❝ꋬⲧℓᥲ𝖘❞

I scrutinized the man who returned Erin’s air-kiss and wave as he pulled out of the motel parking lot.

How can her boyfriend not care that he’s found her at a shady motel with a random guy?

But he’d brought her a full gas can and he didn’t bat an eye when she explained the day’s events.

It said a lot about Erin that the guy didn’t ask a single question. Not even how she’d managed to run out of gas. I almost felt sorry for the poor schmuck.

Almost.

But the sentiment was dampened by another emotion warring inside me.

He tried to ignore it as we got into Erin’s car and pulled back onto the highway.

“He’s too old.”

Shit. Why did I say that?!

“To bring me gas?” She raised a brow at me. “He’s not, like, so old he can’t walk or anything.”

A small crease formed between her eyes, and my hand twitched, but I fought the absurd urge to reach over and rub it away.

Instead, I clenched my teeth.

I will not touch this woman.

“To date” I said.

Erin smirked.

“Oh” She bobbed her head. “Probably. Plus he's married so.”

Married?!

In a motion I couldn’t help but watch with rapt attention, she released the wheel to tuck her long, thick brown hair over her shoulder, exposing the smooth skin of her neck.
I cleared my throat and forced myself to focus on the way the wipers flicked back and forth.

The rain was slowing a bit. Silence stretched between us as I waited for her to elaborate. When she didn’t, I couldn’t stop myself.

“Then why are you dating him?”

“Dating who?”

There goes the damn eye twitch again.

“The married guy in his what... forties...? Who just showed up to bring you gas.”

Erinʼs head whipped in my direction, her eyes wide.

“Eww, I’m not dating him. That’s gross.” She turned back to the road. “He’s my brother-in-law. He’s married to my older sister. Gross. Sinclair? Heʼs going to be a dad in like a few weeks or something. Eww.”

Oh...

“Oh” I chuckled.

We probably needed to talk about the basics so I didn’t make a mistake like that once we arrived at the conference. Other than that she was young, gorgeous, had the vocabulary of a sixteen-year-old, and made my head hurt, I knew nothing about her. But before I could ask my first question, Erin pulled into a gas station.

I unbuckled my seat belt when she parked next to the pump.

“I got it.”

Erin gaped at me.

“Really?”

“You don’t have a coat, remember?”

“Well, yeah. Just don’t fill it up. Get like twenty bucks.”

I froze halfway out of the car and turned to her.

“And why would I do that?”

She shrugged, and that tiny crease between her brows appeared again.

“Well,” She sighed. “Gas is expensive, Mr. Moneybags. I can’t afford to fill up. So I just do small doses to keep this baby running” She smiled and patted the dashboard like the hunk of junk was her pet.

“Small doses? That is why you ran out of gas. And although you might do it regularly, once in a lifetime is enough for me” I pulled my wallet from my back pocket and held up a credit card. “I’ve got it covered.”

“Umm” She tipped her head to the side and opened her mouth but slammed it shut again before uttering a sound. With her hands on the steering wheel, she tapped her nails. Finally, she said, “Pretty Woman.”

If she loses the conversation again, I’ll lose my shit.

“What?”

“It means you can pay for the gas” She flashes me a gorgeous smile that might have been more appealing if my eye wasn’t twitching at her nonsense.

I slammed the door with more force than necessary, but I needed an outlet for my frustration. She was maddening.
Five minutes in the cold, wet night calmed my frayed nerves, and then we were back on the road. If we made good time, we could check in before nine. But that dream died when Erin veered off the road again. This time into a McDonald’s parking lot.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

The woman couldn’t possibly need to pee again.

She went during my conference call.

“I told you I was starving, and that was almost an hour ago” She pouted, her plump bottom lip sticking out.

“We’ll get food at the resort” I couldnʼt help but chuckle.

“By the time I stop by my apartment—”

My laughter died, and I frowned.

“We agreed that I’d buy you everything you need.”

“No, I said I’d come with you, not that I’d let you buy stuff I already have at home. And some stuff isn’t replaceable.”

Erin didn’t even look at me as she pulled into the drive-through lane.

“What kinds of things can’t we find at the damn store?”

“My Morphi eye shadow pallet, for one” She said it as though it should be obvious, then went on before I could comment about the ridiculousness of that statement. “And we’ll never find my birth control pills on aisle three at Target. Plus, grabbing my stuff at my apartment ten minutes away is so much faster than taking me shopping” She rolled her eyes.

Okay, the last two points were valid.

She pressed the button that lowered her window and studied me.

“What do you want?”

“I’m not eating this crap.”

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten fast food. Probably my freshman year of college.

Damn. That was fifteen years ago.

“Suit yourself” Erin shrugged. “You can starve, but I don’t have to.”

After another fifteen minutes, because Bumblefuck backwoods didn’t understand the concept of fast food, we were on the road again. Now it was time for out chat. I popped a fry into my mouth and turned to my companion, who huffed out a laugh.

“What?”

“I’m glad I ordered extra. My brotherʼs kids do this crap all the time.”

“Do what?” I grabbed another fry.

I’ve forgotten how addictive these things are.

“They eat my food after they tell me they’re not hungry.”

Shrugging, I said, “The fries smell really good.” I sighed, working up the mental fortitude I’d need for the coming conversation. “We should talk about some basic stuff so if people ask, we’ll be on the same page.”

“Like allergies and medical conditions?”

What?!

“No, like how we met, how long we’ve been together—things that might come up in conversation.”

“Oh.” She pinched her forefinger and thumb together until they almost touched. “Just one little problem.”

And that twitch was back. I reached for my right cheek in an attempt to make it stop.

“What?” I bit the word out, knowing my tone was harsher than necessary.

“I do better off the cuff. I’m never going to remember what we come up with, and even if I do, I’ll probably go on a tangent and off script anyway. So we should just roll the dice and see what I say” She flung a hand in the air.

I ran through every outlandish scenario she might come up with. My job, my career, and my father’s respect were cradled in this woman’s hands. This woman, who liked small doses of gasoline, didn’t believe coats were required, and offered to be a hooker after receiving a compliment.

“I am so screwed.”

“You worry too much. Anyone ever told you that?”

No, I can’t say I’ve heard that before.

Admittedly, I had people who took care of things for me. Assistants, cleaning staff, drivers. Running out of gas wasn’t a thing because Stanley would be fired if that happened. And yet here in Bumblefuck, with my little Tweedle Dee, every worry became a very real possibility.

When we entered her apartment, I held my breath, expecting to be confronted with total chaos. But the space was neat. There was no clutter or mess, and it was feminine, but in a minimalistic way. Shockingly, her couch wasn’t covered with sixteen throw pillows, and the surfaces in the living area weren’t cluttered with a million picture frames.

Oh...

“This is—” I turned in a full circle, taking in the small space “—surprisingly nice. Do you have a cleaning lady or something?”

My place in LA wasn’t even this neat.

“Are you kidding me?” She glowered in my direction before she huffed. “What about everything you’ve seen makes you think I could afford a cleaning lady?”

Yeah, I’ll give her that.

She went on before I could respond.

“You and I are in two totally different tax brackets. At the rate I’m going, my next career option might be cleaning houses. It can’t be as bad as nursing.”

Has this crazy girl been a nurse?!

“What?”

“Nothing, never mind” She flung a hand out, her burgundy nail polish a crimson slash in the air. “Bottom line. I would be the maid long before I’d be the one hiring the maid.”

Without preamble, she headed toward the back of the apartment. I followed her through the open-concept space, smirking at the bookshelf in her bedroom which was, predictably, full of stuffed animals but didn’t contain a single book.

“I know,” she waved a dismissive hand at the bookcase before I could voice my criticism, “but my dad used to get me stuffed bears for Valentine’s Day every year.” The little dent appeared between her brows, but she shook her head and strode into the bathroom. “It used to be our thing.”

Wait...

“Used to?” A pit of unease opened up in my gut.

Has he passed away?

“We’re not in the best place” She cleared her throat, and the tightness in her voice made it clear I’d hit a nerve.

She appeared in the doorway, then moved past her desk. Against the wall there, I caught sight of a line of books. Modern Quantum Chemistry, Twilight, Ice Plant Barbarians, Our World in Elements, Balancing Chemical Equations, The Selection.

Her tastes are oddly eclectic.

She dug through a small dish on the dresser that sat adjacent to the desk, then pulled out what looked like a ring.

“Want me to wear this?”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s my I’m going out, but I want to be left alone fake engagement ring. It keeps the jerks away.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“You know that women sometimes pretend to be in relationships to keep the creepers away, right?” She slipped it onto her finger.

Thatʼs a thing?

I opened my mouth to ask her to elaborate, but I was cut off by a voice echoing down the hall.

“Hey, chic-a! I’m home and in need of some wine and maybe an IV. Although I should have coffee because I have ten more hours of work.” A tall blonde froze at the threshold of Erin’s room and cocked her head to the side before peering around me at Erin. “Do I want to know?”

If I hadn’t been the topic of conversation, I might have laughed at the incredulous tone she used. This woman had clearly been dealing with Bumblefuck for a while.

“No,” Erin said. “But I’m going away for a few days.”

The blonde pressed her lips into a tight line and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Define away.”

Erin headed back into the bathroom before calling out, “He’s pretty womaning me for the weekend.”

“Holy shit!” The blonde turned her glare on me. “I know you’re strapped for money, but seriously, Erin. Prostitution isn’t the answer.”

My eyes widened.

“What?” I darted a panicked look at Tweedle Dee, who dumped an armload of god knew what into her bag.

“Don’t make it weird,” she rolled her eyes as she finally gave us her attention. “The movie wasn’t about prostitution” She paused. “Well, I mean it was, but it was about how he needed a date for a weekend, and he paid her a shit ton of money to do it.”

Huh. That tracked.

“Can I see you a minute, please?” The blonde gestured to the room across the hall.

Erin rolled her eyes again before heading in. Then the blonde slammed the door behind them.

I rocked back on my heels and perused the room as the women conferred across the hall in tones I couldn’t make out. Above her bed hung four black picture frames. Each looked like a diagram of a molecule, but they were labeled chocolate, serotonin, dopamine, and caffeine.

I turned to the desk to look at the books again, but I paused on the painting. It was a landscape, a print of a Thomas Cole.

I have the same one in my office.

Odd. Looked like we had similar taste in art.

Finally, Erin reappeared and shut the door gently behind her.

“All settled” She smiled and moved to the bed.

With my hands on my hips, I watched as she threw stuff onto the bright-colored duvet. When she tossed the bras and panties into her bag, I tensed.

Fuck.

And without wanting too, I pictured all of those fine curves covered in nothing but black lace. Thoughts of throwing her on the bed flooded my mind and I cursed under my breath.

This had nothing to do with the Pretty Woman prostitution nonsense she kept spouting.

This was a business deal.

And I needed to keep my head in the game.