The Hookup Handbook

by Kendall Ryan

  A part-time office employee for a male escort agency walks into a bar.

  It sounds like the introduction to a joke Ryder would tell at a family party after one too many cocktails. But there’s no punch line to this setup. It’s just another day in my post-grad life, and for the first time all week, I’m owning it.

  Squinting in the dim bar lighting, I spot Allison’s jet-black hair at a back corner table. She already has a gin and tonic at the ready for my arrival, her own glass half-empty. Or is it half-full?

  If you asked me on Monday when I was desperately trying to keep from being knocked over by Case’s laser stare, I definitely would have said half-empty. But today, after a full day of running things by myself while keeping Case’s sick ass in check, I might have a different answer. Tonight, as my heels click across the floor, I don’t wobble—I strut.

  “Well, look what corporate America dragged in.” Allison clucks her tongue in approval as she does a once-over of my outfit.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I say, sliding into the empty seat across from her. “It was a crazy day.”

  “You’re working at a male escort agency,” she says, as if I need reminding. “I’m guessing crazy doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

  We clink our glasses together and I take my first sip, the ice cubes knocking against the glass.

  “So, week one is done. What’s the review of the new job?” Allison pushes her bangs out of her eyes as she leans in, propping her elbows on the table. She’s already wide-eyed with interest, and I haven’t given her a single detail.

  “I wish I had juicier gossip for you, but it’s not that different from any other job,” I say. “But I actually kind of like it. I thought it would be ultra-sexual and uncomfortable all the time, but it’s really not that weird.”

  Allison lowers her chin and raises her eyebrows at me. She’s clearly not buying it.

  “All right, fine. Some of it’s kind of weird. But not really in a bad way. A lot of my work revolves around this sex book that Case is on a deadline to write. I guess it is kind of bizarre to be reading through my boss’s orgasm secrets.”

  Allison scrunches her nose. “Case is the guy from your email, right? The major asshole running the show?”

  I shrug, drawing lazy swirls in the condensation on the side of my glass. “I think he must just give bad first impressions. He’s really not that bad. Actually, he’s kinda sweet when he isn’t pretending to be made of stone.” I’m a little surprised by how easily the compliment rolls off my tongue. A few sips of gin and tonic, and suddenly I’m loose enough to start spilling. “Like today, he was super sick, and so I took him up to his bedroom—”

  Allison’s percussive gasp cuts me off mid-sentence. “A male escort took you up to his bedroom? Are you kidding me?”

  “It’s not like that. The office is on the first floor of his house, and he was too sick to be working. So I brought him upstairs and sat on his bed with him, and—”

  Allison holds up a hand like a traffic cop, cutting me off again. “I don’t care if this man was knocking on death’s door. You went up to your boss’s bedroom with him. Your boss who literally fucks for a living. There’s no way he takes all his other employees up there.”

  “All his other employees are also male escorts,” I remind her, rolling my eyes.

  “I’m just saying. It sounds like he could be the solution to your problem.”

  I frown at her as I take another swig of my drink. “What problem?”

  “Your summer-fling problem, duh.”

  An airy laugh escapes the back of my throat, but Allison doesn’t laugh along.

  Oh my God, is she making a serious suggestion?

  She looks at me expectantly, stirring what’s left of her gin and tonic. I laugh again, this time more nervously.

  “Allison, no. That is definitely not happening.”

  “Why not? You said he was sweet, and he literally has made a career out of getting women off. Can you even imagine how good that sex would be? Good enough that the guy got signed on to write a damn book about it.”

  Allison leans back in her chair and folds her arms across her chest, waiting for my rebuttal to her argument. She may have made some good points, but there’s one teeny, tiny problem.

  “You heard me say that he’s my boss, right? He’s strictly off-limits.”

  “So? It’s not like this is your permanent job. After this summer, he won’t even be your boss anymore. But sex like that? You’ll remember that for a lifetime.”

  After I shut her down a few more times, Allison eventually drops the topic, and the conversation moves on to other things. But as we finish our drinks and hug good-bye, she can’t resist bringing it up one last time.

  “Just think about what I said, okay?” she says, squeezing my arm before heading to her car.

  But she doesn’t have to ask me twice. I haven’t been able to shake the thought all night. The whole drive back to the apartment is dedicated to trying to dismiss the thought as even an option.

  A summer fling with my boss is the definition of a recipe for disaster. So, why does the thought make my inner thighs twitch with excitement? I know he knows what he’s doing. I’ve been reading about it all week.

  Back at the apartment, I’m greeted by Ryder’s soft snoring, paired with the low rumbling chatter of an infomercial. The back-to-back appointments almost every day this week must have caught up to him. Seeing him with the remote in hand and splayed across the couch with his mouth wide open, I have to resist the urge to take a picture for potential blackmail purposes. Since he let me move in, I’ll spare him this time.

  I slip off my shoes, carrying them by the heels as I pad across the hardwood on tiptoe. If Ryder wakes up, I’ll have to face the “how was your day” conversation. Oh, it was fine. I just sat on the boss’s bed and played nurse for him all day.

  Ryder would be beyond pissed. I think. Or he wouldn’t think anything of it. Maybe Allison’s crazy suggestion just has me reading into everything too much. Luckily for me, I can head to bed without finding out. For tonight, I’ll let sleeping dogs lie. Or sleeping brothers, in this case.

  Once my teeth are brushed and my face is scrubbed, I slide on a pair of pajama shorts and then go straight to bed after making a quick pit stop to grab my phone out of my purse on the way. As luck would have it, I have a notification—a text from Case.

  What is he doing texting me this late? If he’s half as sick as he was earlier, he should be sound asleep.

  Pulling my comforter up to my nose, I take a deep breath and open the text.

  Hey, you have an interview at the ballet studio I told you about the other day. Monday morning.

  I do a double, maybe even a triple take. Is this for real?

  Jolting up, I press on Case’s contact, then hold the phone to my ear. We’re not talking about this tomorrow; we’re talking about this right now.

  There’s barely half a ring before he picks up. “Kind of late for you to be calling me, Ms. Johnson. Did you forget how sick I am?”

  “You’re the one who texted me.” I’m moderately annoyed by his sass, but I don’t have time to be annoyed right now. I need details, stat. “Care to explain what that text is supposed to mean?” I ask, trying to stay quiet enough not to wake Ryder.

  “What is there to explain? You have an interview at the dance studio. They’re looking to fill a teaching position for their preschool ballet classes, and you fit the bill. I told you, I know the owner very well.”

  I try to suppress a shudder. “Did you . . . is she a client?”

  Case snickers. “No, not a client. Just an old family friend. We had a phone call to discuss my contribution for the year, and I put in a good word for you. I didn’t know they were hiring, but one thing led to another, and I told her you’d be a good fit. She’s expecting you at nine on Monday morning.”

  A tight knot forms in my stomach. “Damn it. I can’t. Maybe you forgot, but I have another job that is expecting me at nine
on Monday morning.”

  “Maybe you forgot, but I’m your boss, and I say you have the morning off.”

  Something about his tone brings back that twitch in my inner thighs again. Goddamn it.

  He follows his domineering comment with a much softer one. “It’s a job I think you’d actually like. I wouldn’t let you miss this for the world, Sienna.”

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  “Just okay?” There’s disappointment in his tone that I’ve never heard before.

  I know that he wants me to be excited, but am I supposed to act like this special treatment is normal? I let out a long breath, my thighs relaxing. I’m too tired to argue with him about it right now.

  “More than okay. This is incredible. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. I’ll see you Monday after your interview. Now, let me go to sleep. My nurse today told me to get lots of rest and only worry about getting better.”

  “Oh. Well, feel better then.”

  I swear I can hear his smug smile through the phone. “Good night, Sienna.”

  “Good night, Case.”

  I wait for him to hang up before tucking my phone away in my nightstand drawer, eliminating the temptation to text him.

  I don’t know what’s harder for me to believe—that I just had a midnight phone call in bed with my boss, or that I just landed an interview to teach ballet. All of it feels so surreal.

  Part of me wants to turn down the opportunity, to refuse this special treatment, but working at a ballet studio would make all my childhood dreams come true. And it would solve the issue of figuring out what I’m doing with my life, because teaching ballet sounds a million times better than grad school.

  I switch off the light and lie back down in bed, hoping a good night’s sleep will give me a few more answers.

  Maybe Allison is right. Maybe, in more ways than one, Case is the solution to my problem.

  Chapter Seven

  Case

  I drop the dumbbells on the floor, my biceps screaming as I finish the final rep of my arm workout.

  That flu that knocked me out a few days ago? Came and left in all of twenty-four hours. That’s why I’m back in the gym first thing Monday morning, even though I still feel a little weak. I’ve got to get my body back in prime condition. Rippling abs and bulging pecs are a given with the job description. So is a rock-hard dick, but I still haven’t figured out how to fix that one.

  Well, maybe I do have one idea. But banging Ryder’s little sister will only solve one problem and then give me a million others. Besides, Sienna has a mind of her own, and for as well as we’ve been getting along lately, I highly doubt sleeping with the boss is on one of her color-coded, alphabetized to-do lists.

  As I move to the treadmill to finish my workout with some cardio, I wonder how Sienna’s interview at the ballet studio is going. I was worried she’d think I overstepped when I arranged it for her, but she seemed genuinely excited. I have no doubt she’s qualified and will get the job if she wants it—if she can keep her quick tongue in check, that is. I’ll never forget the way she mouthed off to me on her first day on the job, though now I can look back on it and just smile and shake my head. It hasn’t been that long, only a week, but it feels like we’ve come a long way since then.

  After I finish my workout, I shower, then quickly dress in jeans and a white T-shirt. As I walk into my office, I find Ryder standing at my desk, and he looks pissed. Hands on his hips, nostrils flared. I haven’t seen him like this in a long time. What the hell?

  I panic for a second, worried that he’s somehow read my mind and knows the dirty thoughts I’ve had about his sister. “Hey, man, what’s going on?”

  He quickly turns at the sound of my voice, the stubble along his jawline only making him look more unhinged. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he hasn’t been sleeping well. Which is surprising, given how chill and relaxed he normally is.

  “We need to talk,” he says, his voice low and measured.

  “Sure, have a seat.”

  He sits down across from me, and I lower myself into my chair, watching his face for any hint of what’s bothering him. Luckily, I don’t have to wait long to find out.

  “I need a break, man. You’ve got to give me a few days off.”

  “What are you talking about? You’re booked through next weekend, and with some of our highest-paying clients.”

  “Exactly my problem. I’ve been booked solid for the past two weeks. Sure, I love sex as much as the next guy, but it’s starting to feel like I’m being punished or something.”

  “Is this your roundabout way of requesting to be moved into some BDSM work?” I ask, arching a playful brow.

  Ryder’s face darkens. “I’m serious, Case. I’m fucking done with this shit. I know things have gotten tighter since Nic left, but I’m starting to think I’m the only one doing any real work around here.”

  I guess my absence entertaining clients hasn’t been as inconspicuous as I hoped. Still, I can’t let him know that he’s rattled me. “You’re fucking with me, right? You don’t think I’m doing real work?”

  “You have Sienna to help you now, so I don’t know how the business side of things could be keeping you so busy. Besides, I can’t remember the last time you took a client out. I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but I’m done being the only one picking up the slack. No one else has more than four clients a week. I’m pulling doubles some days.”

  Shit. Clearly, I didn’t give Ryder enough credit for paying attention. Still, there’s no way I want to tell him what’s really going on.

  “It’s this book, man. You know I’ve got a deadline coming up.”

  “Oh, so you’re telling me that you’re spending every waking moment on this book, and you can’t take even one night off to wine and dine the clients who specifically request you by name?”

  I sigh, scrubbing my hands through my hair. Fuck it. “Look, you want to know the truth?”

  “Enlighten me.”

  “The past few times I took clients out, I had some trouble.”

  “Like crazy-bitches-trying-to-follow-you-home trouble?” His mouth tilts into a smile.

  If only.

  “No, nothing like that.” I take a deep breath, pausing for a second. “Trouble . . . in bed.”

  Ryder’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, his eyes wide with shock. “Fuck, man, that’s—I can’t imagine. You’re only twenty-nine, and your career’s over already?”

  “My dick’s not broken, asshole. I can still get hard. It’s just a little more selective than it used to be.”

  “Too selective even for our hottest clients?”

  “Even for them.”

  “Fuck. That’s, like, my worst nightmare.” His eyes are still wide as he spaces out, trying to imagine it, and I swear to fuck he shivers in fear.

  “Thanks, man, I really appreciate your support.” I narrow my eyes at him.

  “But you’ll be fine. You’ll, uh, you’ll figure something out. And hey, don’t worry about that time off. Just the thought of my dick not operating properly makes me want to use the shit out of it while I still can.”

  “Well, I appreciate you taking one for the team. Also, this goes without saying, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this.”

  Ryder nods solemnly, clapping a hand on the side of my arm before bowing his head and turning to walk out of my office, clearly shaken by what I told him. But as he goes to leave, we realize at the same time that Sienna, looking absolutely beautiful, is standing in the doorway with a stack of paperwork in her hands, with a surprised expression on her face

  Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

  She forces a smile, clearing her throat as she steps around her brother, furrowing her brow at the strange looks we both must be giving her. “Sorry to interrupt. I don’t know what’s going on with you two, but I’m just here to work. I wasn’t listening in or anything.”

  Ryder shrugs, giving me
one last supportive look before leaving.

  Sienna sits at her desk and wordlessly begins typing, but I continue to watch her, searching her face for a hint that she heard any part of that conversation. But she doesn’t give me anything. Not a smirk, not a giggle, nothing.

  So I breathe easy as I turn back to my computer, ready to put the whole humiliating confession behind me. Then Sienna breaks the silence.

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t hear anything impotent—I mean, important.”

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  I suppress a groan, swiveling in my chair to face her with a mock-stern look on my face. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, I’ve been a little hard of hearing lately.”

  I shake my head, but Sienna keeps going, clearly amusing herself.

  “Also, I’ve been meaning to ask—how stiff are the penalties when one of the guys is late to an appointment?”

  “Okay, come on . . . That’s just mean.”

  My manhood not cooperating is bad enough—but a gorgeous woman poking fun at it is almost more than I can take.

  “Wait, wait, I have one more. You don’t want them to think you’re going soft on them.”

  We both burst out laughing, and I grab the nearest pen I can find to throw at her.

  “Hey!” She squeals, throwing up her hands to block her face as the pen bounces off her arm.

  “Had to make it a fair fight. Brat.” I shrug, a smile lingering on my face. “Anyway, how was your interview?”

  “Way to change the subject.” She smiles, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “Honestly? It was amazing. They offered me the job on the spot, and obviously, I accepted. I’ll be teaching ballet to three- and four-year-olds on Tuesday and Thursday evenings. It’s seriously such a dream come true.”

  Her face lights up as she talks about her new job, her blue eyes shining brighter, her animated gestures making her golden hair shimmer and sway. She’s always beautiful, but when she talks about what she loves, she’s fucking radiant.

  Seeing that kind of drive and passion in a woman? It’s one of the sexiest things I’ve seen in a long time. And I’ve got the twinge behind my zipper to prove it.