Page 32 of The Romance Line
He seems to give that some thought before he says, “You’re taking this seriously.”
“Of course I am. It’s my job. I love my job. I work very hard at it and I give it my all every day. And I’m in line for a promotion,” I say, laying my cards on the table. Since hedoesn’t trust easily, or at all, it’s better if he knows my deal. I don’t want him to be surprised later.
With a decisive nod, he says, “Let’s get you a promotion then, Everly.”
It’s a welcome change from him angling to get out of this project.
As he snags another roll, I continue. “Great. Here’s how I think we should start. It won’t take too long to restart your social before we move onto the community outreach step. I’m guessing a week or so if all we need to do is build out your social with some fresh content. Nothing too taxing. Just pics of your favorite things.”
“Like rainy days with my favorite mug? Like soft blankets and the smell of lilacs in the morning?” He flutters his lashes in complete mockery.
But I fight fire with fire this time. “Sure. We can take a picture of you gazing out your bay window and watching the city roll by while you drink chamomile tea. Then we’ll snap a shot of you shopping for pumpkins at the farmers’ market. And maybe you can even sniff a candle when you get home. How does that sound?”
Oh, did that come out sarcastic? My bad.
“Let’s start Monday. I have a candle-making class, in fact,” he counters, not one to be outdone.
“Fantastic. I’ll be there taking pics.”
“And the farmers’ market is the next day. Let me just make sure I have my favorite wicker basket to bring.”
“The one with the red gingham cloth in it?”
“How did you know? I got it the other day at the craft fair. Then I wrote about it in my journal of good things. Fucking love that gingham cloth.”
“It’s so you, right? Upbeat and cheery?” I set my chin in my hand, playing it up.
He smiles, showing zero teeth, then says, “So very me.”
We’re not done yet though. We need to get a date on the schedule for the first pic. “Candle-making it is, then? That’s how you want to start with your favorite things?”
“It’s either that or the circus,” he tosses back.
And oh.Oh my. He has no idea what he just did, does he? I jump on the chance he just gave me. “I pick candle-making,” I say.
He narrows his brow, tilts his head, studies me. Naturally, being the naysayer he is, he replies, “Nah. Let’s do the circus.”
I fight off a smile—the one that saysI set you up, Max Lambert.
I knew he’d pick the opposite of my choice. And I can’t wait to snap a shot of Mister Difficult ringside. “The big top it is,” I say.
His smile is smug, but he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.
12
THE FIRST MOVE
Max
That little stunt ought to buy me some time to get used to this invasion of privacy. Where’s she going to find a circus after all? It’s not like they’re popping up all over the place. The era of circuses is over. So score one for this guy.
“Are there even circuses anymore?” I ask Asher on Monday afternoon as I’m driving to the rink for our game against Chicago tonight. I gave him the download on the three-step-stab-my-eyes-out-with-toothpicks-battle plan.“Besides Cirque du Soleil.” Oh, shit. I groan as I flick my turn signal. “Fuck me. What if she takes me to Cirque du Soleil in Vegas this week?”
We’re heading there next for a stretch of away games, first in Vegas, then Denver.
He shoots me a look from the passenger seat. “And that’d be a problem for some reason? What’s wrong with Cirque du Soleil? That shit is cool. Also, what’s your deal?”
“What do you mean?” I ask him as we near the players’ lot.