start the short run now. “I didn’t know you’d be up for a short run. Maybe when you’re no longer working for me, we can enjoy a fling.”
Her eyes widened. “You misunderstood, while yes we’d be good for the short run, our having one wouldn’t be in my best interest.”
“Why is that?” Other than both of their grandmothers would come unhinged if their grandchildren engaged in a casual fling with no commitment.
“Because as much as I like to run, I’m not willing to run with my heart. We all know short runs can turn into long runs, and if that happens, I want to be sure I’m running with someone who won’t be embarrassed down the road by the way I r
un.”
He cocked his head. He had the feeling that might be the most honest answer she’d ever given him. It begged for an honest response. “I love the way you run.”
She blinked. “Time to change the subject.”
“Okay,” he said, reluctantly. He’d much prefer they continue with the subject at hand. But a gentleman didn’t push a woman to talk about something that made them uncomfortable. “Finish your fries and teach me how to play this game of yours.”
Fifteen minutes later, he watched as Aggie chalked her stick and broke the balls.
“Damn, girl, you’re hard on them balls,” a guy said.
Max glanced over. The bikers now leaned with their backs against the bar and were settled in to watch them.
Aggie never gave them a look as she circled the table with her cue stick. “Looks like I’m solids.” She called her next shot and sank it. And the next, and the next, and the next. Then she missed an easy one.
“You missed on purpose, didn’t you?” Max took the stick from her.
She shrugged.
Stalling, he roamed around the table, eyed the balls from different angles. She’d made it look easy. Hopefully, it was. When he could stall no longer, he positioned himself closest to the white ball. About to shoot, some guy shouted, “You forgot to call your shot.”
The comment startled Max, and the end of his stick hit the fabric of the table.
Laughter rumbled out of those watching.
Max whirled and glowered at him. It was the same guy who’d been all territorial earlier. “Asshole.”
The guy’s smile vanished, and his hand gripped the neck of a beer bottle. “Aggie, you better teach your man some manners and how to shoot pool before he tears up our table.”
Aggie tugged on his arm. He glanced at her, and she motioned for him to lean toward her and then whispered into his ear, “Don’t let them ruin our night.”
He liked the way her breath slipped underneath his collar. He straightened. “I couldn’t agree with you more.” He ran a finger down Aggie’s jawline. “Want to get out of here?”
“Can’t leave a game unfinished.” She winked at him. “Follow my lead.” She stepped back. “Hot stuff, would you like some help?” She used a voice full of innuendo.
He knew instantly he was going to like what followed. “Honey, if by help, you mean pressing that sweet body of yours against mine, then by all means, please help.”
She stood behind him, pressed her body into his, and showed him how to position his fingers on the end of the stick. “Now, look down the stick and gently hit the white ball.”
“Aggie, teach me next,” the guy shouted. “I don’t remember how to play, either.”
She ignored him.
Max shot and hit the white ball into a striped ball, and it flew into the corner pocket. Not the ball he’d been aiming at, but thankfully, Aggie said nothing. He moved around the table. She followed. Once again, she pressed into his back and helped him with his stick.
“That fucker knows how to play. He’s getting a kick out of your sweet tits being pressed into his back,” a guy said.
Max glanced his way. It was the asshole again. “You can trash talk me all you want, but if you talk about, or to, my girl, you better do so with a mouthful of respect. Or you and I will have a problem.”
The asshole lurched at Max. “Sissy boy, you got what it takes to make me?”
Max straightened as adrenaline rushed him. “Asshole, the question is do you have the nuts to find out?”
Asshole approached their table, and the two men squared off.
“Winner gets to take Aggie home,” the guy said.
“Now, boys.” She stepped between them, holding her arms out straight and making them take several steps away from each other. “I’m not the girl who gets a thrill over enticing two men to fight. Bill, go back to your beer. I’m leaving with the guy I came with.”
Max narrowed his eyes. Was this asshole her Bill?
Bill grunted. “Hey, no foul. Don’t get mad. You know how it is. The guys and I don’t let just anyone in to drink our beer and date our women.”
“I’m nobody’s woman, and I sure as hell aren’t anyone’s reward for a pissing contest.” Aggie laid a hand on Max’s arm. “I’ve lost my desire to shoot pool. Shall we get out of here?”
Max threw his stick on the table. “Not before we finish our beer.” He’d be damned if he’d run from that idiot.
She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward their table. He took a seat across from her so he could see Bill. She eyeballed Max. Only him. “You okay?”
Moments crawled by before the tension left his shoulders enough he could talk. “Is that the Bill? The one you wrote about on your entrance test?”
“Yep.”
“The guy’s a jackass.” Max slammed his beer. “You can do better. Let’s get you home.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Thursday at five p.m., the office phone rang. Aggie wanted to ignore the call, but one more task wouldn’t kill her.
“Treadwell Properties.” She wiggled her toes under her desk. She’d ditched her pantyhose and heels the moment Max left for an afternoon meeting. He’d been due back by three but called and said something had come up. “How may I help you?”
“How did things go in the office today?” Max said on the phone.
Speak of the devil… “Hello to you, too, boss man. Things are just peachy here.”
“Did you do anything without first asking permission?”
“Funny you should ask. I actually set up an interview for a new receptionist. Ms. Grace called. She’s definitely decided working for you isn’t the right fit for her image and has graciously turned down your offer to let her be your receptionist. She said to tell you she’s sorry it took her so long to decide.”
He chuckled. “It only took her two and half weeks to make it official. I really thought she might hold out the whole eight weeks you’re working for me. You know…to make sure we spent plenty of alone time together.”
Did the fact she gave her decision indicated the grandmothers had given up on their matchmaking scheme? “Ms. Grace thought you might get upset when I relayed the news, and I was to tell you not to take it personally. Anyway, now that it’s official, I hope it’s okay for me to get the ball rolling on the filling of the vacancy. I didn’t figure you’d want to be involved in something so mundane as hiring a receptionist. Like I said, I’ve set up one interview.”
“About that. You sound great answering the phone. When my assistant comes back, perhaps you—”
“Don’t you dare ask me to be your receptionist.” She cleared her throat, hoping he hadn’t heard the note of hurt in her voice. “I have better things to do with my life.”
“Of course you do, but perhaps you should cancel the interview and we should leave it open just in case you change your mind.”
“Not necessary.”
He didn’t push. “Why do I get the feeling you’re mad at me? I thought you did a clearing to get rid of the negative energy between us.”
“Sorry. I’m feeling grumpy today.”
“Why?”
Good question. “Do you really want to know?” Maybe it was time she took a real risk in life. One that included her heart and not just her life.
“I do, but not right at this moment. I’m in a bit of a rush. I need you to do me a favor.”
She’d take that as a big fat no. She smiled so her voice would sound cheerful. “It’s your dime.”
“Go over to my desk and open the drawer on the right side. I have a stack of business cards there. Find the card from Jasper, Inc. I need their phone number.”
She put the call on hold, walked over to his desk, pulled open the drawer, and found a small stack of cards. A few were stuck between the pages of a calendar. She pulled out the
calendar and shook for other hidden ones. Then she thumbed through the cards until she found the one he wanted. Grabbing the phone, she then took the call off hold. “Found it.”
“Great. Text me the number.”
“Will do. Anything special going on tomorrow?”
“I have another meeting with David Long. It’s a critical one.”
“Here or his office?”
“His office, but I’ll drop by mine before the meeting.”
She grimaced. Mr. Long had a lot of…quirks. Which didn’t make him bad, but it did make him a challenge to impress. “I’ll ask Meemaw to send positive vibes out into the universe tonight for a successful outcome.”
“Okay. Tell her thanks in advance.” After a moment of dead air, Max said, “Aggie?”
“Still here. It’s my understanding that the rules of etiquette when talking to the boss man is that he has to hang up first. Were you testing me to see if I knew that? Surprise. I do.”
He laughed. “Never mind. Have a good night.”
She hung up and turned to close his desk drawer. Something on the calendar caught her eye. Her name. Written in every square of every workday. She pulled it out and gave it her full attention.
“What the hell?” From the day she’d started working for Max, until the day scheduled to be her last day, he’d written her name and then drawn a big red X through each day that had passed. Even today.
Why? Hurt bombarded her from every direction. She bit down on her bottom lip to draw her attention away from the ache and refocused it on her mouth. Did Max hate being around her so much he counted down the days until she left?
That would be the obvious don’t-kid-yourself conclusion. The other conclusion—the obvious kid-yourself-one—would be Max was counting down the days until he could kiss her because he wouldn’t be her boss anymore.
Her go-to, knee-jerk reaction would be to decide it was the first scenario and retaliate. But, as Meemaw liked to say, that would be cutting off her nose to spite her face. And truthfully, that wasn’t what she wanted to do.
What do I want? “To not screw things up by jumping to wrong conclusions.” In this situation, the adult thing to do would be to pretend she never saw it.