“Holy shit,” he said as he rolled to the side and pulled her against him.
“Mmmhmm,” was all she could respond. After a few seconds, she looked up at him.
“If all hikes end like that, I wish I’d gotten into hiking years ago,” she said.
He laughed and then gave her a look that made her dizzy.
“You make me so happy, Olivia Monroe,” he said, right before he kissed her again.
Chapter Ten
Max poked his head into Kara’s office when he got in on Monday morning.
“Hey, do you have a minute to chat? I want to talk to you about something.”
Kara followed him into his office.
“Anything wrong, sir?”
He flicked the lights on and sat down behind his desk, coffee in hand. After . . . everything that had happened between him and Olivia after the hike, he ended up never sending that text to Kara, so he’d decided to wait to talk to her in person.
“No, no, nothing’s wrong, the opposite. I had an idea over the weekend. Well, actually, it wasn’t my idea—I was talking to a friend about the criminal justice reform bill and it was their idea.”
Not for the first time, he wanted to tell Kara about Olivia. Partly so he’d be able to actually give her credit for this idea, but also because Olivia was becoming a bigger and bigger part of his life, and it felt absurd that Kara didn’t know about her. Kara had been by his side for three years now—he either saw or talked to her almost every day, and the days they didn’t talk, they texted or emailed. She knew everything about him, almost. Except for this.
But no, he couldn’t tell her yet. It would be completely inappropriate for him to tell someone who worked for him about his new relationship. Besides, it wasn’t like this was the kind of thing they talked about; all he knew about her personal life was that she’d once brought her girlfriend to the office holiday party. He hoped he’d get to tell Kara about Olivia eventually, but that would be when he and Olivia were ready to go public, and they weren’t there yet. No matter how great things had been over the weekend (and they’d been really, phenomenally great)—that wasn’t in the plan for the immediate future.
“What was the idea, sir?” Kara asked.
Right, the idea.
“So I know you’ve been gently telling me for a while that the bill might not go anywhere. Well, my friend reminded me of something you and others here have also been trying to tell me: I can keep fighting for the bill, but I can do other things to help the cause of criminal justice reform. What if we had town halls in marginalized communities all around California—to find out what people most care about, to figure out other ways to help them, and so they know we’re listening to them and working for them, instead of just trying to fight a possibly losing battle? We might even try to get state legislators involved, see if we can change some California law in the process.”
Kara nodded slowly.
“Hmm. I like this idea, sir.” She flipped open her notebook and scrawled a few lines. “It’ll take a lot of work—from both the DC and local staffs, but I think everyone will be excited about it.”
Max rubbed his hands together. He couldn’t wait to tell Olivia this.
“Fantastic,” he said. “Maybe the first one could be in a few weeks? I could do one every Friday afternoon for the next few months!”
Kara laughed out loud.
“Excuse me, sir. I’m sorry, but no. A few weeks? This will take a great deal of planning and coordination; it’ll take closer to a few months for us to do this right.”
Sometimes he was happy that he had a staff who would tell it to him like it was and not jump to satisfy his every whim, even if those whims were ridiculous. But when they laughed at him like this . . . okay, fine, he was still happy about it, just less happy.
“Right, I didn’t think about that,” he said.
Kara flipped through her calendar.
“Plus, your schedule is pretty packed for the next few months, what with it being an election year and all. You have at least one fundraiser almost every week until I don’t know when.”
This was the problem with having someone on your staff whose literal job it was to schedule your time—he had no idea what was on his calendar from week to week.
“Nobody in Congress wants to vote for my bill, but they still want me at their fundraisers, huh?” he asked.
Kara looked up at him, a wry smile on her face.
“You know how this town works—you get a lot of headlines and buzz, so whether or not they want to vote for your bill, they still want you to make speeches to get people to throw dollars toward their campaigns.”
Kara made another note, then looked up at him.
“However, we could make this into a plan for the August recess. There will be lots of places that will be thrilled to have you, and some members of Congress, or Democratic challengers, who will be very happy to be on board.”
Kara stood up, notebook in one hand and calendar in the other.
“Let me call Andy, and then he can talk to the district offices and we’ll see if we can come up with a timetable.” She paused at his office door. “Good idea, sir. Please thank your friend for me.”
Max pulled out his phone to text Olivia as soon as Kara had closed the door behind her.
Chief of staff loves the town halls idea—told me to thank you for her. So thank you, from both me and her. Wish I could thank you in person right now, though.
Not for the first time, he wished Washington, DC, and L.A. were closer together. If only he could see Olivia again tonight.
“What have I gotten myself into?”
All week, as Olivia had done client work, written pitches for clients the firm hoped to get, and gone to lunches and coffees with law school friends and former colleagues to try to drum up business, that phrase had been drumming through her head. But not about the firm—about Max. How had she committed herself to him? And how did she miss him this goddamn much? Their weekend together had been so perfect, and she hated that because of the time difference and his job, all they had time for this week was occasional texts and a few quick phone calls.
And then she was furious at herself for missing him that much. And liking him that much. She’d caught herself daydreaming about his eyelashes in the middle of the workday, like some lovesick teenager. His eyelashes! He kept saying—and acting as if—he liked her that much, too, but this all just seemed far too good to be true.
The worst part was, she knew she desperately wanted it to be true. She wanted Max to be the caring, thoughtful, interesting man he seemed to be. She wanted the opportunity to get to know that man better. She wanted his desire for her, his interest in her, to be real. But she was still afraid she couldn’t trust any of it.
“Ready for bowling?” Max asked as Olivia opened her front door on Friday night.
She stepped outside.
“As ready as I’ll ever be. I haven’t gone bowling in years. We’ll see how this goes.”
He gestured down the street.
“I’m parked a few houses down—I don’t want anyone to recognize my car in your driveway. I’m sorry, I should have thought of that before.”
“Oh, that makes sense.” She was glad he’d thought about it now. “Thanks.”
They got in the car and he reached for her, then pulled back.
“I’m sorry, I forgot. I can’t kiss you here; I should have come inside for a few minutes. And I’ve been wanting to kiss you so much all week.”
She put her hand on his knee.
“We’ll have plenty of time after bowling. Or”—she raised an eyebrow at him— “we could go back inside.”
He grinned at her, and put his hand over hers.
“If we do that, we’re never leaving. And you know, I like bowling, but . . .”
She squeezed his hand.
“Look how impatient you are. Don’t get me wrong, I like it, but we can wait.”
Plus, she had her own reasons for wanting to go bow
ling tonight.
He drove them out to a place he’d found online that was supposed to have pub food that was actually good and beer in a bar attached to the bowling alley, and where you could reserve lanes in advance.
“Thank you for finding this place—I’m glad we’re not going to have to wait forever for a lane,” she said.
He laughed.
“I’m glad I found this place, too, or else I wouldn’t have suggested bowling at all. I loathe having to wait for things. I know maybe that makes me a privileged jerk; sometimes I make myself wait in line for brunch, just to prove I still can, but I hate every second of it.”
Olivia laughed.
“I hate it, too. That first weekend after I got here, I went to one of those places for brunch that I see all over Instagram, and I had to wait for an hour and a half! The food was good, but I’m not sure if there’s any food worth waiting an hour and a half for on a Sunday morning.”
“Thank God you feel that way,” he said.
He put on his fake glasses before they got out of the car. She still hadn’t seen him in that blond wig, but the glasses, plus his tousled hair and plain T-shirt, really did make him look different from the Senator Powell she saw on TV.
Their lane was flanked by teenagers’ birthday parties. The teens had obviously been there for a while and were already rowdy, which was perfect. Teens wouldn’t pay attention to the two of them, bless them.
Max picked up a bowling ball with three fingers, while Olivia tried out one ball, then another.
“I don’t even remember what I’m looking for here—what are these supposed to feel like?”
He picked up one of the balls she put down.
“You want it heavy enough so it can spin down the lane and knock over all of the pins but not so heavy you have trouble tossing it.”
She picked up a silver glittery ball and smiled.
“I think this is the one.”
Max went back to the first one he’d picked up.
“Are you just saying that because it’s sparkly?”
She grinned at him.
“So what if I am? A woman’s got to have some flair if she has to wear shoes like this, okay?”
He laughed and shook his head.
“Let’s order some food now, I’m starving. You can press the buttons right here and they bring it to you.”
They ordered loaded nachos and beer to start, and someone brought over their beer as Max and Olivia were setting up the scoring on the screen.
“How long has it been since the last time you were bowling, again?” Max asked her as she moved her glittery bowling ball from one hand to another.
She pursed her lips.
“Oh, let me see . . . at least seven years, it must be? The last time was for my friend Justine’s thirtieth birthday, and she must be thirty-seven or even thirty-eight by now? So we’ll see how this goes, I guess.”
He looked both kind and a touch condescending, just as she’d expected.
“Do you want to go first, or do you want me to go first?” he asked.
She put her finger to her lips as she considered that.
“You go first. Show me what I’m supposed to do so I remember.”
He nodded and took a sip of his beer.
“Okay—you put your three fingers in the ball like this,” he said, demonstrating. “Then you start from back here, and take a few not-quite-running steps, toss your arm back, and let the ball loose down the lane.”
His ball went flying down the lane, and it knocked down about half the pins. Olivia nodded slowly.
“Good job, look, you got—what, five of the little sticks down.”
He laughed.
“Pins, and I’m kind of rusty, but thanks. I also haven’t done this for a while, though for me it was less than two years ago. Right after I got elected, actually. We had a little bowling alley victory party for the campaign staff. Though that night I drank a lot more beer and hugged a lot more people than pins I knocked down. Here, I get one more try before it’s your turn.”
He picked up his ball again and threw it down the lane; three pins fell that time.
“I used to be better at this, I promise,” he said as he walked back to join Olivia.
She stood up and patted him on the shoulder.
“You seem pretty good at it to me.” She picked up her sparkly bowling ball and walked toward the lane. Max stood to the side to watch her with a smile on his face.
“You do it like this, right?” She took a few quick steps forward, swung her arm back, and released her ball straight down the middle of the lane. It flew all the way down and, SMACK, knocked all ten pins over in seconds. Max’s mouth dropped open.
Olivia threw her arms in the air.
“I’ve still got it!”
She turned to Max with a cocky grin and saw realization dawn over his face.
“You . . . you were conning me!” he said. “With that whole ‘oh, big, strong man, how do you hold a bowling ball’ act. Weren’t you?”
Her grin got bigger.
“I couldn’t help myself! Plus, I haven’t gone bowling in years, so I wasn’t sure if I’d still be good at it, but turns out I am.”
He stared at her without saying anything.
She sighed inwardly. She knew this was how he’d react. That’s why she’d done it.
She hadn’t initially meant to pretend to Max that she didn’t know much about bowling. It wasn’t like she’d been testing him—well, not exactly. But she knew all too well that men didn’t like it when you beat them at something. She learned that at a very young age when she beat Chris Riley in the spelling bee in third grade and he didn’t want to be her friend anymore. For a long time after that, she’d lost to boys on purpose, until one time when she lost a prize she really wanted to win, to a boy who didn’t even like her in the first place. Since then she’d played to win in everything she did, which, yes, had made her lose out on a few relationships, but at least she’d never lost her self-respect.
So when Max suggested bowling, she’d known she might beat him. And despite how great he was last week, despite how much he said he liked her and respected her, she knew that with men, like and respect only went so far. And so for the first time in a very long time, she’d thought about finding a way to back out of playing a game with a man so she wouldn’t have to face losing Max. But she knew she’d always wonder how Max would react if she beat him. So instead, she challenged herself to play to win, and to win big, to win with swagger, just so she’d know, once and for all, that Max Powell was just like all of the other guys.
“Are you mad about this?” she asked. “Because, oh man, if you can’t handle— ”
“I’m falling in love with you,” he cut in. “I was trying not to even admit it to myself, much less to you, but I can’t help it. I know it’s too soon, I shouldn’t have said this, but you can’t kick my ass at bowling like that and do a touchdown dance with that look on your face and expect me not to fall in love with you on the spot.”
Now it was her turn to stare at him, speechless.
He was falling in love with her? Not despite her ambition, but because of it? It was the triumphant, victorious look on her face when she’d beat him in bowling that made him realize it?
“I— ” she said, and then stopped. She hated how Max’s face lit up and then fell when she didn’t finish the sentence, but she had no idea what to say.
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to say something back,” he said. “I didn’t mean to say all of that just now, obviously. Or maybe not obviously, I don’t know, we still don’t know each other all that well, which might make everything I just said sound ridiculous, but— ”
“It didn’t sound ridiculous,” she said in a quiet voice.
His eyes drilled into hers, and a smile slowly dawned over his face.
“Good,” he said. “Now, let’s talk about something else. Um, how’s the firm going? Unless you don’t want to talk about that, that might s
till be stressful, um, how’s the food pantry, did you go there this week?”
She took a sip of beer and tried to pull her mind away from what Max had just said.
“The firm is going . . . okay. Ellie and I are both working every avenue to get business, which is all we can do, and the handful of clients we have seem to like our work a lot, which is key. We’ve gotten a few small projects lately, and that’s promising. I’m still anxious about it, though. I just wish we had one more big client; then maybe I could take a deep breath.” She picked up a nacho. “And yeah, I did go to the food pantry this week. I’m really glad I started going there—I think Jamila, the woman who runs it, and I are becoming actual friends, which is great. I told you about her; she’s the one who helped me get the car. And she had this really great idea for getting teens more involved with their work.”
For the rest of their time in the bowling alley, they drank beer, ate nachos, and talked about everything but the thing they were both thinking about. She told him about Jamila’s idea, and the birthday cake they’d had for one of the other regular volunteers that week; he told her about the protest signs he’d seen that week that had almost made him laugh out loud on national television. And every time they made eye contact, they both looked away, like if their eyes met for more than a few seconds, they’d have to stop talking and laughing and pretending that everything between them hadn’t completely changed in the past hour.
They finished the game—Olivia won handily, though Max had gotten a lot better over the course of the game—and Max touched Olivia’s hand.
“You ready to take off? Or do you want to hang out here some more?”
She shook her head.
“Let’s go. I have no cake at home, or even pie, but I do have ice cream, if that tempts you?”
Party of Two: The brilliant opposites-attract rom-com from the author of The Proposal! Page 14
