Page 14 of Fourth Base with the Alpha
Except, I think he does look kind of cuddly, in a big gruff, scary bear sort of way. The type of bear that would probably snap its teeth through your hand if you tried to pet him.
“It was our first try,” I say, reminding myself of the triple paycheck and all the credit cards we’ll be able to pay off with the money. Totally worth a bit of awkwardness. And anyway, once we’d escaped that lingerie shop, it hadn’t been that awkward. Okay, the man is tense and getting him to speak is like forcing blood out of a stone, a very solid stone. But I’d actually enjoyed myself. “We’ll do better next time.”
“You’d better because your next time is the Stellar awards.”
My heart slams on the brakes like a kitten just scampered across the road. “What?”
“The Stellar awards are this Saturday. You knew that, Isabella. We’ve been planning for months.”
“I know but … how did you even get me a ticket?”
They’re like gold dust. Minor celebrities would actually sell both their kidneys for a sniff at one.
“You think they’d want to miss the chance of having Hunter Larsson’s new girlfriend at the event? They know what hits the papers.”
“¡Mierda!” I can’t help squeaking.
The Stellar awards are like a dream. The kind you weep about when you wake up and realize it wasn’t real.
I pinch my forearm, hard.
Hunter frowns down at my action. “What are you doing?”
“Pinching myself.”
“Don’t,” Kim says. “Bruises are a fucking nightmare to conceal.”
“Don’t get excited,” Hunter slumps back in his chair, making the legs groan, “it’s fucking tedious.”
I shake my head emphatically. “No, it’s not. I’ve watched every ceremony since I was 10.”
He looks at me like I ran over that kitten.
“Well, you’ll have your fake-dating performance to keep you occupied this year, Hunter,” Kim says with what I suspect may be the hint of a smile on her lips.
I glance at Hunter. She likes torturing him and clearly this whole fake-dating business is torture for him.
For a moment, I feel sorry for him. Then I remember he’s the reason we’re doing this and I’m going to the fucking Stellar awards! I sit on my hands to stop myself from bouncing up and down and clapping with glee.
“I’ve already had an up-and-coming designer call me this morning asking if you’re going and if they can dress you. I’ve organized a fitting this afternoon.”
My jaw hits the floor.
Kim tuts at me. “This is the business, Isabella.”
“But a designer? Is going to dress me?”
“It’s not one of those stupid designers, is it?” Hunter frowns at Kim. “One who’ll have her dressed as a pineapple or a cloud to make some statement against capitalism or climate change.”
“What?” I ask, deciding that sounds like another dream I’ve had, only not the good kind. The kind where you relive your prom, only you’re dressed in your grandma’s nightdress and everyone is laughing at you.
“NO!” Kim glares at him. “They’re the kind that do beautiful slinky dresses.”
“Good,” Hunter says.
Kim’s glare becomes fiercer. “You’ve got your own fitting tomorrow morning. You haven’t forgotten, have you? You can’t rock up looking like you fell out of bed when you’ve got a beautiful woman on your arm.”
Although, Hunter never does. He’s always well groomed; his beard so soft looking I want to run my fingers through it.
