Aggie the Horrible vs. Max the Pompous Ass

by Lisa Wells

  She exhaled. She knew it. Her instincts hadn’t been wrong. He did find her attractive. “As a Reformer, you didn’t even ask me if I wanted you to be all full of self-control and make that decision for me.”

  “It was the right decision to make. I didn’t need to ask.”

  “Spoken like a true Reformer. That just proves why we’re not compatible. I’m spontaneous. I want a guy to kiss me and worry about the consequences later.”

  “That’s not realistic. I have a company to run. I can’t take the chance of kissing a woman who might decide afterward it wasn’t wanted and then file a sexual harassment lawsuit.”

  “You’re absolutely right. You’d be crazy to take that chance. But an Enthusiast like myself doesn’t always do what’s right. We do what feels good—even if it’s crazy. I want to be with someone who has enough spontaneity inside of him to keep me on my toes. To not bore me with constant rules.”

  The sparkle in his eyes dimmed. “I see.”

  The effervescence inside her belly fizzled. Sometimes being an adult and making decisions based on logic really sucked. “So you agree we’re not romantically compatible, and we should join forces to dissuade our grandmothers of their hopes for a budding relationship?”

  He scratched the back of his neck and then inhaled and exhaled loudly. “What do you have in mind?”

  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.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Aggie added up the potential value of her thirteen cards. Twelve. Five of them hearts. She laid all of the cards facedown in front of her, placed her elbows on the table, framed her face with her hands and gave Max, who was about to start this round of bidding, her I-love-you expression.

  His lips twitched, but just for a second, and then they went back to neutral.

  “You okay there, sugar britches?” Meemaw said. “It’s not like you to prop your elbows on a table when in polite company.”

  Aggie removed her elbows, picked up her cards, and gave Meemaw a look of pure innocence. “Simply trying to concentrate on the rules of the game.”

  “Is that what you were doing?” Max asked in a deadpan tone.

  She watched his eyes to catch his signal. None came. Why?

  “Maxi, darling, start the bid,” Ms. Grace said.

  “One heart,” he said.

  Ms. Grace, who sat to his left, studied her cards. “No bid.”

  Aggie chewed on her bottom lip and tried to recall all the details on deciding your bid. She didn’t want to blow this. She needed to impress Max with her brain. She studied her cards. “One no trump.”

  Meemaw surprised Aggie with a, “No bid.” It wasn’t like Meemaw to not play aggressively at anything. Even if it meant bluffing.

  After the bidding went another circle around the table, Max said, “We have three no bids. A contract has been entered into. And we are about to play a hand in which we must make at least eight tricks with hearts as trumps.”

  Aggie grinned. This was good. She had hearts. Five of them.

  Max surprised everyone by chuckling.

  Meemaw glanced from one to the other. “Grace, I do believe our grandchildren have found their rhythm.”

  Ms. Grace glanced at Max from over her cards. “I do believe you’re right.”

  Sometime later, Aggie released a whoop of joy. “We win!”

  “Gosh darn it, looks like the two of you will have to do the cooking,” Meemaw said. “Shall we say next Wednesday night?”

  Max pulled his gaze from a smiling Aggie and glanced from one grandmother to the other. “You two lost on purpose, didn’t you?”

  Aggie lost her smile and glowered at Meemaw. “You purposefully threw a game?”

  Meemaw grinned. “Someone needed to show the two of you how to lie convincingly. We decided it might as well be us. The very ones you were trying to dupe.”

  “You know about our plan to hoodwink you?” Aggie asked.

  “Oh yes, we do,” Meemaw said. “And there’s only one logical reason I can think of as to why you’d feel the need to go to such lengths. You like each other a lot, and you don’t want us to know yet.”

  “Grandmother, you’re awfully quiet over there. What do you have to say for yourself?” Max asked Ms. Grace.

  She folded her hands primly on the table. “It’s your own fault. When the two of you went outside in a supposed huff, we happened to see you laughing together. It became obvious to us that you’re simply pretending not to get along.”

  “Oh, we’re not pretending. He’s quite pompous.”

  “And she’s quite horrible.”

  Aggie startled. “Horrible? I’m nothing if not fabulous.”

  “And if that is true, I am nothing if not humble.”

  They glared at each other.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Friday, mid-morning, Aggie sat in the chair across from Richard Harris. For the past thirty minutes, she’d regaled him with fun, inspiring
stories of Meemaw in the hopes he might want to ask Meemaw out. They were waiting for Max to show up for a meeting. A meeting Aggie forgot to tell him about.

  Not that Max knew the mix-up was her fault. When she’d texted him, she made it sound like he’d somehow forgotten about it.

  “There was this one time when Meemaw put on a wig and wore glamour glasses and came to an event at my school called Muffins with Mom. She proceeded to introduce herself as my mom to my classmate, Wanda Pratt, who’d been teasing me because I didn’t have a mom.”

  “Your meemaw raised you?”

  Normally, this was where Aggie would change the subject. But she didn’t because she needed to stall until Max showed up. “When I was four, Mom dumped me on Meemaw’s porch while she was at work.” Aggie refused to let her brain dwell on those long hours she sat waiting for Meemaw to come home. Afraid she wouldn’t. Afraid she’d have to sleep outside all by herself.

  “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how that must have felt. What happened when Meemaw found you?”

  “She invited me inside, and we had a tea party. We talked about all the adventures we would have while waiting for Mom to come back and take me home.”

  “But she never did?”

  “Nope.”

  Richard stood and stepped to the windows. “Do you have any memories of your mom?” For an older gentleman, he was well preserved. He and Meemaw would make a cute couple. Maybe she should just offer him Meemaw’s number.

  “I remember her dropping me inside a trash bin outside a restaurant and telling me to dig through the trash for food.” She hadn’t meant to share that memory, but somehow, knowing Richard came from poverty as well, it seemed safe to do so. But she didn’t mention she also had to search for half-empty liquor bottles while in the dumpster.

  Richard jerked around and swore under his breath. “That’s one thing I never had to do.”

  Aggie shifted and tucked her feet up on the cushions. “Meemaw told me to look at it as a blessing. It made me life tough. I’m practically invincible.”