Page 66 of The Sebastian Guarantee
She stopped in the middle of the hallway and took a step back, untangling her arm from his. “A heart that probably shouldn’t have accepted Jeremy’s apology.” Confusion flashed in her eyes as she took another step away from him and leaned against a door. “What’s wrong with me, Sebby? It’s like my man-eater superpower skills only work on . . . on you.”
That was quite a revelation.
“Nothing is wrong with you,” he stammered and glanced past her shoulder. “Except . . .”
“Except what?” she squeaked.
“Except you’re standing in front of our door.”
“Gah, Seb, what am I supposed to do?” she lamented, stepping aside as he unlocked the door and opened it for her. “Maybe I focus my man-eater energy on Jeremy,” she pondered, entering the room.
Every cell in his body screamedfuck no—Jeremy Drewler is a colossal schmuck. He wanted to shout this to the mountaintops, but he held back his blistering tirade.
Phoebe paced in front of the king-sized bed. “I could lead him on, reel him in, and then drop him like a bag of dog crap.” She gasped.
“What is it?” Did she realize that was a terrible idea? Jesus, he hoped so.
“You shouldn’t drop a bag of dog poop. It would make a mess and smell terrible. Plus, it’s illegal and bad for public health.”
He could see the cogs in her brain starting to smoke. She was spiraling.
“How about this?” she continued. “I string him along and drop him like a hot . . . dog.” She shrieked. “No, I would never drop a hot dog. But you know what I mean. If I could make Jeremy Drewler fall for me, that would be the ultimate sign that I’d attained total man-eater status. You saw him tonight. My wardrobe, makeup, and hair transformation knocked him off balance. He said he wanted to prove himself to me.” She twisted one of the beads on her dress. “What if he meant it and truly did feel bad about what he did? Let’s not forget, I’m not completely innocent either. I retaliated with a bottle of Dijon mustard.”
He nodded, trying to appear unaffected while his mind worked overtime. He had to figure out a way to make her see Jeremy was wrong for her and a terrible target for her man-eater project. “Jeremy was awful to you, Pheebs. He deserved way more than a little mustard to the eyes. I watched the recording and heard what he said.”
“You heard it?” She stopped pacing, then huffed a mirthless little sound. “Of course you did. I sent it to you.” She shook her head and continued wearing out the carpet. “I don’t want to waste my energy hating him. And I don’t want to discount what he said tonight. I understand what stress can do. I want to succeed as well. I want to be the kind of person that would make my parents proud if they were still alive. It’s a tall order. That amount of drive and determination can make a person do crazy things. I stress-ate six food truck hot dogs in one day. It was almost seven, but you—”
“Ate it. And it was delicious. The best I’ve ever had,” he answered, and he wasn’t kidding.
She leaned against the dresser positioned against the wall across from the bed. “Hank’s Franks serves up a mean hot dog,” she replied, losing the frantic edge.
“Do you want my professional assessment?” This was the best avenue to take. Keep it about the life coaching.
She captured him with her deep blue eyes. “I want that more than anything.”
He stood before her. “Let’s role-play.”
“Role-play?” she repeated.
“You weren’t prepared to run into Jeremy. That was a slip on my part. It won’t happen again.”
She watched him closely. “And why is that?”
“Because next time you see him, no matter what he says, you’ll know what to do to maintain the upper hand. When he approached us, you started off with the right energy. You were assertive and employed the right amount of disregard, but then—”
“I felt sorry for him,” she finished, her shoulders slumping.
He tipped her chin up and met her gaze. “You’ve got to learn to turn off your sentimental side and tap into the man-eating barracuda. You don’t need Jeremy Drewler’s attention. In fact, focusing on someone else could make him squirm.”
That was his angle—his purely professional angle.
Jesus, who was he kidding?
“You might be right,” Phoebe agreed. “I wasn’t wearing my glasses, but even I could see his expression. Jeremy has never looked at me like that before.”
He released her chin and caged her in against the piece of furniture. “What’s that look?” he asked, lowering his voice.
Phoebe inhaled a sharp breath. “Like there’s nothing else in the world he wanted.”
