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.