Page 46 of Toy Shop

I shut it down.

“Yes, Nola’s boyfriend.” I flip through the contract Hannah printed for me, focusing on the task at hand. “I imagine she told you about her dream shop?”

“Pfft, told me? Until you came along, she wouldn’t shut up about it.”

Again, the mess of feelings of belonging and unworthiness clash within me.

Rhodes cuts into my thoughts. “Since I assume where this conversation is going, the answer is no. Even I can’t convince Nola to accept a handout. She’s proud, works hard, and whatever you plan to give her, she’ll throw right back at you.”

“Fully cognizant.” A laugh nearly sneaks up on me, remembering her fierce resistance.

“You gave it a shot, I see.” Rhodes’s laughter, unlike mine, flows freely from him.

The validation I made a good impression is a relief. “I have. That’s why I’ve come up with another idea, and I need your help to pitch it to her.”

He doesn’t wait a second before saying, “For Nola? Anything.”

“Excellent.” I arrange the papers, content to get the ball rolling. “Let’s start.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Nola

“Aaaand last question, answered,” I say to myself. I click on the green Send button to finish my application for The Young Entrepreneurs in Seattle charity, a smile splayed on my face.

This afternoon when I arrived at Toy Shop, Rhodes was waiting for me, excitement brimming from his every pore. He signaled for me to come to look at the website they launched this morning.

True to its name, the charity was set up by anonymous donors who are interested in offering better opportunities to the young people of this city. It fit like a glove with what I wanted to achieve in my life, and frankly, a little too good to be true.

However, since their requirements didn’t involve handing over my bank account or any personal information other than my phone number and email for correspondence—and, duh, my general business plan—I figured I had nothing to lose.

Worst case, someone would steal my idea of a sex shop.

I know, the novelty of the concept.

My phone chimes at the exact moment I close the lid on my laptop. I turn from the IKEA dining room table in my studio apartment, heading for the armchair where I tossed my phone after work.

Alistair’s name surprises and thrills me, and I’m quick to accept the call. “Hey. I was just about to call you.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

He sent me a lot of sweet and kinky messages throughout the day, ranging from Send me a picture of your beautiful smile to Miss you and lest we forget my favorites I’m so hard thinking about you, baby, and Are you wet for me?

I always am.

And there was no one’s voice I longed to hear other than his.

“What have you been up to?”

“I had to file this application for a new charity that gifts grants and/or low-rate loans to entrepreneurs around the city. I needed to get it out of the way so I wouldn’t obsess about it.”

“Sounds like a great initiative. I’m proud of you for taking that step and signing up.”

His tone lacks the curiosity I’ve gotten to recognize in Alistair. I pace around the apartment, my bare feet tapping the hardwood floors with each step. Finally, my head wraps around the answer.

Yup, definitely too good to be true.

---