Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 531(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Two can play at the lying game, though, and I’m not about to let some burrito-delivering, floppy-haired virgin from Indiana best me at a game I was born to play.
So I do him one better and pretend to be Sterling Chase’s new assistant. I’ll teach him a lesson that will hopefully wind us both up in bed… with nothing but the truth between us.
But it turns out his shameless lies are enchanting… unintentionally hilarious… and make it all too easy to forget the truth…
Until I learn that this cutie’s intent is to defraud the company I’ve spent years building. I have to choose: risk the company or say goodbye to the man I’m falling for. A guy who just might be…
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
ONE
ROWE
“Please don’t make me wear the sombrero, dude. The mustache is bad enough.”
I gave my cousin a no-nonsense look that I hoped was visible in the dim light of the alley. “The sombrero is mandatory, Joey. I know it’s a pain in the ass, but you have to do it right, or Lea will fire me, and I very much need this job. And don’t forget, you need to strum the tiny guitar and sing the song after you hand over the food, too. My name is Burrito Bandito…”
Joey watched my demonstration in dismay. “I forgot about the song. Shit. Do I really have to do the little toe-kick thing?”
“Technically, the toe-kick was my invention,” I admitted. I stripped off my Burrito Bandito T-shirt and handed it over, exchanging it for the slightly wrinkled tuxedo shirt Joey pulled out of a shopping bag. “But if you’re gonna do a thing, you’ve gotta commit, you know? And it’s increased my tips by twenty percent, so it’s worth a little embarrassment.”
“Fine,” he groaned. “Fine. The things I do for you, Rowe Prince.”
“And I appreciate them,” I assured him fervently. “All of them.” I waved a hand in the air, encompassing the sombrero and mustache, the tuxedo in the bag, the dumpster we were crouched behind, and the glittering lights of the Museum of Modern Art beyond. “Letting me crash at your place for weeks, figuring out a way for me to get into this fundraising gala, taking over the rest of my Burrito Bandito shift… I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Yeah, alright, okay,” Joey mumbled. He patted my shoulder awkwardly. “I, like, support you and shit. You know that. We don’t need to talk about it.”
I laughed a little despite my nerve-induced nausea.
“Now, shake a leg and get in there before the whole damn party is over. Here.” He snagged a black bow tie from the bag. “Put that on. And you got your ticket, right? ’Cause I only managed to snag one from my boss’s office before they were mailed out.”
“No, I know. It’s in my pocket— Uh, wait.” I blinked down at the silky fabric of the tie in the dim light. “Joey, are there rabbits embroidered on this tie?”
“You said you needed a tux, so I brought you the magician costume I wear at kids’ birthday parties.” He beamed proudly. “Pays to have a cousin who works in the catering and event entertainment business, eh?”
“Joey,” I moaned. “I’m supposed to look like I belong in there. The goal is to impress Justin Hardy enough to get a meeting so I can pitch him my project. I don’t know if frolicking rabbits give off a ‘take me seriously’ aesthetic.”
“Not everybody cares about aesthetics the way you do, Mr. Second-Hand Bougie.” Joey grabbed the fabric from my hands and draped it around my neck. “Your other choice was the tux I wear when I’m dancing at bachelorette parties, and believe me, the shit embroidered on that one would definitely send the wrong message.” He knotted the tie around my neck in record time—clearly, he’d worked a lot of bachelorette parties—and stood back to admire his work. “Besides, nobody’s gonna notice they’re rabbits unless they’re all up in your personal space. And who are you planning on getting that cozy with at the freakin’ Coalition for Children fancypants gala?” He pulled the tuxedo jacket from the bag and held it up so I could slide my arms into the sleeves. “You’re gonna be fine if you just chill. And remember, beggars can’t be choosers.”
I blew out a long, shaky breath. Joey was right. I’d scoured the racks at the local Second Chance Savers but hadn’t found a single cast-off tuxedo, and my wallet was so empty I couldn’t afford to rent one. His loaner was my only shot at being able to blend in at this event. I just needed to calm down and get on with it.
“So, this ticket…” I pulled the crumpled card stock from my pocket, where I’d tucked it right next to the lucky tattoo on my hip. “Do we know whose it is? The front of the envelope doesn’t have a person’s name. It only says Sterling Chase—which is a company.”
“Ironic, huh? Considering Sterling Chase shot you down when you asked them for a pitch meeting? Serves the fuckers right.” He grinned slyly. “You’ll go in as one of them, then score a meeting with Hardy Development, their biggest competitor. It’s… whajamacallit. Poetic justice.”
“Is it, though? I mean, yeah, it sucked when Sterling Chase turned me down,” I admitted. “I’d thought the Trauma Communication Protocol would be a perfect fit there—”
“Stupid name for your project,” Joey scoffed. “I liked the old name better.”
So did I.
“Project Daisy Chain doesn’t sound professional, so I’m trying to come up with a new one.” I tugged at my collar. “Gotta appear as professional as possible since I don’t have a fancy degree or personal recommendation to make me sound legit. Sterling Chase was only one of the sixteen companies that rejected me without a second look.”