Chapter Four

Aggie jumped in her car, cranked up the air, and called Meemaw. Her insides hummed with giddy satisfaction and nerves and dismay. Mr. Dick-in-the-Mud had actually offered her a job after everything she did to stop him. Her clownish makeup, her inappropriate attire, and her off-the-wall comments would have given Meemaw the shakes.

In what world did that happen? Not hers. Only it did. And now that she’d had a few minutes to let it sink in, she wasn’t devastated. How could she be when she now had the start to a retirement fund? Of course, the money wouldn’t go into the fund until she’d successfully completed her two months with him. But the contract should make sure that happened.

“I got the job,” she said when Meemaw answered. Her words came out loud like a drunk at a funeral.

“Bless your heart, of course you did.” Meemaw had the prettiest Southern drawl when it suited her needs. The woman was not from the South. And she always misused the term bless your heart. “I told you not to fret. Tell me all about what he’s like in person, and don’t leave any detail out.”

Aggie took a long, calming breath. “You mean tell you about the job description.”

Meemaw knew better than most that men who were born with a silver spoon clutched in their privileged hand mostly believed themselves to be out of league from girls who lived on the wrong side of the tracks. Aggie knew those men were wrong. It was she who was out of their league. Or at least, that’s what she told herself during her rare moments of self-affirmation practice.

Only problem was Meemaw, thanks to Max’s grandmother, believed the world had changed since her own across-the-tracks love affair that ended with a baby and no husband. Ms. Grace assured her the attitudes of today’s young and rich had evolved past Meemaw’s ridiculous notion. Especially where Max was concerned.

“Sure, you can tell me about the job, too,” Meemaw cackled. The laugh she always belted out when filled with joy. Which was very seldom, so when it happened, it made Aggie happy. “But tell me first, is he as handsome in person as he is in the photos I’ve seen?”

“He’s not ugly, but he is pompous. And more rigid than a dead man’s hard-on.” To be fair, that part wasn’t quite true. He had smothered a laugh over her blow job comment. Which had been a pleasant surprise. But Meemaw didn’t need to know about that. “And he comes to work smelling like an expensive ad for a night out.”

“What in tarnation is wrong with a good-smelling man?” Tarnation was one of Meemaw’s favorite cuss words when flabbergasted. Otherwise, she’d strive to use five-dollar words. Words meant to protect her from ever again being called lower than dirt by another living soul.

“Nothing, other than it’s a red flag that he hits the bars right after work, trolling for women.”

“Agnes Johansson, I’ve never known you to utter such gobbledygook. I raised you to be smarter. I think Maxi’s got you all in a dither, or you’re trying to throw me off my bone.”

Despite herself, Aggie grinned, remembering his face when she called him Maxi. “What bone would that be?”

“You know exactly what bone that would be, smarty pants.” The Southern drawl had lost its charm.

A hefty twinge of guilt over saying something that took some of the happy out of Meemaw’s day tried to squeeze through the cracks of Aggie’s conscience. Luckily, its plump ass got stuck before it could do any damage, and she held firm on the need to squelch Meemaw’s romance angle. It was for the best.

Meemaw sighed. “Tell me about the job.”

“I think I’m going to like it.” The truth lurched out before Aggie contemplated the pros and cons of admitting that. She floundered for a moment then recovered. “That is if he doesn’t ruin it by injecting his personality into my duties.”

“Interesting. I don’t remember you ever mentioning liking any of the other jobs you’ve held this year. That’s a sure sign you connected with your new boss.”

“Meemaw, please don’t read something into nothing. He was born into money. What could we possibly have in common besides the paycheck he signs and I deposit?” This was a two-month job. Not her life’s career. Or the beginning of a beautiful love story.

“Honey, I’ve got to get back to work,” Meemaw said, “but before I go, I want you to listen to me and listen good. I’ve told you that times are changing. You’ve got a real shot with someone like him.”

Aggie knew that wasn’t true, but for the first time she could remember, she found herself wondering what if it was? What if men like him no longer thought her inferior because she was the bastard child of a bastard mom?