Page 75 of The Marriage Game

“Especially since I don’t remember him ever having to deal with a rogue dog almost giving away his whole game,” he says, then he surprises me by reaching up behind my head and releasing my claw clip. “Sorry,” he says, sounding anything but, “I’ve been thinking about doing that for the last thirty minutes.”

“You don’t like my hair clipped back?”

“I like your hair all the ways,” he replies, “but watching your hair fall down across your shoulders is a favorite pastime of mine, one I’ve neglected of late.” I blush, but any response I might have given is cut off by a loud rapping on the door.

“What the–who is that?” Max frowns, releasing me to stride toward the door. He peers through the peephole, then steps back in horror. “It’s your sisters,” he mouths to me, and my eyes widen.

“What?” I squeak, hurrying to join him at the door and taking a look for myself. Yup, there they are: Brooke and Hannah. “What do we do?” I hiss.

“Not answer,” he suggests with a shrug. This plan is ruined by the words that come barging through the door.

“Max! Max, we know you’re in there!” This comes from Brooke.

“Yeah, open up!” And there’s Hannah.

“Now what?” I mouth.

Max frowns. “Your call, Jill,” he whispers. “Do you want them to think we’re in a fight or not?”

I contemplate the question. “There’s no way they’ll agree to lie to Dorothy for us,” I murmur, “so I guess, yes.”

Max nods. “Okay, then, I think you’d better hide.”

“Hide?” I repeat, and once again ridiculous, inappropriate laughter bubbles up inside of me. I’m really not built for a life of malfeasance–I was crazy to even think that I could ever sabotage Max’s campaign. I wouldn’t have lasted a day not giving one-hundred percent to his cause.

“Unless you want to have it out right in front of them?” He quirks an eyebrow at me. I wrinkle my nose, and shake my head.

“Brooke and Hannah will see right through me,” I whisper.

“Max! Don’t make me get my husband to break this door down!” Hannah shouts.

“I’ll hide,” I say quickly, spurred into action by her words. I scurry to the bathroom, stepping behind the door. Conveniently I can see the doorway through the crack between the wall and the door.

Max waits a beat, then swings open the door. I wince as I notice at the last second that he’s still holding my clip in his other hand. How is he going to explain that?

“Hannah, Brooke,” Max greets them calmly, like they haven’t been banging on his door for the last three minutes.

“What are you doing in here?” Brooke demands. “Why aren’t you in your cabin with Jill?”

“And why did Walter want to come in here?” Hannah presses.

Like a true politician, rather than answering their questions, Max fires back with one of his own. “How did you two know I was in here?”

“Duh,” Hannah—who really has held onto some of her inner teenager despite being in her thirties now—scoffs, “we saw you sneaking down the hall.”

“I assure you, I wasn’t sneaking anywhere,” he lies smoothly. “But, uh, what else did you see?” he adds far less smoothly. I stifle a groan. My guess is he’s trying to ascertain if they saw me come in, but, man does he sound like he’s hiding something. If they didn’t already know I was in here they’re sure to figure it out now. I scramble for a reasonable explanation for our behavior—I don’t work in public relations for nothing—but I’m too busy listening to their conversation to come up with anything.

“Just Walter scratching on your door,” Hannah answers. “After that people got in the way, all trying to catch Walter.Huh!” she gasps. “Wait—what do you mean what else did we see? Are you hiding something, Max?” Her eyes dip down to the incriminating hair clip in his hand. “Whose hair clip is that, Max?” she demands.

A new voice joins the fray. “Room service delivery for room 340,” the voice says, sounding uncertain—as anyone would when confronted with my sisters conducting an interrogation. I may have gotten all of the intimidation genes in the family, but what they lack in intimidation they more than make up for with their disarming, Gilmore Girls style banter.

“Room service for two!” There’s an icy edge to Hannah’s voice, making me reconsider my opinion of her intimidation abilities. “Sneaking off to a hotel room, holding a woman’s hair clip, ordering room service!” She pokes Max hard in the chest. “I know you let me live in your guest house rent free for over a year, but so help me if you’re cheating on my sister I will murder you.”

“And I’ll help her hide the body,” Brooke adds magnanimously.

It’s ridiculous, but my eyes tear up at their declarations. I never thought someone offering to commit murder for me could be so moving.

“Woah, woah, woah!” Luke suddenly appears, looking stricken. “Who is my wife—the wife of a pastor, I might add—threatening to murder?”

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