Page 6 of Heartsmashed
And then another.
And another.
The only problem was, the profiles were full of everything you needed to know about these guys, down to their pants size, but they didn’t include photos of the men. All the red tape and no pictures? How did I know the guy would be hot enough to make Peter jealous?
No, that didn’t matter as much as having a physical body beside me who knew how to handle these kinds of situations. I wasn’t actually looking for someone to be attracted to; Ijust needed someone charming and attentive and convincingly into me for the week without any complications. There was no getting hurt that way.
“Yes,” I said, taking a deep breath and letting all my reservations go as I exhaled. For the first time all night, I felt the tension in my chest ease, because this was a solution to my problem. I just had to find the right fit.
Could this end up being a complete and utter disaster? Absolutely. But it was a plan, and that was better than nothing.
I skimmed through a few profiles until I found one that made me want to send them a message. The site said you could schedule an in-person meet before the agreement, so if it came down to it and the guy was terrible, I could back out, no problem.
Without any more hesitation—thank you, liquid courage—I hit the Contact button and wrote:
Hello, #9821, I’m looking for someone to accompany me to a private family event next week. Discreet, professional, able to play the role of my boyfriend.
I agreed to the compensation terms and asked for a quick meetup, and then…before I could talk myself out of it…
I hit send.
The message whooshed away, and I stared at my phone for a long moment. Any second now panic and regret would set in, maybe when I was sober, but right then all I felt was a sense of resolve.
“Well,” I said, throwing my arm over my face. “No going back now.”
There was a soft chiming sound, and I looked down to see a new notification on my phone screen.
“Oh shit.” I sat up quickly, opening the message. My breath caught at the five-word response.
I’d be happy to meet.
My pulse immediately quickened, heat rushing to my face as I typed back a time and location for the next day.
I’ll be the one in the blue tie. See you then.
A disbelieving laugh escaped my lips as I dragged my hand through my hair.
Holy shit. This was happening. I’d just agreed to meet…anescort.
“Just a meeting,” I told myself. An introduction. Nothing more, nothing complicated, nothing real. Just a simple transaction, something to make Peter realize what he’d lost and that leaving me was the biggest mistake of his life.
I only hoped I hadn’t just made the biggest mistake of mine.
3
BECKETT
I’D BEEN WATCHING my blind date flirt at the bar with another man for the last ten minutes.
He hadn’t realized I’d clocked him, of course, but I’d managed to squeeze a photo out of my instigating friends, and the man with the easy smile and a little too much confidence was definitely the “Ross” I was supposed to meet.
I sat back in one of the hotel lounge’s leather chairs and took a sip of my drink, letting the whiskey warm my chest as I scanned the room the way I always did. The lounge was all dark, polished wood and dim lighting, the kind of place you met someone when you wanted a bit of privacy. I’d been told it was a good choice for a blind date, and since I was a man of my word, I showed. But the longer I sat there, the more I realized I should’ve trusted my first instinct and stayed home.
I glanced once more toward the bar, where my date was laughing a little too loud, his hand resting on the forearm of the attractive man in a blue tie beside him, and found myself feeling…relieved. Now I wouldn’t feel any sort of guilt about having to gently turn down this friend of a friend, because he clearly wasn’t here for me.
Good. Now I could finish my drink and head home. I had an early session with our starting point guard tomorrow morning, and I had a feeling he’d come in limping like a man three times his age, all the while insisting his knee was “fine.”
Bullshit. It hadn’t been fine since he’d buckled his leg trying to avoid a hard screen at the top of the key. I could already hear myself telling him to cut the shit and get on the table.
