by JA Huss
Contents
The Boyfriend Experience
DESCRIPTION
CHAPTER ONE - JORDAN
CHAPTER TWO - LAWTON
CHAPTER THREE - OAKLEE
CHAPTER FOUR - LAWTON
CHAPTER FIVE - OAKLEE
CHAPTER SIX - LAWTON
CHAPTER SEVEN - OAKLEE
CHAPTER EIGHT - LAWTON
CHAPTER NINE - OAKLEE
CHAPTER TEN - LAWTON
CHAPTER ELEVEN - OAKLEE
CHAPTER TWLEVE - LAWTON
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - OAKLEE
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - LAWTON
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - OAKLEE
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - LAWTON
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - OAKLEE
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - LAWTON
CHAPTER NINETEEN - OAKLEE
CHAPTER TWENTY - LAWTON
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - OAKLEE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - LAWTON
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - OAKLEE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - LAWTON
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE - OAKLEE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX - LAWTON
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN - OAKLEE
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT - LAWTON
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE - OAKLEE
CHAPTER THIRTY - LAWTON
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - OAKLEE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO - LAWTON
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE - JORDAN
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR - OAKLEE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - LAWTON
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX - OAKLEE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN - LAWTON
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT - OAKLEE
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE - LAWTON
CHAPTER FORTY - OAKLEE
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE - LAWTON
EPILOGUE - JORDAN
END OF BOOK SHIT
About the Author
Edited by RJ Locksley
Cover Design: JA Huss
Copyright © 2018 by J. A. Huss
All rights reserved.
ISBN-978-1-944475-53-6
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
DESCRIPTION
From NYT Bestselling Author, JA Huss, comes a new sexy standalone in the Jordan's Game series.
I NEED A BOYFRIEND… and I need one now…
WANTED
One bad-ass man with boyfriend experience.
Must be willing to fight dirty and work weekends, nights, and overtime.
Bad attitude a must. Bonus points if you’re hot, athletic, and sporting tattoos.
When I asked Jordan Wells for a Boyfriend Experience game I didn’t expect to get stuck with billionaire real-estate agent, Lawton Ayers. He doesn’t exactly fit the job description.
WANTED
One professional woman with business experience.
Must be willing to build a future together.
Successful entrepreneur a must. Bonus points if you’re a crazy local legend.
When Jordan Wells offered up Oaklee Ryan a last-minute business partner to seal a deal I’ve been working on for years, I didn’t expect beautiful, sexy, and multi-orgasmic to be on her list of qualifications. But that’s what I got. And she’s perfect just the way she is.
Too bad she doesn’t want me to be HER boyfriend. Because she bought me for someone else…
CHAPTER ONE - JORDAN
Lawton Ayers is dressed for success. He’s got the suit, the tie, the watch, the shoes, the haircut, the cufflinks, and the pair of designer shades. We’re sitting outside today. It’s officially spring, so the Tea Room owner, Chella Baldwin, has outdoor seating. It’s really just a small area separated from the sidewalk by yellow velvet ropes hanging off black poles, and there are only half a dozen tables, but it’s nice. Really fuckin’ nice.
“So what do you think I should do?” Law asks.
“About?”
“The fucking TV show I’ve been telling you about for the last ten minutes!”
“I mean, what do you want me to say, Law? It’s pretty much in the bag, if you ask me. You’re what TV people look for, right? Young, good-looking, professional, wealthy.”
“Yeah, but there are a lot of guys who fit that demographic.”
I side-eye him for using the word ‘demographic’ to describe himself. He’s way too focused on all the wrong things if you ask me. “Just be you, man. You’re a fucking salesman. And you’re not even selling them a house. You’re selling them you selling other people houses.”
He stares at me for a second. Tilts his head a little. “Home TV made a name for itself by selling people, so you’re right there.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Nothing to worry about.”
“But,” he continues, “all those other shows have couples, ya know? Like, teams. I don’t have a team. I just have me.”
“You’ve got a team. Get your partner in on it. They’d love Zack. That guy is fucking hilarious. People would tune in just to watch him talk shit to you.”
“No,” he says. “Zack said no way was he going on TV. Says just thinking about it makes him itch. He’s flat-out refused to be a part of it. Which is why I had to start a whole new company. Rocky Mountain Millionaires. That’s what I’m calling the show, too. I need…”
He hesitates.
“What? You need what?”
“I need,” he says, leaning across the table like he doesn’t want anyone to hear him, “I need an edge. I need these Home TV people to see me as one of them. I need… a girlfriend.”
I sit back in my chair, smiling.
“It’s not fucking funny,” he says.
“I said nothing.”
“You’re thinking it. You’re thinking, Oh, the great Lawton Ayers has finally come to his senses. He needs a girlfriend. And how many times have you tried to fix me up—”
“And you said no,” I finish for him.
“And now he’s here, begging me for help.”
I hold my hands out, like… I called it. “So you want me to find you a girlfriend?”
“A pretend one,” he adds quickly. “A prop. For appearances only. Someone who could show up for this pitch next week and wow them.”
“A looker?”
“Yup. She’s gotta be pretty.”
“A businesswoman?” I add.
“That would be helpful. One in real estate would be perfect, except—”
“Except you’ve already done the dirty and disappeared afterward with all those ladies.”
He sighs. “I’ve asked everyone. Every girl I know in the business.”
“Did they dump a drink in your lap? Or slap you in the face?”
He shrugs. “Both.”
“So,” I say, feeling smug and not trying to hide it. “My warnings were right.” I lean forward and point at him. “I told you to stop fucking around last year, but did you listen?”
“I don’t need the lecture, OK? I just need help. I want this deal. No… I need this deal. I’m bored, Jordan. Fucking bored of this shit and I’m not even thirty years old yet. I can’t just sell real estate for the rest of my life. It’s depressing to even think about it. I need more. I want this show. We’re in the final stages of negotiation. I’m this far away,” he says, holding his thumb and forefinger about half an inch apart, “from getting what I want. I just gotta close.”
“And then what? What if you do get the deal and they like her? What then?”
“I give her a cut. She shows up when I need her and disappears when I don’t. I won’t screw her over. This is business.”
I pause for a moment. To make him think I m
ight say no. Of course, I’d never say no to a game. Especially when it involves one of my best friends. But this game is a little tricky, so I gotta tread carefully.
And the truth is… I accepted his invite for coffee at the Tea Room this afternoon because I was gonna ask him for a favor. It’s like the stars have aligned.
“I have a game,” I say. “In play. Well, about to be. And a girl. The perfect girl for your little business venture.”
“Who?” he asks.
But this is where it gets tricky. Oaklee Ryan is a handful. I’ve already given her profile to six other men and they’ve politely backed away. She’s beautiful, so it’s not her looks. And she’s successful, so it’s not her drive.
But her personality is… well, she’s what I like to call unpredictable. Or crazy, if I’m being honest. She’s fuckin’ crazy.
But I only have one more day to get this game started or she gets a refund. And she paid seventy grand for a twenty-four-seven two-week stint. Seventy grand of liquid cash that I already have plans for. That I need. In fact, I need Lawton for that as well. I need both of them on board to get what I want.
So maybe I can get two games and the money all done in one deal?
“If I help you, I need a favor in return.”
“Shoot,” Law says.
“You know the Club?”
“Turning Point? What about it?”
“I need you to find out who bought it.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s been sitting empty for more than a year now and… and… well, what the fuck is going on over there?”
“Why do you care?”
“I just do. Can you find out?”
“Probably.” Law shrugs. “Shouldn’t be too hard. It’s all public record.”
“I know, but it’s just a shell company. I need you to find out.”
“Shouldn’t your guy be doing this?”
“I don’t want this inquiry to be traced back to me. So I need you to do it.”
“You thinking about buying it?”
I am thinking about buying it. But that’s a conversation for another day because there’s a lot of baggage that comes packed with that admission and I don’t feel like talking about it yet. So I just shrug and change the subject back to him. “You ever go to that brewhouse over on Wynkoop?”
He laughs. “Which fucking one? There’s like a million of them down there now.”
“The one with the water tower.”
“The old grocer building? Red brick, five stories tall. I live right behind that fucker. Can see that water tower from my patio. What’s that place called again?”
“Bronco Brews.”
“Right. How’d they ever get away with that name, anyway? You’d think the Broncos would be all up in their shit.”
“They were, but that place has been called Bronco Brews for almost seventy-five years. So they won. I know the owner. They hired our firm for that lawsuit about ten years ago, but then the old man died and his daughter took over. Oaklee Ryan is her name. And it just so happens she called me up last month looking for a game called…”
He waits for it.
“The Boyfriend Experience.”
He smiles. Which is cute. And good luck. Because this smile means he’s obviously never met Oaklee Ryan. “So what I’m hearing is…”
“You be her boyfriend, she’ll be your girlfriend, everybody’s happy.”
He’s nodding his head enthusiastically, but then he frowns. “Wait. Oaklee Ryan. Why does that name sound familiar?”
“No clue,” I lie.
He snaps his fingers. “Oh, yeah. I remember now. She started some protest a couple years ago trying to have all the old mansions declared historical buildings so they couldn’t be sold off to developers. She cost me a major deal—”
“But all that’s in the past,” I say, trying to smooth things over. “She’s not into that hippie shit anymore. In fact, she renovated her brewhouse last year and she got a crash course on property values since then. She’s not who she was.”
“Then why have you been holding onto this game for a month?”
He’s quick, I’ll give him that. Lawton Ayers didn’t become one of Denver’s most successful luxury real-estate agents because he’s slow. “I’ve been looking for the right guy. She’s picky. In fact, she might not like you, so I’ll have to run this by her first.”
He looks offended. Which is also cute. “What’s not to like about me? I’m fuckin’ perfect pretend boyfriend material.”
“That you are, Law. That you are. I’m sure she’ll love you. So you’re in? You can handle the boyfriend experience?”
“That’s like… what? Dinner and dates and shit like that?”
“Exactly,” I say.
“OK, but makes sure she knows what I need in return. I need polish. I need personality. I need a partner who will go in there on my arm and those people look at us and say, ‘Now that’s a Home TV couple!’ And that meeting is next week, so get this deal done today.”
With that he slaps the table, stands up, buttons his suit coat, and drops down a twenty. “Call me,” he says over his shoulder as he leaves. “Tonight.”
Oaklee Ryan isn’t so easy.
“Who?” she says, her face buried in her computer screen. We’re in her office on the top floor of the Bronco Brews building in Lower Downtown. I can see the mountains, the Pepsi Center, Union Station, and Coors Field as I pivot my head and look out her floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Lawton Ayers. He’s a real-estate agent. Not just any real-estate agent, either. He’s like… top fuckin’ notch, ya know? He’s the perfect pretend boyfriend for you.”
She pulls back from her computer, slides her glasses down her nose to peer over them. At me. Practically glaring. “Real estate?”
“He’s fine.”
“I don’t need fine. I need great.”
“He’s better than great, Oaklee. He’s rich as fuck. Sexy as fuck. Intelligent, fit—”
“How fit? Like huge biceps fit? Or lean fit?”
“Does it matter?”
“It does to me,” she says. “And I’m the one who paid you, so yes. It matters.”
“He’s…” I shrug. “I mean, he’s got a nice body. I’d fuck him.”
“I’m not asking about his sex appeal, Wells. I’m asking about his fitness level.”
I hate the way she always calls me Wells. It’s like she sneers it every single time. I haven’t been taking it personally because Oaklee sneers every word that comes out of her mouth. She’s practically dripping with cynicism.
But I’m starting to think she doesn’t like me.
“Why? You gonna make him your triathlon partner? You gonna make him ride a bull? Bike up Pikes Peak? Why the fuck do you need to know this?”
She smiles. She’s very pretty when she smiles. Her hair is long, blonde, and wild. Not curly, not straight—but large, round rolling waves that almost take on a life of their own when she moves. It’s like a metaphor for her, I realize. On the verge of something. Always on the verge of something.
I’ve seen her with it tied back and on those days she looks… tame. Like a dog on a leash or a lion in a cage. But today it’s loose, so she’s wild, I suppose.
She has no choice but to be wild. That’s just who she is. And that’s why every guy I’ve sent to her has given me a very firm no, thank you.
Her eyes are brown. Which isn’t something you see too often with blonde people. And not just any brown, but a very light brown. Her cheekbones are prominent but not sharp, but her chin is round and so is her nose. So it doesn’t make her look… handsome. No. She’s not handsome. Everything about her is pretty.
“Because I have a very specific image in mind and I’m paying for the fuckin’ game,” she says, answering my question.
Everything except her mouth, that is.
“I sent you an email. Can you at least look at it and see if he’s good enough? Because I gotta tell ya, Oaklee, he’s
your last chance.”
“What’s that mean? I paid you seventy—”
“I’ll give it back,” I say, holding up a hand. “I don’t want to,” I grumble to myself. “But I will. I’m not gonna cheat you, for fuck’s sake. I’m just… I wasn’t aware that you had a reputation around town.”
Her mouth drops open. She is aghast. “What?”
“For being bitchy, OK? That’s not me talking. I love you, Oaklee.” I pause to smile here. “You’re the best.” And I need your money, I don’t add. “But look, you’re one of those strong women, right?”
“Right,” she says, folding her arms across her chest, eyeing me with something close to contempt.
“You got money, you got a business, you’re very beautiful. You don’t need a man.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “I paid for a man.”
“I know, I know, I know!” I say, holding my hand up, pressing it forward into the air to enunciate each word. And then I sigh. And frown. And point to the email she didn’t open on her computer screen. “He’s your man. And if you don’t like him—well, Oaklee, I’m gonna have to give you your money back and call it a day. Because I’m out of men. And believe me, I want your money. I need it for something specific. But Lawton is my last guy, OK? So take him or leave him.”
She leans back in her chair, making it creak. Not looking defeated. Not at all. Just… resigned. We both stare out her office windows. It’s late afternoon and you can tell there’s rain coming soon because the sky is that slate-gray color of spring thunderheads.
“OK,” she says. No drama. No explanation. Just, “OK. When do we start?”
“He’s all yours,” I say, relieved, but keeping it out of my voice. “How about I have him stop by here for dinner tonight?”
She looks at me then, squinting. “He can pick me up from here. But I didn’t pay seventy thousand dollars for a pretend boyfriend just to be taken to dinner at my own brewhouse.”
“Of course,” I say. “He’ll pick you up and take you out.”
“OK,” Oaklee agrees. Then she turns her head a little as she smiles—like she’s trying to hide it from me—and says, “Deal.”
