by Lisa Wells
“That’s what happens when you talk about tonguing me.”
His fingers found her clit, and he rubbed, enjoying the feel of her hips bucking against him. “Next time we do this, my tongue is going inside your sweet pussy.”
“Why next time?” she asked, her hard breathing making her words almost unintelligible.
He didn’t answer but instead slid two fingers inside of her and continued to rub with his thumb.
When she begun to mewl incoherently, he bit her earlobe.
“Oh fuck. Max.” She clutched his shoulders. “I’m—”
He took her mouth and branded her with a kiss while he kept his hand in place, and she rode out the waves of an orgasm. Only when she loosened her grip on his shirt did he remove his hand and take a step back, allowing her skirt to fall into place. “I have to leave. Come over later tonight and bring an overnight bag. We’ll finish this.”
She pushed her hair out of her face, and her heavy-lidded stare melted the last remaining barrier protecting his heart. “Cancel your plans and take me home with you right now.”
He jammed his hands in his pockets. A man could lose himself forever in this woman. “I can’t.” Damn Ruby and her blackmail. She’d discovered he hadn’t taken Jodi to see The Lion King and now had switched from vague threats of revealing information about a guy from Grandmother’s past to a very real threat of exposing the hand he’d played in getting Ms. Hazel admitted into the club. And he couldn’t explain it to Aggie, because then she’d know Ms. Hazel didn’t get into Grandmother’s club without major strings being pulled.
Her eyes narrowed. “Do your plans include a woman?”
He nodded. He wasn’t going to lie. “It’s complicated, and I’m not at liberty to explain the complication to you. But I’ll cut it short and be home before it even gets dark outside.”
“And you think I’m the inappropriate type of girl you can ask to come over for a fuck after you have a date with someone society deems appropriate?”
“Damn it. That’s not it at all. Where did you get such a ridiculous notion that society finds you inappropriate?”
“Meemaw’s taught me a lot of things, but the most important thing is that actions speak louder than words. Your actions do not match your words.”
He sighed. “Aggie, would you do me the honor of going out with me tomorrow night? Give me a chance to prove you wrong?” He couldn’t just declare love. If he did, she’d be like Grant and think he’d fallen in love with sex and not her. All of her.
She smoothed her skirt with her hands. “Thanks for the orgasm, sorry I didn’t get to give you one in return, but it’s best if we just keep things strictly business until our contract ends.”
He stabbed his fingers through his hair. And that’s why his walls should have stayed up. To save him from how this felt. “That’s not what I want. My plans with—”
“It’s what I need. I suggest you spend the time getting your complications figured out.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Friday afternoon, one week after he gave her an orgasm in his office, Aggie spoke to Max on the phone.
“Do you have questions about the bid project?” Max asked. He’d won the bid on the defunct amusement park, and he’d given her a ton of tasks to complete.
“Not a single one,” she said. “My to-do list is complete.” The project had kept him out of the office all week. Either that or what happened between them last Friday afternoon at closing time did. “Did you call to have me mark a week’s worth of days off your I’m-almost-rid-of-Aggie calendar?” After today, there were only ten more working days to X out. That last X couldn’t come soon enough. Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
Silence greeted her question, followed by a muffled curse. “I didn’t know you knew about that calendar.”
“It’s hard to keep secrets from your assistant.”
“I admit it did start out as a way to mark down the days until I was rid of you, but now it’s my way of counting down the hours until you’re not my employee and I can be with you.”
She forced a laugh. A laugh meant to imply you don’t impress me much. “Isn’t that sweet. You want to send me off to New York with your lips the last ones I came into contact with while in Kansas City.” Like he wanted his moo to be her last moo the night they played striptease trivia. It must be a territorial thing.
“Or the lips that enticed you to stay a little longer.”
“A little longer, you say?” And yet again, not forever. “Why on earth would I stay when a grand adventure awaits?” Of course, he wanted her. He wanted to have sex again. But sexual desires weren’t enough. Sexual desire would wear off after a little longer.
He sighed. “You wouldn’t.”
“Did you call just to see if I was still in the office at four thirty?” She was kind of surprised she was still there. Then again, who was she kidding? She’d stuck around in the hopes he’d drop by the office before calling it a week.
“Damn it, stop trying to pick a fight.”
Was that what she was doing? Picking a fight to make it easier to leave when the time came? “How may I help you, boss man?”
He sighed. “I called to remind you not to forget to file our bid by eleven tomorrow. But not a minute before that.”
This wasn’t just any bid. It was the bid. The one he had so much riding on. “Why not after work today?” She’d planned on dropping it off on her way home then drink a bottle of wine and take a sleeping pill, all in the hopes of sleeping twelve hours. Between learning of Mom’s criminal record and Max’s continued dates with Tabitha, she’d been having nightmares. When she woke from the dreams, she had no one to talk to because Meemaw wasn’t home. One of the families she cleaned for had asked her to house-sit while they were on vacation.
“I don’t trust blind bids. Where there’s a will, there’s a way for the unscrupulous to sneak a glance at early bids and adjust theirs accordingly.”
“Really? I didn’t take the O’Reilly group as the type who allowed shenanigans.”
“They have an assistant collecting the bids. Money makes a bastard out of all of us at one time or another. Can I count on you?”
What a pompous thing to ask. “I don’t forget deadlines. I’m a professional. Have I let you down once since I’ve started working with you?”
“Call Mr. Smith and double check the location and time of trivia night.”
“Saturday night at eight at the Country Club Plaza. Trivia teams are to arrive an hour early. All the money raised will go to Safehome. We should, and by we I mean you,” she said, “donate to the cause.”
“Excellent idea. Write them a company check for five thousand dollars. Bring it with you.”
Once she arrived home, Aggie limited herself to only two glasses of wine before taking a sleeping pill and crashing. The combination would leave her groggy in the morning, but not too groggy to take care of the bid on time.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Saturday morning around ten, Aggie’s phone rang. Struggling out of the cobwebs of a nightmare, she answered. “Hello.”
“Is this Agnes?” The woman’s voice was harsh and yet quiet, as if she didn’t want anyone to hear her.
Aggie’s brain woke with a jolt, and she sat up. “It is?” Had something happened to Meemaw? Was this the police? God, had she been speeding again? “Who is this?”
No one responded. Glasses clinked in the background.
“Hello? Are you there?” Aggie glanced at her screen to see if she’d accidentally hung up on the person. She hadn’t. “Helloooooooooooo.” She glanced at the clock. Hell. It was a good thing her phone rang.
She had less than an hour to drop off the bid. She pulled on a pair of jeans while she waited for whoever was on the other line to answer. Ten more seconds and she would hang up.
“This i
s Darlene.”
Goose bumps exploded on her arms and her legs stopped working and she crumbled to the floor in an unceremonious heap. “Mom? Is this…you?”
“I wouldn’t say it was if it wasn’t. I’m going to be at The Cat and the Fiddle until five. If you’re not there by then…well, whatever.”
Happiness choked her airways as she used the side of the bed to pull herself to a standing position. Mom wants to meet me. “Is that in Kansas City?”
“Springfield.” Mom disconnected.
She ran to the bathroom, stripping out of her clothes as she did, showered quickly, and then picked out an outfit to meet Mom in. Not too dressy, but something special. Why hadn’t she bought a just-in-case outfit for this moment—she couldn’t show up in jeans and a T-shirt as if it were no big deal to meet Mom for the first time as an adult.
Halfway through putting on her makeup, it hit her. She didn’t have a car, and she had to drop off Max’s bid. And tonight was the charity event. “Shit.” Think. Breathe. You can figure this out.
She grabbed her phone and called Meemaw. “What time are you going to be home?” She crossed her fingers.
“Good morning to you, too. Trying to get a boyfriend out of the house before I show up?”
A laugh, sounding like a strangled alley cat, left Aggie’s throat. “I need you to do me a huge favor.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m supposed to drop a bid off today by eleven. Could you do that for me?” Every moment she spent doing something else right now cost her time with Mom.
“Why?”
“I can’t tell you right now, but I promise I will when I get back. The drop off is at Great Southern. Ten minutes from us. Can you do that?”
“Are pickles green?”
“You’re the best.” She hung up and called Bill. He liked adventure. “I need a huge favor,” she said the moment he answered.
“Aggie, this you?”
She relaxed. He sounded sober. “I need a ride to Springfield.”
“When?”
“Now.”
There was a pause. She could hear him peeing.
Guys could be so gross.
“You still live at the same address?”
“I do.”
“On my way.”
She did the math. If he got to her house by ten thirty, the way he drove, they’d be in Springfield by one fifteen p.m. They would need only another thirty minutes to find The Cat and the Fiddle.
She should be in Mom’s presence no later than one forty-five. She’d get to spend almost three hours with her. If Bill and she left Springfield, by four thirty, she’d be back in time for the charity event. Barely. Not as early as she was supposed to be, but she’d make it before the actual event started.
She went into the bathroom to finish getting ready. Making the trip on the back of a Harley meant wearing her favorite Wrangler jeans, her lucky bomber jacket, and boots. She put lotion on her hands and sprayed perfume in the air and then danced through it. She stuffed clothes to wear to the charity event in a backpack. She’d have Bill drop her at the hotel. She could change in the restroom.
Ready to go, she grabbed her phone.
Unfortunately, her lotioned-up hands fumbled the sucker. Her heart sank as it hit the counter before bouncing once and landing in the toilet.
“Son of a bitch.” She fished it out, ran with it to the kitchen, and placed it in a bowl with dry white rice. The honking of a horn startled her. Bill. She washed her hands, grabbed her jacket, ran out the door, and hopped on behind Bill. They could use his phone.
Turning the corner at the end of their street, Meemaw’s Mustang sat at the stoplight. Aggie waved. Damn it. She should have left a note asking her to cover for her at the trivia event if she didn’t get back in time.
She’d just have to make sure she got back. Maybe Mom would come with her.
Chapter Forty
As directed, Max arrived Saturday night at the fundraiser an hour early. No sighting of Aggie. Damn it. Did she miss the bus? He should have picked her up. He called. Straight to voicemail.
“Max, so glad to see you. Where’s our ringer?”
Max pivoted. Mr. Smith. “You know how women are. They never run exactly on time.”
“Our table is the first one.” He pointed toward a group of tables all with microphones. “I can’t wait to clean house with my competition. I’ve a few side wagers going.”
Max chuckled. “This should be fun.”
Thirty minutes later, Aggie still hadn’t shown. Max called Ms. Hazel.
“Hi, honey. Are you calling to see if I got the bid turned in on time?”
“Bid?” He tensed, waiting for the response although his gut already told him what the answer would be.
“Aggie asked me to do it for her.”
“I see.” His grip tightened on the phone. “Thank you. I’ll have to buy you dinner. I’m actually calling because I need to reach her. Do you know how late she’s running?”
“Late for what?”
“We’re on a trivia team for a charity auction.”
“Oh dear.”
Fuck. “What does that mean?”
“Earlier, I saw Aggie on the back of a Harley. She had a backpack on, like she does when she’s going on overnight trips.”
“Damn it.” This shouldn’t surprise him. She wasn’t responsible. She’d told him she wasn’t responsible. Why did he think for even one moment she’d actually stay responsible for her entire eight-week contract?
“I’m so sorry, Max. It’s not like her to not be where she’s supposed to be when she’s supposed to be there. Well, actually it is, but she’s been doing so well working for you. I thought she’d turned over a new leaf.”
“I guess some leaves just don’t stay turned.”
“This explains why she sounded strange on the phone,” Meemaw said. “She was pulling an Aggie and didn’t want me to know.”
“An Aggie?”
“Anytime there’s a new boyfriend in her life, she gets all fidgety and flighty.”
Max cursed.
What in the hell had he been thinking to hope he could have a future with Aggie when her contract ended? She was irresponsible at best, unreliable at worst.
“Tell you what,” Ms. Hazel said. “I’m free tonight. Why don’t I fill in for her? I taught her everything she knows.”
“I would be forever grateful.” He gave her the address and hung up. A voice cleared behind him.
“Please tell me Aggie’s here.” Mr. Smith had a vein pulsing in his forehead.
Max sighed. This wasn’t going to go over well. “I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans. She can’t attend, but her grandmother will fill in. Trust me, she will do just as well, if not better.”
Mr. Smith’s face turned red.
“I’m so sorry. I know it looks bad—”
“It does indeed look bad. I want to do business with a company who stands behind their word. I don’t have time to worry if I can trust those I hire to do a job.”
Max couldn’t argue. Monday, he’d fire Aggie, and this time, there’d be no unfiring. She’d done irreparable damage to his business reputation this evening. And for what? A ride on the back of a fucking Harley.
Chapter Forty-One
Aggie hopped off the back of Bill’s bike and stared at a bar sitting in the middle of a shopping center. “The Cat and the Fiddle.”
The vehicles sitting outside weren’t junkers, weren’t Harleys, weren’t Bentleys. A place for average Joes looking for a beer without a fight.
Her stomach churned as if it had decided to make a vat of butter.
“I’ll be back by two thirty.” Bill revved his bike.
She gave him a thumbs-up and turned to stare at the door leading to Mom. The thought spun the th
ick butter up her throat, causing her to gag. She bent over until the sensation passed. Mom.
Standing upright, she squared her shoulders and pulled open the heavy wooden door. The lights were dim, trapping her in darkness until her eyes could adjust. Few glanced her way. Those who did were indifferent.
She bit her lip to keep it from trembling the way her knees were. No bouncer available to point out Darlene. She made her way to the bar at a gait meant to show no fear.
“What can I get you?” the woman tending asked. She looked hard. Twelve-kids-and-counting hard.
“Bitch, where’s my beer? I asked for it ten minutes ago.” This came from a customer whose head and neck were covered in tattoos.
Aggie shivered. She’d completely misdiagnosed the type of bar this place was. No average Joes in sight. Lots of scary Joes.
She’d been in her share of forbidding bars. But never alone. She’d always been with hot male muscle packing heat.
“Shut up, George. You’ll get it when you damn well get it,” the woman barked. She snapped her attention back on Aggie. “I ain’t got all day.”
“I’ll take what’s on draft.” Aggie glanced around for a woman sitting alone. She found none. Everyone had someone. As they should in a place like this. Why did Mom choose here? Couldn’t they have met at a mellow lunch joint?
“A buck fifty.”
Cheap drinks. Would that be the only rainbow she found tonight or the beginning of multiple rainbows? She paid and enjoyed a fortifying sip. Had Mom changed her mind? Decided not to come? Or was she here with others? Were they watching her right now and laughing, because she didn’t know which was Mom?
The bartender served three more beers. A man spilled his, and it flowed downhill toward hers.
“Damn it.” The bartender grabbed a rag and mopped up the mess. She paused with her rag in front of Aggie.