Liv & Cash (The IT Girls Book 3)

by Paige Tyler

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

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  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EPILOGUE

  LIV & CASH

  The “IT” Girls

  Paige Tyler

  Copyright © 2021 by Paige Tyler

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission from the author.

  Editing by Jennifer Jakes / The Killion Group, Inc.

  Copyediting by RVP Editing

  With special thanks to my extremely patient and understanding husband, without whose help and support I couldn’t have pursued my dream job of becoming a writer. You’re my sounding board, my idea man, my critique partner, and the absolute best research assistant any girl could ask for!

  Thank you.

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  CHAPTER ONE

  My heart hammers so hard against my ribs that I’m almost convinced it might burst right out of my chest and tear off across the golden sands of the California beach. I sink down a little further into the booth at Franco’s Burgers, cringing as my thighs stick noisily to the shiny red plastic while I stare at my phone. Despite my panicked state, the atmosphere inside the little burger shack is cheery and light. Sunlight sparkles in through the numerous windows and waves crash against warm dunes just beyond the propped-open doors. Around me, people laugh and chat and munch on burgers and fries, sipping sodas and milkshakes. All the while, I’m simply trying to remember how to breathe.

  At least I don’t have to worry about being recognized as much as my two BFFs do. Which means I can have my mental breakdown in peace. Ever since we launched our incredibly popular beauty and lifestyle brand, Glossed & Glammed, from our dorm room during our sophomore year of college, Sutton and Kali haven’t been able to go anywhere without being recognized by our legions of fans and followers. My fellow twenty-two-year-old influencers don’t mind it at all, but that’s because they thrive off being the center of attention. As for me, the thought of a fan asking me for an autograph while I’m grocery shopping practically makes me break out in a cold sweat. That’s why I like to stay behind the scenes of G&G. I much prefer designing our outfits, helping set up our various video and photo shoots, and working the camera instead of having my face plastered on the front page of every social media outlet in the world. I mostly only get recognized when Kali, Sutton, and I are out somewhere together.

  My fingers tremble a little as I anxiously type out a reply to the group text on my cell.

  You can’t be serious, Kali! Sutton and I need you at this meeting. You’re the pro at handling all this business stuff.

  The two minutes it takes Kali to respond are the longest one hundred and twenty seconds I’ve ever suffered through in my life.

  I’m really sorry, Liv, but this meeting with our monthly charity is running long and there’s no way I can bail. Selena Gomez is here!

  Um…you can count me out too, babe, Sutton joins in.

  I stare helplessly down at the messages. The pit of my stomach clenches so hard that I almost want to pass out.

  What?! I type out hastily before sending.

  Sutton responds with a selfie of her surrounded by a huge group of Glossed & Glammed fans. Apparently, she’d gotten ambushed in LA while running some last-minute errands. Now she’ll be stuck taking pics with our followers instead of backing me up here at Franco’s Burgers.

  I gulp, my breath coming faster, and glance at the doors leading to the back of the beach side restaurant’s kitchen. Any second now, Franco, the big burger man himself, will come strolling out to talk business with me and I’m going to have to talk to him all alone.

  How in the world am I supposed to negotiate a business deal by myself?

  Kali is usually the one who handles this sort of thing. She’s always finding various sponsors and collaborators, not to mention handling all the contracts with them—when she’s not knee-deep in charity work anyway. Every month, she designates a different fundraiser that we boost and support with our ever-growing platform. Even Sutton, who definitely doesn’t have the business-oriented mindset of Kali, would be a better choice than me for this meeting because she’s so extroverted and witty. Sutton would at least be able to act like she had a clue about what was going on.

  Me, though?

  I’m the quiet girl of our boss-babe squad. I have no idea how I’m supposed to navigate this situation.

  I sigh and run my hand through my long, auburn hair.

  This could be a really rewarding collaboration for G&G, not only in terms of money, but in terms of broadening our audience too. Motorcycle-riding, burger-slinging Franco is incredibly popular here in LA, with a different crowd than our brand typically attracts. This collab could broaden our online horizons like crazy. And now I’m in charge of making sure it goes without a hitch.

  Ugh.

  What happens if I mess everything up? It was totally by chance that we even got this opportunity in the first place. That kind of lightning doesn’t strike twice.

  Earlier this year, Kali and her hunky boyfriend, Grayson, made social media shockwaves when they were spotted here at Franco’s Burgers on a clandestine date. Not that Grayson knew they were dating on the down-low, of course. Kali had been so thrilled to meet a handsome guy who had no idea she was an internet phenomenon that she’d brought him here in an attempt to keep their budding relationship a secret. It didn’t quite turn out the way she’d expected, and now Franco’s Burgers had been launched to internet fame as well.

  Naturally, that thrilled the restauranteur. Ever since, Franco has been reposting some of our content in between photos of his red-hot motorcycles and loaded chili fries.

  Eventually, he reached out to see if we would be open to cross-promoting one another. To that, we said, heck yes! Since then, I’ve been putting together an entire limited fashion line inspired by Franco’s laid-back, chill vibe. The clothing will be amazing—if I’m able to convince Franco that it’s exactly what his brand needs.

  I bite back a groan and reread the messages on my phone a dozen more times in the hopes that the texts might magically change. Even though I know I’ve brought my perfectly polished portfolio of designs and some handstitched samples, I’m feeling very, very unprepared for this.

  My phone buzzes once again between my quivering fingers, but my circumstances still haven’t changed.

  This is your time to shine, babe! says Sutton.

  Kali joins in by sending along a string of thumbs-up emojis.

  Sighing again, I slip the phone back into my faux-leather bucket-bag style purse. There’s no use staring at the disappointing screen a second longer. Because the more I look at it, the more nervous I’m going to get.

  I seriously can’t believe my girls are bailing on me like this. I mean, I know that Kali is trapped in a business meeting and Sutton is surrounded by our adoring Glammers…but still!

  Sutton and Kali are the real G&G go-getters. I’m there to make sure that my besties are both dressed to the flawless nines and to occasionally get roped into various shoots when there’s absolutely no other option, but that’s abo
ut as far as my front-page action goes. The Glammers are obsessed with Kali and Sutton, and the two new sexy men in their lives, and that means I’ve had almost zero pressure to show up on the feed lately. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t nice to safely hide in the background for a while.

  Even when we were still freshmen in college who could only fantasize about what G&G could turn into one day, my goals were never as vibrant as theirs. Kali and Sutton yearned to be famous from day one. They wanted everyone in the world to know their names. And while I truly wanted that for both of them, I simply dreamed of spending time with my two best friends and developing my skills as a fashion designer. I’ve never been good under the spotlight—even if I sometimes wish that I was as naturally outgoing and uninhibited as they are. I wonder what life might be like if I enjoyed the limelight a little more. At least to my sweet, fuzzy, lop-eared rabbit, Chanel, I’m the center of the world.

  That’s enough for me.

  Thinking of my cute little bunny makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. That is, until the doors of the kitchen finally swing open.

  I muffle a nervous yelp and curl my hands into tight fists in my lap.

  This is it—

  Wait! What?

  I blink.

  Now hold on just a second.

  A tall, broad-shouldered man strides over to my table and eases down into the booth across from me, but he’s definitely not Franco. Nope, this guy is much younger. In his twenties, he’s only a little older than me. And Lord have mercy, his muscular arms are covered in tattoos. My eyes go wide as I take in the quality ink on his perfectly muscled forearms. I have to physically remind myself to shut my jaw because it’s hanging open—literally. Between the tats and the stylishly mussed chestnut hair hanging into emerald eyes, he’s a bad-boy dreamboat.

  All of a sudden, I can’t even remember my own name. The only thing blazed into my mind is that piercing green gaze of his.

  My whole head feels fuzzy and scrambled. It’s the exact same feeling I get every time Kali or Sutton try to put me in front of the camera during one of our videos.

  This is for business, Liv! I chastise myself when I start ogling his tattoos again. Looking at this guy is definitely a pleasure.

  I’m not sure why I’m reacting like this to a guy who probably wouldn’t look twice at a shy girl like me. Plus, it’s not like I’d even want to date right now if he was interested. With G&G continuing to thrive, the brand needs all my attention. I have to keep a careful log of all the backdrops we use for shoots, as well as what outfits Kali and Sutton wear, to make sure that our content doesn’t get visually repetitive—and that’s when I’m not hunched over my designs or sewing machine. I’ve got a full workload in my lap and I don’t need a guy to distract me—even a super hunky one.

  “I…” I start, choking on the single word and then forgetting what else I was going to say.

  Oh, right. I was going to tell him that he must have the wrong table. But he’s regarding me with gorgeous green eyes that are definitely going to haunt my dreams for days, and I can’t seem to do anything but sit here and stare at his chiseled jaw with its perfect amount of scruff.

  He lifts one dark brow and tilts his head to the side. When he does, I can see a tattoo on his chiseled pec peeking out from the neckline of his tee. The sight makes my head spin. I don’t go lusting after random men, but I’d ride this bad boy’s motorcycle any day.

  “The name is Cash,” he says as he sticks out his hand.

  His voice is deep and husky, like an engine revving.

  It’s mortifying just how long it takes for me to realize that he wants me to shake his hand instead of gaping at every long, tapered digit extending from his roughened palm. I finally grab clumsily at his hand, managing to at least suppress a sigh of pleasure when his fingers, surely coarse from hours spent gripping motorcycle handlebars, close over mine.

  “I’m Liv,” I whisper, finding myself unable to speak any louder than that. “And I think you might have the wrong table.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  To my surprise, the tattooed Adonis chuckles when I suggest he’s at the wrong booth. Cash has such a gruff and rugged exterior that I’d been anticipating him to roll those green eyes or scowl rather than let out an amused laugh.

  Cash leans back, arms folding over his rock-hard chest, mouth quirking.

  I blink hard, trying to sear the image into my mind so I can drool over him later. Cash was swoonworthily gorgeous while straight-faced, but with a hint of a crooked smile on his handsome features, he’s downright extraordinary. I might not be interested in jumping into the dating pool—and he probably isn’t either, at least, not with me—but I don’t want to ever forget how close I was to the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life. I had no idea guys could be this outrageously good looking before today.

  “You’re one of the G&G chicks, aren’t you?” he asks.

  As he speaks, he pulls out a small pad of paper and a pen from the back pocket of his jeans and sets them on the table.

  I clear my throat, which suddenly feels like a frog has taken up residence in it. “Um, yes.”

  His green eyes briefly blaze back into mine. A hint of a smile continues quirking the corner of his mouth. “Then I’m at the right table. I thought there were supposed to be three of you girls, though?”

  “Sutton and Kali are busy with some other stuff in LA, so they’re not going to be able to make it,” I explain, fiddling my thumbs nervously in my lap in an attempt to stop myself from squirming. My sandaled feet tap on the ground like they’re trying to run off and leave me behind.

  His faint smile twists into a frown and my heart plunges right along with his expression.

  Oh, no. I’ve gone and said something dumb, haven’t I?

  “This is supposed to be your first business meeting with my father and two-thirds of your company couldn’t be bothered to come?” he remarks coolly. “That isn’t very professional, is it?”

  An internal wail of terror quakes through my whole body. My back goes rigid, and beneath the table, my fingers clutch hard at the hem of my sunny yellow skirt. Kali would be able to expertly dodge his comment while Sutton would almost certainly have some funny quip to distract from it. I, on the other hand, am frozen in sheer terror.

  To my complete shock, Cash laughs softly again. A second later, his frown relaxes back into a devastating grin.

  “I’m just teasing you, Liv,” he says. “Sorry about that. I guess I’m not as funny as I thought.”

  “You were joking?” I whimper.

  Using his pen to gesture at the bustling restaurant around us, he shrugs his broad shoulders. “In case you haven’t noticed, Franco isn’t exactly huge on professionalism. He thinks it’s too straitlaced and boring. I mean, this restaurant doesn’t even have a real floor. It’s beach sand.”

  Despite what Cash is saying, I can’t seem to relax. My mind is running a thousand miles an hour and it stubbornly refuses to slow down. This whole mess has my fight-or-flight instinct going haywire and it won’t let me chill out. If I’m not careful, I think I might just hyperventilate.

  Thankfully, Cash is content to keep talking while I try to convince my heart rate to calm down.

  “Anyway, I’m Franco’s son. He’s pretty busy these days, thanks to the publicity your girl group brought him, so unfortunately, he doesn’t have time to sit and talk with you.” He pauses to glance down at the pad and paper he’d brought out and flips through a few of the pages, where I assume Franco has jotted down some things for him to discuss. “Now, I guess you guys are going to do some sort of fashion line or something?” he asks, sounding skeptical. “How exactly does someone make a fashion line based on a burger place?”

  Silence creeps across the table as I stare helplessly at Cash. I want to answer him, but my tongue feels so heavy behind my teeth that I’m not sure I can say a single word.

  He waits patiently while I try to collect myself, but the more desperately I try to arrange my thoug
hts into verbal speech, the more frazzled I become. If I was a cartoon character, I would have steam pouring out of my ears, the gears in my head are grinding so hard.

  “Um, well,” I sputter when he casts a look at the doors of the kitchen. I can hear talking and laughter as the cooks do their thing in there. I know Cash must be tired of dealing with me. I can feel it. He’s merely waiting to escape this tedious conversation so he can go back to Franco and tell his father that the business deal is off because I’m not capable of carrying it out correctly. “The fashion line is like, you know, a vibe.”

  “A vibe?” he echoes blankly. “What vibe?”

  I shift on the seat under his curious gaze. Thankfully, this time the plastic doesn’t squeak.

  “As I’m sure you know, Franco’s has a vibe. And the clothes, um, also have a vibe.”

  I cut myself off with a grimace, giving up on floundering for words. Could I sound any less intelligent? Or business-like?

  I’m going nowhere fast, except leading the collab deal down the drain. Instead of saying anything further, I grab the leather-bound folder sitting beside me in the booth. I’d completely forgotten about my portfolio until now, and I know I need to let it do the talking because I am seriously falling short.

  I set the folder on the table and push it toward Cash.

  He opens it and begins to slowly flip through designs that I’d spent hours drawing, as well as a few of the samples I’d stitched. For the actual collaboration, a local boutique has offered to produce the limited line for us so that I don’t have to sew every single piece. But for this meeting, I needed every article of clothing to be perfect. I’ve included a pair of women’s shorts that are perfectly distressed and a flattering shade of dark blue, complete with patches on the back pockets with Franco’s logo. I’ve also crafted a vintage-cut men’s tee that actually goes quite well with the jeans Cash is already wearing. He has the same kind of style that I’m going for with this clothing line. That makes me pretty proud, even though I can’t bring myself to say as much. The whole line will be laid-back and chill with garments that anyone can rock on the beach or in the burger shack.