As if he’d read her mind and had a sixth sense, his eyes flitted about and landed on her Care Bears T-shirt. The one that read GRUMPY IN THE MORNING—LOVE-A-LOT AT NIGHT. The two respective bears sat with their backs to each other. Chris bit his lip, but it didn’t hide his smile.
She jackknifed, pulling herself up, and reached out to snag it from its pile.
His laughter did funnier things to her stomach than the vodka. Not unpleasant things.
“Cute,” he said, grinning at Everly.
Everly stood up, hoping her cheeks weren’t blazing pink. It was a cute shirt, and it was cozy. “What are you doing here?”
Chris frowned. “Could we have this conversation in your living room or kitchen?”
Everly nodded and then followed behind him, wondering why she’d never noticed how good he looked in jeans before.
He doesn’t wear jeans to work, and you generally resist staring at your boss’s ass. Not just because he was her boss either. Memories of the other night came back to her, and her cheeks felt like they caught fire. Good thing she’d capped her list at ten or she’d have to add: No lusting after off-limits men who make you feel off balance, especially when they are in charge of your career. Without a limit, it would have been a very long list.
She was a wimp. Two coolers and now she was all brain-fuzzy over Chris Jansen? Good thing she had another date coming up tomorrow.
Still holding her Care Bears shirt, Everly took a seat on her couch. Stacey was curled up on a chair. Chris walked to the window and looked out, his square jaw set tight. Did he hear Simon on the air? He must have. Was he mad? I didn’t do anything!
“Coffee is almost ready,” Stacey said.
Everly’s manners kicked in belatedly. “Chris, do you want a cup?”
He didn’t look at her when he declined. When he shared a look with Stacey, she felt like she’d taken a punch to the stomach. What were they communicating with unspoken words?
Had Simon screwed things up for her? The interview with him sucked, but it wasn’t that big a deal, was it?
The website and all their social media were still going crazy with the contest. Companies and corporations were contacting them for ad time and upping the prices they were willing to pay. They were bringing in more corporate sponsors than any of them had imagined. She had no reason to worry. That doesn’t always make it go away, though.
She braced her back against the softness of her couch, let herself sink into it. Stacey got up and grabbed some coffee. Whether she was just being a good friend or giving them a moment to talk, Everly didn’t know. What she did know was she owed Stacey a dinner or a bottle of expensive wine. Something to thank her for how awesome she’d been.
Stacey came back with two mugs and handed one to Everly before returning to her seat.
Everly sipped. Waited. Sipped again. Patience was not her strong suit. “What’s going on?”
Chris met her gaze finally. “I wanted to talk to you about calling off the contest.”
Everly jolted forward, sloshing coffee over the rim of the mug and on her hand. “Damn it.”
Chris rushed forward, took the cup from her. “Did you burn yourself? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she ground out, shaking the scalding liquid off her fingers.
Stacey stood as well, going to grab a cloth, she hoped, and Chris took Everly’s wrist to examine the burn. “You need to run cold water on your hand.”
Shaking him off, his touch seeming hotter than the coffee, she stood and walked ahead of him, ran the water. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” But the water stung as she slipped her hand under the spray. Looking at him over her shoulder, she saw his brow was furrowed in worry. “What do you mean, call it off?”
“Yes, explain yourself,” Stacey said, joining them in the kitchen. She tossed the cloth she’d used in the sink. Everly would put it in the wash later. Right now, she needed to hear what Chris had to say.
Stacey pointed at him. “We aren’t quitters.”
Chris gave an exaggerated sigh, placed his hands on his hips, and stared down at the floor. When he looked up, he pinned Stacey with a glare. “Do you ever remember that I’m your boss?”
Stacey rolled her eyes. “Sorry. Explain yourself, boss.”
Everly bit her lip to keep from laughing, because it didn’t look like Chris found her all that funny. She turned off the water, which brought Chris’s attention back to her. He grabbed a tea towel from the bar on the stove and came closer, taking her hand in his. Her heart galloped, and she told it to chill out. Then she focused on keeping her body stiff so she didn’t do something stupid like lean in and rest against him.
“It’s still red,” he commented, brows furrowed.
She tugged her hand away, drying it with the towel. “It’s fine. Can you please answer the question?”
“Your ex is using this as a promotional tool to turn the spotlight on himself,” he said.
“Uh, yeah,” Stacey said.
Chris stayed focused on Everly. “I don’t want you to feel stuck. We can take a different approach. I won’t have him sullying your name all over town.”
She didn’t even feel the smile sneak up on her, but she felt it in the way her cheeks stretched. She probably looked like a fool. “Sully? What am I, a heroine in a historical romance novel? Are you worried I won’t make a good impression on high society?”
Stacey cracked up but tried to look serious. “Perhaps you could challenge Simon to a duel.”
“At dawn,” Everly added.
Stacey rolled her eyes. “Duh. That’s the only time you can challenge someone to a duel.”
“I don’t think it is. I’m pretty sure you can do it at sunset, too.”
Chris made a growly sound of impatience, which sent a shiver running over Everly’s skin. “As funny as you two are, I’m being serious. I didn’t anticipate he’d try to tell his side, and I should have. You don’t need to feel boxed in by his actions or this contest.”
Rubbing the material of the tea towel soothed her fluttering heart. Mildly. “This is what I signed up for. We’re using what happened as promotion, so it doesn’t surprise me that he would as well. I’m not backing out or giving up.” She thought of her list. Rule six: Be bold, even if it gives you hives. She could do bold. She paused. No hives. “I said I’d do this, and I will. If he wants to paint a different picture, that’s on him.”
Running a hand through his hair, Chris stared at her like he expected her to change her mind. She and Stacey exchanged a glance. Stacey shrugged.
“Despite the security, this could draw the wrong kind of people in. His stupid interview could have people trashing you online instead of supporting you.”
“That could happen anyway. One of the guys she dates who doesn’t get pushed through to the next round could say things online. We’ve thought of this,” Stacey said.
Chris caught Everly’s eye, and it struck her that she wasn’t as nervous with him in her space. The first time he’d come, she’d had trouble catching her breath.
Stacey waved a hand. “This doesn’t change anything. Promo and ad space interest are through the roof. Our social media people are working overtime to keep up with the number of messages and emails. People would go crazy if we stopped this.”
Everly nodded, and Chris moved closer.
Her fierce friend paused, and Everly smiled at her. “Can you give us a minute, Stace?”
Her friend’s brows arched up, her forehead crinkling. “Okay,” she said, drawing the word out longer than necessary.
Everly’s heart rhythm tripled. Being alone with Chris was enough to sober her all the way up. So much for the whole I-can-breathe-around-him-now theory. She clenched the towel between her hands, playing a one-woman version of tug-of-war with the two ends.
“I’m worried that this will get out of hand. That I cornered you into this,” he said, his voice lowering.
His arm brushed against hers, but she didn’t step back. The warmth of his
body and the heat of his gaze made her want to step forward. The alcohol had pretty much worn off, and she felt hyperaware of … everything. Like that chick in Twilight after she turned. What is wrong with you? Finish having a normal conversation with your boss. Pretend you’ve got this.
“We can’t go backward because Simon is a jerk. The whole reason I’m in this mess is because he’s an idiot. Well, and also because my best friend is a bit of a wild card.” Also because of a list she’d decided to make and see through, but there was no way she was letting him in on that little secret.
His gaze snapped back to hers. “I should have expected retribution from him. I let you down, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
Without meaning to, which surprised her because she was usually very purposeful with her touching, she pressed a hand to his chest. A charge of electricity zipped from her hand straight up her arm and burrowed right into her chest. Into her heart. Letting herself acknowledge the feeling wasn’t smart. He’d been very clear the other night that she was an employee. End of story. He’s helping you find a man for goodness’ sake. She knew he cared for her, for all of them. She didn’t need to mess up this tentative foray into friendship by misinterpreting his feelings or her own. Her thoughts, and feelings, were reserved for the five remaining men she had scheduled dates with.
“I’m thirty years old and single. I want forever, but I’m scared to find it. It’s time for me to get a little uncomfortable.”
The moment held, froze, and spun out. Her hand on his chest absorbed the steady thump of his heart so it felt like her palm had its own heartbeat. She physically fought the urge to curl into him and fit her body to his.
“What are we doing here, people?” Stacey called from the other room.
The moment snapped like a twig underfoot, and Everly all but jumped back.
“Moving forward,” Chris said, his voice rough and his gaze sharp, focused. On her.
Stacey appeared in the doorway. “Yay. Can we do it with food? I’m starving.”
Everly rolled her eyes, stepped around Chris and out of his personal space. Her lungs loosened, and she pulled in a deep breath.
“Yes. You order something. I need to put my clothes away and figure out what I’m wearing tomorrow night on date number two.”
She walked away, back to her room, resisting the urge to curl up with her clothes again. If the effects of the alcohol had already started to wear off, why did she feel so very intoxicated?
[15]
A strange kind of energy pulsed through Everly’s body. It was an I’ve-got-this-screw-Simon-and-the-girl-who-rode-him type of enthusiasm. Tonight’s date would be a success. Every bit as much as the last one. Rule seven: No more holding back. She was a smart, fun, funny person who could handle a second first date in the same week. With that reminder, she pulled the door of Mocktails open. Despite its moniker, it did serve alcoholic beverages. She’d checked. Just inside the door, waiting to the right of the hostess station by a few other people, was her date. Corbin Brown, thirty-four years old, owned his own house-painting business and liked animals, sailing, and hosting parties. The party thing made her shudder, but Everly reminded herself she was doing this to become more of the person she imagined herself to be. Someone who didn’t feel like she was going to throw up if they had to hang out with more than three people.
He caught sight of her, his dark eyes widening and a smile taking over his angular face. As he walked toward her, she realized that he was well over six feet, with shoulders like a linebacker.
“Everly,” he said, his voice softer than she’d expected from such a large man. He pulled her into a hug before she could set any boundaries.
Her surprise was muffled against his chest, and he let go of her before she could say a word. “Sorry,” he said, looking down at her. “I’m just so glad to meet you.”
That’s nice. “Thank you,” she said, somewhat stiffly. She held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Corbin.”
His wide mouth turned up in a one-sided grin. He shook her hand and said nothing, but she sensed his amusement.
“We have a reservation under your name, right?” He gestured for her to go ahead of him.
The young woman at the front had her hair pulled back and a happy smile on her face. “Welcome to Mocktails. Do you have a reservation?”
“We do,” Everly said, her voice catching. “Sorry. Yes. It’s under Dean.”
She spotted the security detail eyeing her from the corner of the waiting area and gave a half wave. Corbin’s eyes followed her gaze even as the hostess said to follow her.
“You bring a backup date in case this one doesn’t go well?” he asked.
Everly laughed. “Not exactly.”
They were brought to the second floor—which was more of a raised seating area than an actual second story. Low lights lit the way, and laughter, clinking glasses, and music set the mood as relaxed and carefree. The mood of the room. Not Everly. She willed her heart rate to slow down as she slid into the chair Corbin held for her.
“Your waiter will be with you in one moment,” the hostess said and left them.
Corbin beamed at her across the table. Everly tried to smile back but couldn’t settle facing the entire room. They were in a corner, so she could see everyone and they could see her. They aren’t looking at you.
“You okay?” Corbin asked.
Everly saw the security guy take a seat at the bar. What even was her life right now? She was on a date in a crowded place with a stranger and a bodyguard. She’d rather be home watching Veronica Mars, texting Stacey, and eating cookie dough. But you’re not, because you turned thirty, not thirteen. So, get your head in the game, Dean. Rule number one: Focus on the good.
“I’m fine. I just get a little nervous staring out at the room.”
The waiter approached even as Corbin stood. “That’s an easy fix. Have my seat.”
“Oh, everything okay here, folks?” the goateed waiter, who looked too young to serve anything but mocktails, asked.
Everly’s pulse skittered, and she stood up. People aren’t staring at you guys. You’re not making a commotion. He’s being an absolute gentleman.
“Everything is great. My girl just wants to sit on the other side of the table.”
Corbin switched spots with her, and the waiter took their drink orders after telling them the special.
My girl? Stop. Focus on the good. He’s thoughtful, and what was he supposed to say? “My blind date that I applied to a radio station for is being weird and wants to switch spots”? He simplified it. You should try that.
“Better?”
“Yes.” Everly nodded, reminding herself of her earlier energy. I’ve got this. She pushed aside all her nerves, drawing on the inner strength she used when she had to attend a work function or one of her mother’s parties. “Everything is great. Sorry about that. Do you want to look at the menus first?”
“For sure,” Corbin said.
They glanced through, and after declining to share an appetizer, Everly chose the grilled salmon with baby potatoes. Corbin ordered a steak with onion rings, fries, and a side salad.
He shrugged when the waiter left their table the second time, picking up the beer he’d ordered. “I require a lot of fuel.”
Everly smiled, her shoulders loosening. “I guess so.”
“I don’t get it,” Corbin said.
“What?” Everly paused with her wineglass halfway to her mouth.
“Gorgeous woman like you? I don’t understand why men cheat, anyway, but when you’ve got the deluxe model at home, what the hell was he thinking?”
She grinned, but she wasn’t entirely sure if she considered it a compliment. She decided to sidestep the conversation entirely. He pulled his phone out of his pocket as she asked, “You own your own business. What’s that like?”
Corbin checked something on his phone, then glanced up. “I love it. I’ve got a crew of guys who work under me, so I can wor
k whatever hours I want. My mom takes care of the paperwork, and I can take Scooter with me everywhere I go.”
“Scooter?” He drives a scooter?
He picked up his phone and swiped his thumb across it, all while bumping his chair over so they were closer and she could see.
“My dog. He’s just the sweetest thing ever. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”
Everly’s stomach dipped like she’d just fallen flat on her ass on a hard surface. She stretched her lips wider and hoped she looked like she was smiling and not panicking as she looked at the pictures.
Oh, the pictures. There were so many pictures. By the time she’d seen his Lhasa apso in a pumpkin costume, a dog-size Green Bay Packers jersey, and Christmas pajamas, she needed a refill for her drink.
“He sleeps on my bed. My last girlfriend didn’t like sharing her pillow, so I’ve trained him only to use mine,” Corbin said, setting his phone down and winking at Everly. “So that’ll never be an issue if you don’t like to share.”
I’m guessing that wouldn’t be my issue, dude. If she smiled any wider, her lips would crack. Glancing around, she saw their waiter. “Our food!”
Thank goodness she’d switched seats because she just knew people were looking their way. Her cheeks burned when she realized how loud she’d been. Corbin let loose a deep chuckle.
“Hungry girl.”
They were partway through their meals when he committed the cardinal sin. Sharing was fine if you were both on board with it. It was a deal breaker, in Everly’s world, on a first date. Sure enough, he reached across with no warning and scooped up a potato, popped it in his mouth.
“Delicious. You want an onion ring?”
Ten Rules for Faking It Page 13