Chapter Fourteen

Tuesday flew by mostly because Max had her on the phone gathering information for the bid he was putting together while he worked on the finer details of the project. Over lunch at their desks, they discussed their plan to dissuade the grandmothers of their romantic notions where their grandchildren were concerned.

And now, it was already Wednesday night. Learn-to-play-Bridge night. Aggie sat across the square kitchen table from Max in Ms. Grace’s lovely kitchen, an area done in white and light blues. On her right sat Meemaw and on her left, Ms. Grace. They were preparing to play their third hand, round, whatever you called it in Bridge.

Aggie had found herself smiling and laughing a lot. Even though she and Max were having their asses handed to them by a couple of senior citizens. Speaking of asses, his had caught her attention when he arrived wearing a pair of black slacks molding his well-built body in all the right spots. Sweet baby Jesus, the guy must work out.

“I say we take a short break.” Max pushed back from the table and speared Aggie with a frown.

Her pulse did a funny jig. He wasn’t mad at her. It was part of their plan to dissuade the grandmothers from their plot to match their two grandchildren.

So far, neither grandmother appeared to have picked up on their blatant attempts to demonstrate their bare-minimum liking of one another. Attempts Aggie found herself having to work at because, for some reason, tonight, she had found herself wondering what the exact odds were of an Enthusiast and a Reformer happily coexisting on a long-term basis. Giving herself a mental slap, she pinched the musing off at its skinny neck, which left her returning a real frown right back at him.

Even if the likelihood was 99 percent, and they weren’t, it didn’t matter. She and Max had much larger factors dooming them. Money, birth circumstances, difference of opinion on which of them should make the coffee at the office.

“Aggie and I need to revisit our strategy.” Max’s tongue speaking her name in his trademark grumpy voice made her ponder what it would sound like coming off his tongue under different emotions. Lust. Satisfaction. Love. Nope, not love. Her brain did not go there. Only it did. Fuck. It was one thing to secretly wonder about a sordid affair with the guy, a totally different to harbor other ridiculous wonders.

“Honey, I think that sounds like a fine idea.” Ms. Grace’s eyes twinkled like faery lights in a Mason jar. “Why don’t you and Aggie step out on the balcony and get some fresh air?”

Meemaw nodded her approval. “I’m sure you two could use some alone time. And there’s a lovely full moon tonight.”

“Take all the time you need,” added Ms. Grace.

“Alone time with my boss,” Aggie said stiffly, “is the last thing I need.” The words came out sounding true. And come to think of it, that was probably because they were. She absolutely didn’t need to spend alone time with this guy.

“Aggie LaBelle Johansson,” Meemaw snapped in a tone more admonishing than a nun with an unruly school child.

She jumped, and her cheeks took on heat. The last time Meemaw used that tone with her, they were sitting in Principal Pomperein’s office, and he was explaining why Aggie wouldn’t be allowed to go on the eighth grade field trip to Washington, D.C.

Aggie had told her classmates she got to go, even though she knew Meemaw couldn’t afford to send her, and then purposely failed two classes so she wouldn’t be eligible. Little did she know, when she failed two classes, a parent-meeting ensued.

She hadn’t even told Meemaw about the trip, because Meemaw would do without lunch and work twenty-hour days to try and raise the money.

Failing two classes in order to become ineligible, and keeping Meemaw in the dark, was a hell of a lot better than the alternative—admitting to her classmates she couldn’t afford to go. Besides, it wasn’t like she would have learned anything on the trip Meemaw hadn’t already taught her and shown her via virtual tours of Washington, D.C.

Now, she took a breath and exhaled. “I’m not trying to be mean. I simply know what he’ll say.” She’d tried to spare Meemaw hurt on that occasion by withholding information from her. That hadn’t worked. Hopefully, this subterfuge would. She didn’t like lying to Meemaw, but if it saved her feelings in the long run, it was worth it.

The kindest thing she could do was stop Meemaw’s fantasy of Max and her standing together in a little white chapel in front of a preacher. “It’s what he always says. I’m the problem. I’m doing it wrong.” She did quote marks around the word it. She glanced directly at Max as she made the dig.

He narrowed his eyes.

Just today, he’d informed her that her skirts were the wrong length for an office setting. “I could apply makeup, and he’d say I did it wrong and would tell me how to do it right. If he does that during sex, no wonder he’s single.”

“Agnes Johansson, apologize this moment.”

Aggie kicked Max under the table. Why hadn’t he jumped in and carried his weight in the playing of their hate game? She didn’t enjoy being the only one having their full name used.

Max cleared his throat. “Perhaps if you’d take three seconds and listen to directions once in a while, you wouldn’t always be wrong. Hiring you certainly counts as a lapse in judgment.”

Did he wish he hadn’t hired her?

“Maxwell David Treadwell,” Ms. Grace said, a hand over her heart. “Where are your manners?”

“Grandmother—”

“You two are getting your knickers in an unnecessary crumple.” Meemaw gave Aggie a look of besiegement, as if to say, Please don’t embarrass me in front of my new friend. “Don’t take your frustration with losing at cards out on each other.”

Aggie stood. “I’m going out on the balcony to breathe some fresh air.” Disappointing Meemaw caused a twinge in her heart, but it was for the best. “Alone.”

“Not alone.” Max stood. “This argument isn’t over. I’m coming, too.”

…

Max studied Aggie’s expression. “If you have a lot of hearts, look at me like you’d look at someone you’re in love with.” He waited for her to show him that look.

Her right nostril lifted. “What?”

He sighed. “Remember, it’s our signal for hearts. I’ll look at you like I’m in love with you if I have a lot of hearts.”

“Let me see your I-love-Aggie look.”

Max cleared his throat and stared into her eyes, hoping he was giving her his best I-love-Aggie look.

She glanced off to the side. “I’m pretty sure that’s your I-want-to-fuck-you look. Not love you. Who exactly were you really thinking of just now?”

He’d been thinking of her. Max shifted his weight. “Show me your I’m-in-love expression.”

“With you or with anyone?”

Anyone. “Me.”

She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, looked him straight in the eye, and contorted her face into something that looked quite painful.

“What in the hell was that?” he asked. “Your I-love-Max look reminds me of a constipated monkey.”

She raised her hand and scratched her cheek with her middle finger.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re doomed. We’ll never win a single hand against these women.”

“Not true. I now know what your I-love-you face looks like, and you know mine. They may not be pretty, but they’ll work.”

True. He lowered his hand to his side. “If I haven’t told you, thanks for agreeing to learn how to play Bridge just to help Grandmother win a tournament at her club. That club is important to her.” Too bad Ms. Hazel and Aggie would never be on their membership list. They’d be a great addition to the stuffy club. Unfortunately, the Johanssons of Kansas City didn’t have the finances to inspire the board to overlook their lack of pedigree. A damn shame.

The door behind them opened. They shuffled away from each other and turned.

“Young’uns, are we playing cards or what?” Ms. Hazel asked from the doorway.

“Give us another minute,” Aggie said.

His gaze shifted back to her. Damn, her body could hypnotize a man. And when you paired it with those eyes…

She laid a slim hand on his arm. “You’re welcome, and thank you for giving up on trying to talk Ms. Grace out of being friends with Meemaw.”

“They’re good for each other. Now, let’s get back to what it will take to win a hand against those two.”

Ten minutes and several attempts at signal-expressions later, they went inside.

Grandmother and Ms. Hazel scrutinized them.

“It’s about blessed time,” Ms. Hazel said. “Did you get your cheat-signals figured out?”

“Meemaw, were you spying? Do you know our signals?”

Max groaned. “They were speculating. And now you’ve confirmed their unprovoked suspicions.”

Aggie blushed. “Oh.”

Ms. Hazel guffawed while Grandmother laughed softly.

“Maxi, honey, you wouldn’t be my grandson if you didn’t teach your partner how to cheat.”

“True.”

“I hope, for your sake, you were smart enough not to recycle the signals we used against our opponents.”

Max stared blandly at Grandmother. The woman reveled in discovering her opponent’s signals. “With Aggie, I had to keep things much simpler.”

Aggie punched him in the shoulder. “Whatever.”

The two grandmothers, who were sitting at the table, sipping whiskey from fine china teacups with their pinkies out, grinned with pride at their grandchildren. They reminded Max of two happy ducks floating in a pond full of the food pellets sold to tourists. Damn. Aggie’s and his plot hadn’t worked even a little.

“Why don’t we add a little wager to our next hand?” Ms. Hazel said.

“What kind of wager?” Aggie asked, taking a seat.

Ms. Hazel whispered something to Grandmother, who nodded and then whispered something back. This went on for several seconds. When the whispering ceased, they glanced at their grandchildren.

“The winner of the next round has to fix dinner for the losing team,” Grandmother said.

“Don’t you have that backward?” Aggie asked. “Shouldn’t the loser have to do the cooking?”

“Normally, yes,” Ms. Grace said. “But Max can’t cook, and Hazel said it’s not your strong suit, so since we will win, it’s best if we keep the bet the way it is.”

Max and Aggie studied their opponents and then nodded at each other. “We’ll take you up on your bet. But the next bet is ours to make.”

Once again, the two ladies grinned in unison.

Damn. Normally, Max realized what Grandmother was up to the moment she got up to it, but not lately.

“Aggie,” Ms. Hazel said, “be a peach and deal the cards.”