Total pages in book: 154
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148473 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 742(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
John: We knew you could do it.
Laughing, I shake my head as I dictate a final reply for now.
Asher: Lies, sweet little lies.
Then, I tuck my phone away so I can focus on Maeve for the rest of the night.
After we eat, we head to the theater in the heart of The Extravagant, walking through a glitzy concourse, flanked by high-end boutiques and bustling cafés. Along the way, Maeve pinwheels her arms, pointing frantically up ahead.
I groan when I see another ad for CheekyBeast. Damn, the brand really went all out here in Vegas—but then again, this is the kind of city where you bring your best drawers. Several feet away a glossy image of me is plastered to the wall. In it, I’m striding to a work-at-home-style desk, dressed in a crisp button-down and a pair of monkey-print briefs, with the slogan Monkey Around at the Home Office across the bottom of the image.
Maeve grabs my arm, tugging me to a stop. “We need a selfie with the real thing and the image. I’ll call it—Seeing Double.”
Even I have limits when it comes to this woman. “That’d be a hard no.”
“Why not?”
I scoff, then spin around, arms out. The concourse is packed. “If I’m spotted taking a selfie with an ad of me in boxer briefs, how long do you think the guys will give me hell for?”
She taps her chin. “Forever?”
“And then some,” I add, and we move on past the image, but not before Maeve waves to it, saying, “Bye, Asher’s ass.”
As we continue down the hall, she shoots me a quizzical look. “So you’re wearing monkeys tonight?”
“A gentleman doesn’t tell,” I say.
“Are you a gentleman?”
Not in bed. “Sometimes,” I say, holding her gaze for a beat before we reach the venue. The Sapphire Theater holds around five thousand, and the place is packed as we head toward our VIP seats in the front.
As we make our way through the crowd, I reach for her hand, then position myself slightly ahead of Maeve, clearing a path through the boisterous throng. The scent of beer, sweat, and perfume mingles in the air, blending with the riotous sounds of laughter and cheers. The party atmosphere is in full swing, and the anticipation for the show builds with each step. The crush of bodies is intense, so I grip her hand tighter, keeping her close to my side.
“Aren’t you possessive,” she says.
“Don’t want anyone touching my date,” I joke, only it’s not a joke.
I fucking don’t.
I scan the theater, making sure no one is getting too close to her.
No one but me.
By the time we reach the front of the room, I’m all too aware of her warmth beside me. But as she slips into her seat, flashing me that carefree smile, I remind myself to keep it cool. Tonight’s about fun—just fun. And I’m going to do whatever it takes to make that happen.
I can’t find her a job or line up clients, but there’s one thing I know I can do—make her smile. And when she does, it lights up her whole face. That makes everything worth it.
When she turns to me, she flashes it full wattage, and says, “Let’s see if you’re a hundred-thousand-dollar date, Callahan.”
I crack up but quickly school my expression. “Is that a challenge?”
“I believe it is,” she teases. “I paid a lot for you.”
I toss my head back, laughing. I’m about to point out the obvious—that she paid nothing—but stop myself. That’s poor sportsmanship. It’s also untrue. She might not have paid in dollars, but she paid in chutzpah, in guts, and in fucking loyalty, wanting to save me from someone I didn’t even know wanted to use me as a pawn. I think back to the mom and dad in the lobby, to their happiness and relief at getting a break tonight. I think, too, of how easily we made that happen for them.
I loop back to the auction, when Maeve saved me from what could’ve been a sticky situation with Miranda. So yeah, Maeve definitely threw down for me. And I’m going to show her what a great date I can be.
“You sure did. And I’m going to make it worth every single cent,” I say.
When the band comes on, I don’t hold back. I cheer, I shout, I grab her hand, and the crowd around us gets to their feet too. We sing along, voices getting hoarse, but I don’t care. I don’t play hockey with my voice. I play it with my body, and I use it tonight, dancing with a friend, showing her the time of her life.
When servers come by, trying to get our attention above the noise, I scan the menu and ask for a Lemonade Affair. It’s rosemary, lemonade, and gin. Maeve’s eyes light up, so I amend the order to make it two. When the drinks arrive, I toast to us.