Page 43 of Ten Rules for Faking It
“That could happen anyway. One of the guys she dates who doesn’t get pushed through to the next round could say things online. We’ve thought of this,” Stacey said.
Chris caught Everly’s eye, and it struck her that she wasn’t as nervous with him in her space. The first time he’d come, she’d had trouble catching her breath.
Stacey waved a hand. “This doesn’t change anything. Promo and ad space interest are through the roof. Our social media people are working overtime to keep up with the number of messages and emails. People would go crazy if we stopped this.”
Everly nodded, and Chris moved closer.
Her fierce friend paused, and Everly smiled at her. “Can you give us a minute, Stace?”
Her friend’s brows arched up, her forehead crinkling. “Okay,” she said, drawing the word out longer than necessary.
Everly’s heart rhythm tripled. Being alone with Chris was enough to sober her all the way up. So much for the whole I-can-breathe-around-him-now theory. She clenched the towel between her hands, playing a one-woman version of tug-of-war with the two ends.
“I’m worried that this will get out of hand. That I cornered you into this,” he said, his voice lowering.
His arm brushed against hers, but she didn’t step back. The warmth of his body and the heat of his gaze made her want to stepforward.The alcohol had pretty much worn off, and she felt hyperaware of… everything. Like that chick inTwilightafter she turned.What is wrong with you? Finish having a normal conversation with your boss. Pretend you’ve got this.
“We can’t go backward because Simon is a jerk. The whole reason I’m in this mess is because he’s an idiot. Well, and also because my best friend is a bit of a wild card.” Also because of a list she’d decided to make and see through, but there was no way she was letting him in on that little secret.
His gaze snapped back to hers. “I should have expected retribution from him. I let you down, and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
Without meaning to, which surprised her because she was usually very purposeful with her touching, she pressed a hand to his chest. A charge of electricity zipped from her hand straight up her arm and burrowed right into her chest. Into her heart. Letting herself acknowledge the feeling wasn’t smart. He’d been very clear the other night that she was an employee. End of story.He’s helping you find a man for goodness’ sake.She knew he cared for her, for all of them. She didn’t need to mess up this tentative foray into friendship by misinterpreting his feelings or her own. Her thoughts,and feelings,were reserved for the five remaining men she had scheduled dates with.
“I’m thirty years old and single. I want forever, but I’m scared to find it. It’s time for me to get a little uncomfortable.”
The moment held, froze, and spun out. Her hand on his chest absorbed the steady thump of his heart so it felt like her palm had its own heartbeat. She physically fought the urge to curl into him and fit her body to his.
“What are we doing here, people?” Stacey called from the other room.
The moment snapped like a twig underfoot, and Everly all but jumped back.
“Moving forward,” Chris said, his voice rough and his gaze sharp, focused. On her.
Stacey appeared in the doorway. “Yay. Can we do it with food? I’m starving.”
Everly rolled her eyes, stepped around Chris and out of his personal space. Her lungs loosened, and she pulled in a deep breath.
“Yes. You order something. I need to put my clothes away and figure out what I’m wearing tomorrow night on date number two.”
She walked away, back to her room, resisting the urge to curl up with her clothes again. If the effects of the alcohol had already started to wear off, why did she feel so very intoxicated?
[15]
A strange kind of energy pulsed through Everly’s body. It was an I’ve-got-this-screw-Simon-and-the-girl-who-rode-him type of enthusiasm. Tonight’s datewouldbe a success. Every bit as much as the last one. Rule seven: No more holding back. She was a smart, fun,funnyperson who could handle a second first date in the same week. With that reminder, she pulled the door of Mocktails open. Despite its moniker, it did serve alcoholic beverages. She’d checked. Just inside the door, waiting to the right of the hostess station by a few other people, was her date. Corbin Brown, thirty-four years old, owned his own house-painting business and liked animals, sailing, and hosting parties. The party thing made her shudder, but Everly reminded herself she was doing this to become more of the person she imagined herself to be. Someone who didn’t feel like she was going to throw up if they had to hang out with more than three people.
He caught sight of her, his dark eyes widening and a smile taking over his angular face. As he walked toward her, she realized that he was well over six feet, with shoulders like a linebacker.
“Everly,” he said, his voice softer than she’d expected from such a large man. He pulled her into a hug before she could set any boundaries.
Her surprise was muffled against his chest, and he let go ofher before she could say a word. “Sorry,” he said, looking down at her. “I’m just so glad to meet you.”
That’s nice.“Thank you,” she said, somewhat stiffly. She held out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, too, Corbin.”
His wide mouth turned up in a one-sided grin. He shook her hand and said nothing, but she sensed his amusement.
“We have a reservation under your name, right?” He gestured for her to go ahead of him.
The young woman at the front had her hair pulled back and a happy smile on her face. “Welcome to Mocktails. Do you have a reservation?”
