Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73762 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Sure. Are we taking your car?”
“Yeah, I thought we could get up there first, get settled into our domestic-bliss mode for the weekend. Everyone else is coming later.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see if Kate can stay with Juno.”
Matt shrugs. “Bring her.”
“I can’t bring a dog to your bosses’ place in the Hamptons!”
“Why not? She’ll love the beach. She’s house-trained. And nothing says ‘settled down’ like a dog.”
“True.” The thought of a weekend getaway with Matt and Juno is admittedly appealing. “So, which version of ‘settled down’ are we going for this weekend? Same as we’ve been doing, acting delightfully smitten with each other? Or are we going for broke and selling it hard, dropping lots of ‘we’ as it relates to our future and talking about ring shopping?”
Matt’s wince is subtle. So subtle that if I hadn’t been watching for it, I might have missed it. But I was watching for it.
Given what I know, I was fully expecting words like future and ring shopping to be the thing to send a guy like Matt Cannon running for the hills.
What I’m not expecting is how much his flinch stings.
“Let’s see how it goes,” he says. “I’m guessing some hand-holding and pet names will be enough to convince everyone that I’ve given up my lap-dance ways.”
“Okay.” My tone is agreeable, but his eyes narrow on me slightly.
“You don’t agree?”
“I—” I bite my lip, knowing I need to tread carefully.
The truth is, something feels off. Jarod Lanham seems more interested in Matt and my relationship, as well as my skills as a potential matchmaker, than he does hiring Matt as his broker. Even more perplexing, Matt doesn’t seem to care nearly as much as he should, considering the opinion of people like Jarod is the reason Matt and I started this charade in the first place.
As for me . . . I do care. I care about all of this. A little too much.
He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “This whole thing has gotten rather fucked, hasn’t it?”
I laugh, not so much with mirth but with dismay that he seems to be reading my thoughts. “It’ll work out,” I say, smiling to help sell what feels like a lie.
If I can’t get my weird feelings and this strange sense of doom under control, it won’t work out at all.
He looks away without saying anything, and after a too-long silence, I touch his arm. “You want Jarod Lanham as a client, don’t you?”
He hesitates only a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”
“Then let’s play our part and get you your man.” I keep my voice light and start to turn away.
He grabs my wrist. “Sabrina, are you going with me because of the contract?”
“Are you asking me to go because of the contract?” I counter.
The door opens, and Kate’s head pops out. “Guys. I ate all the cheese, and they won’t let me have anything else until you join us. And I’m starving.”
“Be right there,” I say, dragging my gaze away from Matt’s.
I start to pull back, and his fingers tighten for a moment on my wrist before he slowly releases me.
As we go inside, I realize that neither of us answered the question.
Are we going to the Hamptons together because of the contract?
Or in spite of it?
25
MATT
Friday Afternoon, October 6
Well. Shit.
My weekend just got a hell of a lot more complicated.
Wordlessly, I hold out my phone to Sabrina so she can see the text message that’s just come through.
We’re standing in The Sams’ kitchen at their place in the Hamptons, sipping a glass of champagne to kick off what we’d expected to be a long weekend of make-believe in front of two bosses and a billionaire.
Instead, I’m bracing for Sabrina’s irritation as she silently reads the text.
She hands the phone back to me and takes a sip of champagne. “Well. I guess that means I don’t need to freak out about the fact that Juno’s already put her muddy paws all over the duvet in the master bedroom.”
“I can’t believe they canceled,” I say, still distracted by the message from Samantha. “Who the hell does that?”
“Maybe they thought they were doing you a favor,” she says, going to the fridge for the champagne bottle. “They probably figured that if the prospective client couldn’t come, there was no reason for the four of us to suffer through the awkwardness of small talk.”
I ignore her placating. “And what kind of bullshit is ‘something came up’? It’s the oldest, lamest blow off in the books.”
“So you’ll woo Jarod some other way,” she says, reaching across the counter to top off my glass.
I put a hand out to stop her. “I shouldn’t. Not if I’m driving back.”
“No way,” she says, batting my hand away and refilling the glass. “I am not getting back in the car with that dog just yet.”