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“Yeah, I didn’t read it,” he tells me over the sound of feet pounding the treadmill. “Just saw it come in. What’s happening?”
This is embarrassing.
At least by typing it, I didn’t have to face his reaction when he hears how hopeless I am.
“It’s just… I don’t know if I can do this.” I press my face against the pillow again, muffling my voice. “I’m at Nana’s and she’s asking me all sorts of questions I can’t answer. I barely know anything about you.”
“I see.” The sound in the background stops. “You with her now?”
“I’m in the guest room.” I roll on my back again, this time looking at my reflection in the window. My face looks blurred, the colors muted. Despite that, the face staring back at me seems prettier than my own. “Look, I know we had a deal and you’re paying crazy good money, but how can I make your man believe we’re madly in love if I can’t even persuade my own grandmother?”
“Miss Winkley, breathe.”
“Juniper,” I throw back. “We’re definitely sunk if you keep talking like I’m your secretary.”
“Juniper.” The way he says it shocks me to my core.
Like a slow rolling thunderstorm growling its presence into my bones.
“Easy for you to say,” I snap. “Yourfamily isn’t involved in this.”
“Thank fuck they’re not,” he says calmly, “I understand your frustration, though. Haute will be easier to convince than your Nana, I promise you. He’ll barely care what you say as long as he’s stuffing his face.”
“That doesn’t help the fact that I’m stuck here and she’s asking for your life story. Next thing you know, she’ll ask when we’re going to have that dinner, and—”
“So set it up. Soon.” There’s another pause, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter. “How about the weekend? That gives us time to meet and get our facts straight.”
“This weekend?” I press the heel of my hand against my eyes.
“Unless you’re busy.” There’s an inflection to his voice that suggests he thinks I’m not. Like I have the luxury of ever taking weekends off.
I’m sure I can make time, though. I have a hundred thousand good reasons in the bank to take one measly day off.
“I’ll check my calendar,” I say.
“This Wednesday, can you do seven o’clock after work?”
The store closes at six, but I can always put Emmy and Jake on closing duty. I pinch my nose.
“Okay. Your place?”
“My office in Lee’s Summit. This is business, after all,” he says too quickly. “And Juniper? Don’t be late.”
“Don’t be a complete prick,” I throw back.
To my surprise, he laughs.
Again, my bones vibrate.
Every sound this man makes is a force of nature. For a searing second, my mind flashes to his lips, working against my ear from behind as he flattens me against that perfect kitchen counter in his palace, all hot breath and filthy promises, so ready to—
“Deal. If you’re late, all bets are off,” he tells me.
“I’m going to hold you to your end. Benice,” I warn before the call ends, flopping down again and picking at my hair.
I have some time before I need to panic over Wednesday. Then, if I can hold it together, we’ll figure out the mechanics of lying spectacularly to everyone important in our lives.
God, how sick am I to go along with this?
