The Summer Proposal by Vi Keeland by Vi Keeland

Max raised a brow. “Are we talking sober or drunk?”

“Either.”

He hung his head. “I ate an Oreo that was on the floor for about five minutes. Actually, I wound up eating it out of the sink. It was the last one, and my brother and I were fighting over it. I’d scooped it off the floor and almost had it to my mouth when he knocked it from my hand and sent it flying across the room. It landed in a pot full of greasy water my mother had been soaking from dinner. It was probably floating in there for thirty seconds or so while we wrestled over who could get to it first.”

Maggie wrinkled her nose. “That’s kinda gross. But I won’t hold it against you since you were a kid.”

Max grinned. “It was six months ago. We were at my brother’s for dinner.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re lucky you got extra points for taking in your nieces’ Pomeranian and adopting from the pound,” Maggie said. “Because that just lost you one. Gross.”

Max waved her on. “Hit me with another one. I can win this. I know I can.”

“Alright.” Maggie stared off for a few seconds while drumming her fingers against the table. She then raised her pointer in the air, and I all but pictured a giant light bulb in a cartoon bubble above her head. “I got one. Food you eat frequently.”

“Easy. Cheerios.”

“Really? That’s weird. Not bread, or chicken, or even pasta or rice. Cheerios?”

“Yep. I freaking love ’em.”

Maggie shrugged. “If you say so. What about your favorite book?”

“Probably The Boys of Winter.”

“I don’t know it.”

“It’s about the nineteen-eighty Olympic hockey team.”

Maggie’s nose wrinkled, and she pointed to me. “Sounds as boring as the crap she reads. A few years ago I caught her re-reading The Great Gatsby. Who reads F. Scott Fitzgerald unless it’s assigned to you in high school? And even then, you skim and read the CliffsNotes version.” She shook her head. “Okay, next question. This one’s double or nothing, so you better answer it right. Do you or do you not have any plans to live in London anytime soon?”

Max flashed a dimple and looked at me. “Definitely not. I’m no dumbass.”

“Good answer.” Maggie grinned. “What’s something you like but are embarrassed to admit?”

Max hung his head again. “I sometimes watch Jersey Shore reruns.”

“Interesting. Would you rather hang out with Snooki or JWoww?”

“Snooki. No contest.”

Maggie took a deep breath and shook her head. “I was afraid of this.”

“What? Was JWoww the right answer?”

“No…not at all. You’re perfect for her. That’s why she won’t go out with you.”

“What do I need to do? Forget to hold the door and check out other women while she’s talking?”

“I’m not sure that will do it.”

“Umm...” I looked back and forth between Max and Maggie and pointed to myself. “You know I’m sitting right here, right?”

Maggie winked at me. She then proceeded to pick up her wine and chug the entire thing in one impressive gulp. She slapped the empty glass down on the table with a large aahh before abruptly standing.

“It’s been lovely, boys and girls.”

My face wrinkled. “Where are you going?”

“My job is done here. I think I’m going to pop over to Aaron’s lawyer’s for a booty call. All the testosterone in that arena got me in the mood.” She leaned down and kissed my cheek. “You two have a fun evening.” She wiggled her fingers at Max. “Take good care of my girl, Pretty Boy.”

Without another word, she turned and strutted for the door. I blinked a few times. “Well, that was…interesting.”

“Who’s Aaron?”

“Her almost ex-husband.”

Max’s brows shot up. “She’s booty calling his lawyer, not her own?”

“Yep.” I shook my head. “There’s an old saying—Never go to bed angry; stay awake and plot revenge. Maggie rewrote it as, Never go to bed angry; stay awake and have revenge sex.”

Max laughed. “I like her. She seems like a no-bullshit type of person.”

“She is.”

“Plus…” He reached across the table and weaved his fingers with mine. “She got you to come here.”

“That she did. Though I feel like I was duped. The only reason she pushed for us to come out was because she planned to duck out like she just did. I don’t know how I didn’t see that all along.”

“Thank you for coming to the game tonight.” He squeezed my fingers and looked down at my shirt. “I really like you in my jersey.”

My stomach did that fluttery thing it did every time we were alone. The man was just too damn sexy for his own good. Who the hell looked that good at eleven o’clock at night after playing multiple hours of intense sports? Why couldn’t he have some bruises and oozing things on his face to be at least somewhat hideous?

I stared down at our joined hands. “I liked wearing it. But…I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to see each other. You seem like a really nice guy, but things between Gabriel and me… I just don’t know where they’ll end up.”