Page 40 of Screwged for Christmas

“My very well-endowed billionaire boss? You better believe it,” she finishes for me and I watch the smirk on her face turn into a deep blush. She snatches the phone from my hand.

“Not my fault he left his door open and I happened to walk by.”

“Hmm-hmm. Lucky you. He doesn’t know you have this does he?” I tap the side of her phone and that blush of hers turns redder than berries on a holly bush.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides since snapping those pictures I’ve been a mess of horniness. I swear I’m so close to flashing some boob and getting in on the secret twitter sex scene or something to see if I can’t land a hot one-night stand. Anything really at this point.”

“You’re kidding:”

Her hair brushes over her shoulders as she shakes her head emphatically. “Nope.”

Oh. “So, that’s like a thing? A real thing?”

She pulls up Twitter and flips the phone around. “You remember my friend, Shannon? Let’s just say she won’t be cold this Christmas.”

“How many men is that?”

“Three.”

“Oh. Well damn.”

I consider the girl with a blonde pixie cut who has her shirt raised in a selfie with a sassy smile and no bra to speak of surrounded by more muscle at once than I’ve seen in all of my adult life. She’s cute and sexy, sure but…

I raise my eyes to Gracie. “You’re not doing that. I hope we don’t see her in the news. Besides, what goes on the internet, stays on the internet.”

Gracie rolls her eyes and I feel her frustration but still.

“I can’t get anyone’s attention. Especially not his.”

She shakes her phone at me.

“Maybe I’ll go speeding down 8th Avenue and get pulled over by that tatted, hulking muscled cop. You know the one everyone says is a big teddy bear? Maybe he can warm me up this Christmas.”

Not a woman—married or single—in New York City didn’t know about Officer London. With arms the size of both my thighs put together and a smile the melts panties instantly I am surprised there aren’t more ‘crimes’ being committed during his tour hours.

“He’s not really your type, sweetie. You never liked the jock-looking types. Besides, you could just put yourself up on a dating app, ya know.”

“Yeah,” she says and smiles with a twitch of longing in her deep blue eyes as she passes a thumb over the glass of her phone. I feel for her. She’s nannied for her boss and his little niece for a year now and has had the hots for him from day one.

“He’s naturally built, you know. But, God help me, you should see him lift weights.”

The color on her cheeks is priceless and I push at her shoulder playfully.

“How long are you going to wait to tell him how you feel? He’s single, right? That niece of his won’t stay small forever. Eventually, you’ll be out of a job and by then it will be too late.”

She tilts her head and purses her lips into a pout. “Your wedding is tomorrow. How long are you going to wait to tell your mother you despise this wedding she’s planningandthe groom? By tomorrow evening it will be too late, sweetie.”

She has a point. My clock is ticking down faster than hers.

“I don’t hate Harvey I just don’t love him or want to marry him.”

“Have you slept with him yet?”

“Geez, Gracie. Can you say that a little louder?” I don’t know what I’m paranoid about. It’s not like there’s anyone else in here, but I’ve kept that secret under my hat for so long hearing the words spoken aloud weirds me out.

“Well?” she probes with that arched brow of hers. Whenever she decides to have kids the little tikes would definitely cave under the power of that pointed look.

My stomach convulses just thinking about my father’s long-time business partner's meek son. It’s not that he is unattractive. I just don’t go for the submissive type. You know what I’m talking about. The kind of man who runs from a confrontation the second someone raises their voice or disagrees. And who can never make eye contact. Honestly, I don’t know what my mother was thinking when she arranged the whole thing. Money and keeping it all in the family is the short—and only—answer I can come up with.

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