by Lisa Wells
Score one for Aggie. “Does that mean you’re not interested in hearing an explanation of how I came to hook up with Tabitha Friday night?” Fuck. That came out sounding wrong.
Her could-care-less expression wavered. “I would assume it was for the same reason I hooked up with Bill? If I’m wrong, then please do explain.”
The admission suckered punched him, and he turned toward his office door to keep her from seeing the shock on his face. “Let’s pick this conversation back up when your contract is over.”
“Yes. Let’s.”
He casually stepped into his office, quietly shut the door, and then stomped to where the broken pencil laid and chucked it at the trash can. When had his life gotten so fucking complicated?
…
Aggie stared at the closed door. The asshole had actually gone out on a date one night after they had sex. Why in the hell had she let any inch of her brain hope she was wrong about his character? Let herself believe he wasn’t the sort to judge her based on her past? That he found her special as-is and didn’t give a damn about roots she had no control over?
Johanssons weren’t lovable. They sucked at love. They were the loveable losers of love.
No more schooling necessary. Lesson branded on this gal’s brain.
She walked to the window and glanced out. A robin sat on the sill. Was it a sign from the Universe she should let her dreams take flight, move to NYC? The bird turned its little body around so that they were staring at one another. Its little head cocked to one side as if saying, Do you want to talk about it?
Aggie nodded. She did want to talk about it. “It’s like this: a guy who takes another woman out twenty-four hours after having sex with you is serious when he says he doesn’t do love. A guy is a guy is a guy. They all think with their dick. Don’t you agree?”
The bird flew away.
Aggie sighed. If only she could fly as easily.
At least she didn’t embarrass herself and tell him how gooey on the inside he’d turned her. It would be a cold sensation on the tongue of a guy in the midst of a ghost pepper–eating contest before she told him she hadn’t really gone out with Bill. This weekend. This morning. Or this afternoon.
One month left on their contract. She could do this.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Wednesday evening at four twenty p.m., Aggie’s cell rang. She didn’t have to glance at the caller I.D. to know who it was. Max. The guy she couldn’t stop thinking about but wanted to stop thinking about. Thank God he hadn’t been in the office much this week. Or at least part of her thanked God for that. Another part of her missed Max’s ugly mug and average conversation skills.
“I’m on my way,” she said instead of hello. She glanced out the bus’s dirty window and watched the street signs tic by one…block…at…a…time. It’s funny how when you’re running late, time moved so much faster than moving vehicles.
“What’s taking you so long?” Max asked in his signature pompous tone.
She rolled her eyes. “If you must know, I missed the bus.” Tonight, they were fixing dinner for their grandmothers.
“Why didn’t you drive?”
“My car still won’t start.”
“Why haven’t you had Betsy fixed? You can afford it, can’t you?”
The fact he remembered her car’s name softened her heart, which pissed her off. “What’s with the fifty freaking questions?”
“If you’d taken an Uber, you could have been here on time.”
“I happen to prefer public transport.” She didn’t plan on fixing Betsy. This freed her to save up enough to pay Meemaw’s rent and utilities two months ahead. No way would she leave for New York and cause her to have to work extra shifts to cover the expenses Aggie normally covered.
“I happen to prefer people who are dependable.”
“I’ll tell you what, you take a bus to work tomorrow morning, and if you get there on time, then you can be pissed at me. Otherwise, stop acting like a privileged asshole.”
There was a short pause. “I deserve that. Do you have the ingredients for the cookies?”
She shifted her grocery sack off the seat next to her so a woman just getting on the bus could sit down. Her contribution to tonight’s dinner—no-bake cookies. “Just because I’m late doesn’t mean I’m not responsible.”
“That’s exactly what it means.”
“Do you have the steaks lying out? They need to come to room temperature before you cook them.”
“Is that some piece of trivia Ms. Hazel stuck in your brain when you were a child?”
The mention of trivia tripped her thoughts down paths better left untripped. “I like my steaks medium. Meemaw likes hers medium rare. If you get hers too done, she’ll forever think less of you.”
“I know how to grill steaks.”
“Trying to be helpful. By the way, I got a Hallmark card for us to give them tonight, wishing them luck at the Bridge tournament. That is, if you want to sign the card with me.” She could have bought a cheaper one, but…well…the girl was still trying to impress the boy. If only in a small way.
He didn’t reply immediately. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”
“Just doing my job. A good assistant knows when the boss needs to give gifts and cards. By the way, do I need to pick up a trinket for Tabitha? Have you enjoyed third-date sex yet?”
“I would never ask you to buy trinkets for one of my women.”
Just hearing him say my women made her want to gag. “This coming from a man who asked me to buy his toilet paper.”
…
Max glanced at his watch. That had to have been the quickest dinner party ever. Both of the grandmothers were on their best behavior, and they left as soon as the meal ended. They said they needed their beauty rest for the tournament. Which left him with Aggie. A woman who’d been perfectly charming each time he’d called the office over the last two days and perfectly charming during dinner tonight, but that didn’t stop him from feeling the iciness coming off her every time she had to respond to something he had said.
He walked back into the kitchen and found her loading the dishwasher. “I told you to leave them.”
Instead of arguing or calling him privileged, she shrugged. “Fine, you load them while I drink. My bus doesn’t come for an hour.”
“It’s dangerous taking a bus home after dark. I’ll take you.”
She picked up the wine bottle and poured herself another glass. “Not going straight home.”
Jealousy punched him in the throat. Instead of acting on it, he busied himself putting the dishes in the dishwasher. He’d missed her energy yesterday while he’d been presenting at a conference. Sure, he could have stopped by the office during the lunch break, but he wanted to give her some space to work through what had her so cranky. Obviously, that hadn’t been enough time. He pushed the dish rack in so he could close the door, and it went about three inches and stopped. Pulling it back out, he glanced to see what the problem was.
“You need to put the meat fork at an angle. It’s hitting the twirly thing. That’s why it won’t shut.”
“Thanks.” He adjusted the meat fork and put a pod in the detergent spot.
“You’re not going to run it now, are you?”
“What’s wrong with now?”
She laid her phone down. “It’s not full. You’re wasting water. Or don’t you care about the environment?” She spoke as one would when scolding a child.
“Got it.” Taking a breath, he eased to the table and sat down next to her. “If we’re going to fight, clue me in on why.”
Her lips twisted. “I couldn’t begin to explain.”
“Then you’re forcing me to draw my own conclusion. My conclusion is that you’re after some make-up sex.”
She picked up a cookie. “You are an egotistical ass. Of
course I don’t want make-up sex. You’re seeing another woman.” She popped the whole cookie in her mouth.
“As usual, you’re wrong.”
She swallowed. “There’s nothing usual about my being wrong. And I’m not this time. You went out with Tabitha.”
“I take it by your attitude my going out with Tabitha has made you jealous, and you don’t like the taste of that emotion.” If he could get her mad enough, maybe they’d get past the wall between them.
She laughed. A fuck-you laugh. “You and I were a casual hookup. Now, we’re boss and employee again. I can’t populate one reason why I should be jealous of Tabitha.” She picked up her phone and tapped an icon.
“Put your phone away. We’re talking.” Damn it. This was not going the way he wanted it to go. He’d hoped getting her alone and away from the office would give them time to clear the air.
“Earth to Max. Work hours are over. You’re not my boss right now. You can’t tell me to put my phone away.”
“Then tell me who you’re texting?”
“I’m ordering an Uber. You know, since you don’t want me to take a bus after dark.”
He slammed his fist on the table, and she jerked back, causing her wine to spill. He froze. God. He’d become his father. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to leave.” He grabbed the washcloth and cleaned the spill.
She picked up her wineglass, downed the rest of it, and stood. “I have no desire to continue to be your casual fuck-pal. Once was fun. Anything more than that will just muddy the waters between us.”
He paused mid-wipe. “I don’t consider you a casual fuck. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you since Thursday night.”
She turned her foot toward the door. “And how about Tabitha? Did you consider her a casual fuck?”
He left the dishrag where it was and walked to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “We didn’t. I didn’t. No.”
A tight smile lifted her lips. “That explains your grumpiness. Don’t give up. I’ve been told well-bred females are a bit trickier to bed.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond to that statement, so he ignored it. “Please stay, and we can talk about Thursday night.”
The spark in her eyes went dim, and she shook her head. “I’ve recently discovered some things are best left in your past.”
“Like what?”
She opened her mouth and then shut it.
“What?”
“My ride’s here.” She grabbed her purse where it hung on the coatrack and walked to the door. “See you later, boss,” were her parting words.
“Fuck.” For now, he had no choice but to let her leave. She’d made it abundantly clear over and over again they were officially back to employer and employee status. But when their contract ended, all bets were off. No way in hell would he watch her get on a plane to New York without telling her how he felt.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Friday afternoon, Aggie sat at her desk and listened to Max as he carried on a phone conversation. Now and then, her brain went from listening to chastising herself for not having make-up sex with him Wednesday night when she had the chance then praising herself for having the backbone to say not interested.
If she tried to have a casual relationship with him, her heart wouldn’t stay out of the equation. Hell, it had done everything but bare its ass to the world after only one romantic night with him. His heart, on the other hand, would stay clothed and uninvolved. Any guy who could have sex with a woman one night and then take another out the next had a well-behaved heart. A heart that knew no meant no. A heart that never bucked the rules set out for it to obey. A heart, no doubt, holding out for a society lady.
“I don’t care what it costs. I want the land.” Max leaned back in his chair, his feet up on his desk and his tie hanging loose around his neck. Even on Fridays, the guy came to work dressed to impress. “I agree. It’s two hundred thirty-five acres of awesome potential.”
She’d shown up to work on Thursday worried about his reaction to her walking out on him Wednesday night. There hadn’t been any need to worry. From the moment she walked through the door three minutes late, he had acted like nothing went down between them. That they were back to being boss and employee with an easygoing relationship that allowed smiles and laughter. She’d stepped up to the plate and played along.
He chuckled. “Okay. You’ve got me there. I do care how much it costs.”
Max caught her staring and threw her a wink.
Her stomach did a flip-flop. Okay, the occasional wink was new. This was the third time in two days he’d winked at her. The wink annoyed her. Because she liked it, and it made her have thoughts like: what would life be like if she could change her destiny? If a Johansson could capture the heart of an upper-crust winker and not only his lust?
She shook the pity party off. She didn’t need a man to be happy. Her happiness was all on her. It wasn’t anyone else’s responsibility to make it happen.
“Hopefully, it won’t go over my top number. If it does, call me.” Max clicked an ink pen open and closed as he talked.
Invitations to this particular auction went out this morning. The owners would hold the auction this afternoon. The whole thing cloak and dagger, hush-hush.
The landowners didn’t want to deal with the public sentimental outcry over their decision to sell the amusement park.
He ended the call and swiveled his chair around to face the windows.
After about ten minutes of silence, she asked him, “Want to brainstorm ideas of what you could do with the theme park should you win the bid?” Her brain had been buzzing with ideas ever since learning of the auction.
He glanced at his watch. “Sure. I’ve got a few minutes.”
A few minutes? Did he have plans with Tabitha? It was a Friday night. She pushed the thought away as she slipped on her heels, picked up her ink pen and a pad of paper, and walked to the conference table.
He pulled up an image of a map of the theme park and projected it onto a large screen. “My initial idea is to turn these quirky buildings into offices for start-up businesses,” he said. “Whoever buys the renovated property could offer five-year leases. The rent would be cheap, but in return, the owner would get a percentage of the tenant’s gross income starting year six and lasting until year ten.”
“You could rent to clothing designers, specialty boutiques,” she offered. “There could be a gourmet coffee shop. A beer and wine shop. And beauticians building their clientele could open a small one-chair salon. Oh, and you could offer food trucks a permanent home on the parking lot.” If she wasn’t leaving town, she might even want to rent a building and start her own business.
He sat back, crossed his arms over his chest. “What other ideas do you have for the property?”
“You could turn all the buildings into a series of little houses that a hotel would buy and rent to travelers.” She liked that idea. If advertised correctly, it would become a destination hotel.
“You’re a natural visionary. It’s a shame you turned down my offer to stay on as my assistant.”
“Do you want to work late and come up with more ideas?” she asked.
“Can’t. I have plans.”
“With Tabitha?” The words skidded out of her opened mouth.
“Does the fact you’re asking about my dating life mean you’ve reconsidered your position on us?” He’d asked the question nonchalantly, but it felt like being examined by a hot-shot defense attorney.
“Us?” She forced herself to laugh. “You didn’t offer an us. Just more sex.” Why had she said that? It sounded like she wanted an us. Which gave him the perfect opening to say there’d never be an us.
He stood and moved to her side and leaned a hip against the table. “Considering you plan to move to Brooklyn, I was under the impression you don’t want an us, either? Am I
wrong?”
Either. So he admits it. He doesn’t want an us. “No, you’re not wrong. I have big plans for Meemaw.”
He ran a finger up her arm. “That’s what I thought. Aggie, my decency is what kept me from offering you an us. Just say the word, and I’ll happily become indecent and offer you an us.”
She forced herself to think. He had a date tonight, and here he stood flirting with her. And he had said “either.” “How long does an us usually last with you and a woman?”
His hand cupped the back of her neck. “With you, I’m thinking it might be a very long time.”
That wasn’t forever, and that wasn’t a declaration of love. That was just a rich man saying, I want to fuck you until I get tired of you. “I’m not prepared to give you an answer. I need to think about it. I haven’t even given the topic of us any consideration.”
With his free hand, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her up so that they stood toe to toe. “Do you have some salve to go with that scathing burn?” The words were humorous, but it wasn’t humor she saw in his eyes. It was lust.
“I’m not a nurse.”
“And I’m not a saint.” He yanked her into him. “You have exactly one second to tell me not to kiss you.” His thumb meandered over her jaw and up to scrape across her bottom lip.
“What does us mean to you?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never offered an us. Right now, what I know is that I can’t look at you without wanting to tear off your clothes. To cruise my hands over your lush curves. To kneel between your thighs and stroke you with my tongue until you wake up the dead crying my name over and over. And then I want to fuck you.”
Again. Not a declaration of love. She rolled her eyes, and the movement caused all of her intelligence to evaporate. “Kiss me already. We’ll figure out the details later.”
…
Max didn’t wait for a second invitation.
He took her mouth in a kiss of ownership—hell, he wanted to own every part of her. A kiss that said the words he couldn’t yet wrap his brain around—I’m falling in love with you, Aggie the Horrible. His good intentions of keeping it just a kiss evaporated. He lowered his hand to her skirt and tugged it up until it was bunched between them. He slipped his hand inside her panties and palmed her. “You’re so fucking wet.”