Bachelorette Blues

Her eyes strayed to the workout clothes she’d laid out for the aerobics class she’d missed. She didn’t have time to be fashion conscious, and if she showed up in a dress, Max might think she was trying to impress him.

Running for the shower, Shayna washed and dressed in record time. She pulled her hair into a ponytail as she raced down the stairs. After grabbing a dessert cookbook from the pantry, she lifted her keys from the hook.

Shayna smiled down at her watch—1:59. Not bad. She’d be a little late, but Max only lived a few minutes away. Once outside, she scanned the lot for her white Toyota.

That was strange. She usually parked it…

Shayna slammed her palm into her forehead. Her car was still at the service station.

Max looked up from the video game he was working on to check the time. Two-thirty. His brows rose. He’d expected to hear her car pull up right on the dot. But then again, Shayna hadn’t been her usual self lately.

Then he heard tires screeching in front of the house. He walked over to the window in time to see a very rumpled Shayna stumble out of a Toyota Camry. By the time he’d climbed the basement stairs and pulled open the front door, she was raising her hand to knock.

She hurried inside then spun on her heel to face him. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I forgot my car was at the service station, and my neighbor Kitty had to—”

He held up his hand to stop her. “It’s okay. By my standards, this is right…on time.” He couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to her hair. Looking away, he tried to repress the grin he felt coming to his lips, but it was already too late.

Following his gaze, Shayna reached up to pat her head. Her ponytail slumped to one side like a fallen tree, and spiky strands were sprouting out all around it. “Oh my goodness. Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed to the top of the stairs, chuckling as she took them two at a time.

As he waited for her to return, Max realized this was yet another side of Shayna he hadn’t seen before. Rumpled and mussed, dressed in a faded red sweatshirt, stretch pants and running shoes, she looked comfortable and…cute.

Max grinned. Like she’d just rolled out of bed.

Maybe he’d misjudged Shayna and her rigidity. Sure she was always talking about organization at the meetings, but maybe she was more relaxed in her personal life. Perhaps they had more in common than he’d thought.

She came downstairs, looking more like the Shayna he was used to. She’d straightened her ponytail and secured it with one of those bunchies, crunchies or whatever women wore in their hair these days.

He smiled at her. “You didn’t have to fix it on my account.”

She gave him a sheepish grin that made him want to hug her. “You seem to be catching all my bad hair days.”

He reached out to tug on her ponytail. “You always look great to me.” As he pulled his hand back, his fingers grazed her neck, and her eyes widened before she dropped her gaze to the floor.

So she felt it, too. Good, Max thought. Now all he had to do was get her to admit it.

Shayna stepped away, nodding as she glanced around. “You have a nice house.” Her tone sounded almost surprised.

“Thanks,” he said, feeling an uneasy twinge as he realized she probably was.

He knew she didn’t have much regard for the fact that he made a living playing video games. She’d probably expected to find him living in a cluttered little shack with plastic furniture and cardboard shelves. He made a good living, and he couldn’t resist showing off a little. “Let me show you around.”

“Sure,” she said, following him upstairs.

By the time they’d made it down to Max’s office in the basement, Shayna had given him tips on folding towels, eliminating dust bunnies, and how he could save himself fifteen extra minutes in the morning by switching his socks from the top to the bottom drawer.

“So this is it.” Shayna turned around, taking in his office. “This is a nice setup.”

Max waited, knowing what was about to follow.

“But you know…”

He grinned. He’d recently learned that all of Shayna’s helpful hints began that way.

“If you move your desk over to the window, you could take advantage of the natural sunlight in the morning.”

Okay, so she wasn’t as laid-back as he’d hoped, and they were as’ opposite as night and day. That’s what Max liked about her.

He knew exactly where she was coming from. He used to be a slave to deadlines and schedules, and he saw so much of his old self in Shayna. Part of him had to admire her devotion to a life-style he hadn’t been able to maintain. Another part of him wondered if she would burn herself out the way he had. He knew just what kind of discipline it took to keep up such a rigid pace. He also knew that it eventually took its toll.

Max liked having the freedom to dive off in a new direction the minute an idea surfaced. He’d given up trying to conquer the waves. Now he was content to go with the flow, letting life carry him where it pleased. Would Shayna learn to do the same, or would the currents eventually pull her under?

“Explain to me again how a grown man makes a living playing video games.” Shayna was examining the shelves that contained his extensive collection of games and entertainment systems.

“Have you ever played a video game?”

Shayna shrugged. “I played a couple games with my niece at Christmas, but I never really got the hang of it.”

“Well, it can be addicting. People—not just kids—are willing to pay a lot of money to someone who can get them through the rough spots. I produce a newsletter that provides hot tips for the latest games, and I have a small staff that mans a video game hotline.”

Shayna studied the fifty-inch television in the middle of his office. “Where do you get these tips from?”

He grinned. “From playing the games.”

She shook her head. “I don’t understand. Isn’t that what everybody does? How do you discover these tips no one else can?”

He grinned mischievously. “It’s what I do.”

She shot him an exasperated look.

“Actually, I have an advantage. I used to design video game programs myself. I know what to look for.”

“You used to design video games? You actually wrote the programs?”

He nodded, preparing for her next logical question.

“Then why—”

“Why did I give up designing games to play with them?”

“Yes. Obviously your business is doing well, but programming video games could make you a millionaire. Why would you trade that in?”

“Because of the typical politics that come with big business. To make a long story short, it wasn’t fun anymore. The challenge was gone. I enjoy solving the puzzle, finding the quirks and traps in someone else’s games. I still knock off a game of my own every now and then, but I’m a free agent, my own boss.”

Her brow was furrowed, as if she were still working it out in her head.

“It’s just like you and life management consulting. You took something you had a natural talent for, something you enjoy, and you turned it into a business. It’s the same thing. I wanted to be in control, make my own schedule. And most of all, play video games all day.”