Not So Snow White Read Online Free PDF Page B

two bedrooms. "You know, the more I think about it, the more I think you should. Date, I mean. Might do us both some good. Give me a little room to breathe, and loosen up that tight-assed, overprotective tendency of yours, all in one shot." With a grin and a wiggle of her fingers, she disappeared into her room. Once again, having the last word.
    He couldn't help it. She'd left him with his mouth hanging open. What was it the Brits called it? Gobsmacked? Didn't he have enough to deal with? She was just being ridiculous, but even if it were true, it was more than he was prepared to deal with.
    God, life had been so much easier before she grew breasts and started realizing boys were good for more than beating on the tennis court.
    With a confused sigh, Max walked to her still open bedroom door. He leaned on the frame and watched as she flopped across the bed, magazine in one hand, while booting up her laptop with the other. If he didn't know better, he'd think she was just a typical teenager with nothing more on her mind than boys and the latest fashion tips. If only.
    He let the room fall silent, save for the cl icking sound as she typed on her keyboard. Perhaps it was time he admitted that cajoling and psychology were never going to work with her. She'd always been too sharp to fall for that. Maybe it was time to try something completely new. Desperate times called for desperate measures, he thought, then plunged ahead with plan B. Okay, so it was more like plan X, version 7.0, but who was keeping track?
    Instead of thinking of her as a naive sixteen-year-old—which she obviously wasn't—maybe he'd have more success if he appealed to the older-than-her-years side of her. What the hell did he have to lose? "You've grown up fast, Gaby. You're light-years past most girls your age. I know that and respect it. But if you think about it, I know you'd agree that it's been an insulated life, too, in a lot of ways. Playing tennis full-time, learning from tutors, constantly traveling. And now things are changing even faster. You're going to face things on tour I can't prepare you for."
    "Your point?" she said, not breaking stride in her keyboard tapping.
    "I'm asking you to be mature enough to recognize that we all need help from time to time. I think you could stand a little life coaching from the Glass Slipper people." He stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "And yeah, maybe I do need a break for a little life coaching of my own."
    That had her rolling to her back, eyes wide in surprise. "What is this? Saint Max admitting that maybe he's not perfect?"
    Now it was Max's turn to snort. "I've never pretended to be perfect or a saint." He smiled. "In fact, I feel far from that most every minute of every day."
    Surprising him, Gaby's quicksilver mood changed yet again and her expression immediately softened. She scooted off the bed, came over, and wrapped he r arms around him, putting her head on his shoulder. "God, I'm a horrible sister, aren't I?" she said, completely sincere in that sudden way only she could be. "I'm sorry I'm such a bitch."
    Max's heart melted, as it always did when this side of Gaby— just as real as all the others, only making increasingly rarer appearances of late—surfaced. He smiled tiredly and pressed a kiss against her hair as he hugged her back. "Not horrible, no. But on the bitch thing? Totally," he said, in a teen-speak accent.
    She laughed even as she half-jokingly sucker punched him. "You so do not do that right. Please don't try to impress younger women with your mad slang skills. They won't be able to reject you because they'll be laughing too hard, But they will reject you."
    He rubbed his abs with one hand, but pulled her close with the other. "I think I'd figure it out, anyway. But thanks."
    He hugged her with one arm, which she returned, before looking up and catching his eye. It was moments like this, when her guard was down, and he saw all the love and fear and hope in her eyes—all