Page 50 of The Games We Play
I frowned. “What the hell does that even mean?”
“It means flowers, charming pickup lines, and pure sex appeal won’t help you here.”
I sucked in a deep breath, leaning back slightly. Well, shit. I relied on my good looksa lot.
“Because,” she continued, her expression unyielding, “she already knows how you look. She knows you’re capable of doing the small things.” Aspen hesitated. “Shedoesknow that, right?”
“Yes,” I muttered, my mind drifting back to all the little things I’d done—dinners, dancing, thoughtful gifts. Things sheprobably set on fire and then threw into the garbage disposal for good measure.
Aspen nodded, satisfied. “Good. Because now it’s all about action. Prepare to make yourself feel like a fool.”
I grimaced. That sounded awful, but my feelings didn’t really matter.
I’d dress up as a damn clown if Aspen thought it would work.
“I don’t even know where to start,” I admitted, my gaze dropping to the table. I picked at the beer label, giving my hands something to do.
“Well,” she said, grinning like she was actually enjoying this, “you’re in luck.”
I lifted a skeptical brow. “Yeah? How’s that?”
“Pennylovesromance novels,” Aspen said, her smile widening like she was about to deliver the most obvious solution in the history of solutions. “You’ve got an entire genre of advice at your fingertips.”
Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
A slow, disbelieving smile crept onto my face. “Aspen, you’re a genius.”
She did a dramatic half-bow from her chair, like she was accepting an award she definitely deserved. “Thank you, thank you.”
“I should rent some of her favorites from the library,” I said, half to myself.
“Bingo.” Aspen pointed at me. Then she tore the paper she’d been writing on and slid it across the table. “I took liberties and made a list of books to start with.”
I grabbed the note and scanned the list. A few titles, a couple of authors I’d never heard of, but I was making a mental note to hit the library first thing tomorrow.
“I say we meet once a week,” Aspen announced, reaching down into a massive tote bag and pulling out a planner. She flipped through the pages, pen poised like this was a real job.
“Weekly?” I asked, skeptically.
Aspen’s gaze snapped up to mine. “Are you serious about getting back on her good side or not?”
I was. Absolutely.
“Then once a week it is.” She didn’t even wait for my agreement. “I can come by the bar in the mornings when Ellie’s working the stand.”
“Wait,” I cut in. “Ellie’s working there again?”
Aspen groaned. “Yeah. Just until she finds something else. But this isn’t about Ellie right now. Focus.”
Rolling my eyes, I leaned back in the chair.
“How about Thursday morning?” Aspen asked after pondering over her schedule for a beat.
Considering I lived at the bar, she could show up whenever the hell she wanted. I didn’t need to check my calendar.
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
She extended a hand over the table, all business. “It’s going to be a pleasure working with you, Mac.”
