Chapter Thirty-Three
Fog clouded Aggie’s brain like someone had stuffed it into the center of a cotton-filled pillow. Tonight met every fantasy expectation she’d ever had about having sex with a man. And not just any man. A man she could spend her future with. Yes, call her a sap, but she’d spent more than one minute over the years dreaming about that man.
You know…that unrealistic list of everything a man would say and do before you gave them your heart. The very list you created to protect yourself from ever falling in love, because no one, absolutely no one, could ever live up to the expectations on that list.
The sound of mooing had her scrambling off the bed and into the living room to recover her phone, happy for the reprieve from thoughts of that man, and read the text. It was from the P.I.
She fumbled the phone but caught it before it hit the floor. Mom’s a felon. I’m the daughter of a felon. Not just a bastard child, but the bastard of a felon.
“Everything okay?” Max wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her into him so her bottom nestled nicely into his magical hips.
She quickly lowered her phone so he couldn’t read the screen. Heat, the crazy overwhelming, non-sexy kind, flanked her on all sides. She stepped out of his arms. “Fine. Fine. Everything’s fine. I’m fine.” Where was an air conditioner vent when she needed one?
“You don’t sound fine.”
She twisted and glanced at him. “My ride will be here in a few minutes. I need to get dressed.”
The joking left his gaze. “Stay.”
She wanted to smile and tell him to stop being so perfect, but she couldn’t. Her fear of eventual rejection still sitting front and center in her brain right next to the bold black word “felon.” “Don’t be silly. Meemaw knows an Uber took me to the dinner. She’ll expect one to bring me home. Anything less and she’ll fantasize we’ve fallen in love.”
He pulled her into his arms and nuzzled a kiss into her neck. “And we didn’t…right?”
Now, his voice had all kinds of weird nuances that, under different circumstances, she would have loved to analyze. Or…her ears were still stuck in a cotton cloud and the nuances didn’t exist. “Neither of us do love. That’s why tonight was doable. We can still work together, and it’s not a big deal. Besides, remember, I’m an Enthusiast and you’re a Reformer. Keep me around long enough, and I will cause your world to implode.”
“Not if I don’t give you means to light the dynamite.”
The minute he let her into his life, he’d given her the match to do the job. But she wasn’t going to stand here and argue her point. “At the very least, you’d eventually find me an embarrassment to be around.”
“I don’t give a fuck that you came from poverty.”
He said that now, but in the cold light of day, everything always looked different. “Not because of my economic status, but because I’m an Enthusiast and you’re a Reformer. Read up on them. You’ll see in black and white where it clearly says Reformers eventually find it embarrassing to be around Enthusiasts.” Especially when they discovered their Enthusiast came from felon blood.
“Not if the Reformer learns to chill and enjoy the idiosyncrasies of the Enthusiast.”
Her phone mooed.
“Who keeps texting you?”
“Relax. It’s just my ride.” She stepped out of his arms, grabbed her dress, and slipped it on. Max handed her shoes to her, and she wiggled her feet into them. “Be a doll and bring the rest of my items to work on Monday.”
“Why not tomorrow?”
“I’m taking tomorrow off. Compensation for dumpster diving for my boss.” She needed time to wrap her head around this latest news of Mom. Before he could respond, she hurried out the door and into an open elevator.
It was best if their relationship never moved past a one-night stand. She’d use the long weekend to get her shit together, and then on Monday she’d play it calm, cool, and uninterested. Better to be the pusher than the one pushed.
Her phone mooed. She glanced at the screen.
…
Max fixed himself a scotch on the rocks and strode onto his balcony. The sky sparkled as if it were hosting a grand ball for all of heaven’s angels. Hell, he was in such a great mood, if he saw a shooting star, he’d for sure act like a kid and wish upon it.
He sat down on a chaise lounge and Googled love between an Enthusiast and a Reformer on his phone.
Tonight gave him an inkling of how sweet it would be to give his heart to another. Spending time with Aggie made him question his five-year plan. Would having a woman in his life really upset his professional goals to grow his business? It’s not like loving her would prevent him from hustling business.
Or would it?
He chose the first article listed that also included the word Enneagram and read all about the potential trouble spots between the two.
…Enthusiasts deeply resist feeling trapped by Reformers.
Was that why she’d been through so many jobs? Fallen in and out of love so many times? If so, he should give her space. Treat her like a spooked animal. When animals were spooked, they ran. He didn’t want her to bolt.
When he saw her on Monday, he’d act like nothing happened between them. He’d let her make the next move, wait for her to nudge him, before he initiated an I-might-be-falling-for-you conversation.