Chore Play (Dirty Truth Book 3)

by Piper Rayne

  “Not unless it’s at a client’s film premiere.”

  “I figured you’re too cool for that.”

  He shakes his head and we start moving toward the line. “Not too cool, but I doubt there are very many males who choose to watch a romantic movie on their own.”

  I think about it for a second. “Surely, some girl has made you watch a chick flick?”

  He stops at the back of the line and glances over at me for a second, but doesn’t respond. Everyone around us is preoccupied with their own conversations.

  “You’ve never struck a deal where she watches an action movie like Iron Man and you watch The Notebook? Every girl’s seen The Notebook.”

  He chuckles, rolling back on his heels. “You just don’t get it.”

  “Get what?” I lean forward, trying to catch his gaze in order to understand what he’s talking about.

  His eyes focus on me and there’s a seriousness in them I’ve only seen a handful of times, and back then it usually had to do with his family. “There’s never been a girlfriend. I don’t date.”

  My heart leaps and then falls. Is this something I should be happy about or not? He’s pursuing me, right? Presumably he wants to date me, but none of the other woman he’s ever gone out with were contenders. A sadness washes over me for all those other women. Some might have fallen for him like I did, and I know firsthand how devastating it feels when this man doesn’t reciprocate your feelings. Real or pretend, it doesn’t matter.

  He leans closer, tugging on the end of my hair. “Don’t short-circuit over there. I tried in college once, but it never got past two dates. That was my freshman year. After that I never saw the point.”

  I press my lips into a thin line.

  “For the record, I’m not an asshole. Not completely anyway. I’ve never led anyone on. They all know the deal and if that works for them, great. If not…” He lets the statement hang there and shrugs.

  “And now?” My voice cracks, worried about the answer I’m about to get.

  “I know you aren’t this slow,” he says, a soft smile on his lips.

  A throat clears behind us, and we look in front of us to see that we’re holding people up. Shuffling ahead a bit, we mumble our apologies and lock eyes once we’re stuck again.

  “You’re the only girl I’d try this with. The only one worth my time to try to win over.”

  My heart flips so many times it’s like a gymnast in the finale of her floor routine. I wish I could keep my lips straight, and I really wish I could control myself. Because rising on my tiptoes and pressing my lips to his cheek wasn’t what I ever thought would happen at the beginning of the night.

  10

  Jagger

  I rush through the doors of my buddy Leo’s dog store/spa, Canine Couture. “She’s going to be the death of me.”

  Teegan’s girly giggling floats through the store and by the time I weave through all the sequin and satin doggie clothes, Teegan hops off a stool, straightening her blouse while Leo keeps his back to me, clearly doing a little adjusting of his own. I’ve done the move plenty, I’m not a moron.

  “This just compounds my blue dick.”

  “It’s balls,” Teegan corrects me.

  “Which one of us has them? The condition has officially moved up into my dick now.”

  She rolls her eyes, sitting back on the stool and grabbing her computer, placing it on her lap. Leo finally turns around and props himself up on the counter.

  “Did you think she’d sleep with you?” he asks.

  “I heard about the whole striptease she did. Kinky.” Teegan waggles her eyebrows and laughs.

  My gaze shoots to Leo. “Bro code, asshole.”

  Leo shrugs, glancing at his girlfriend, giving a small shake of his head.

  “What’s going on now?” he asks, pulling out a needle and thread and a small piece of leather. I get the shop does amazingly well for him, but if I’m honest, I don’t get what he sees in this profession.

  “I took her to an outdoor movie and she kissed my cheek.”

  “Aw…what movie?” Teegan interrupts and I glance over Leo’s shoulder, seeing the lovesick expression on her face.

  “Psycho,” I deadpan.

  Her heart-filled eyes falter. “You took her to see Psycho?” I’m not sure there could be any more disdain in her voice, even if I told her I took Quinn to the strippers.

  “It’s one of her top ten favorite movies,” I explain.

  Her smile reappears and she points to me and then extends her leg, kicking Leo in the side.

  “I told you,” she says.

  “Fuck.” Leo shakes his hand out and puts his thumb into his mouth, sucking on the pinprick of blood.

  “Sorry.” Teegan jumps off the stool, wrapping her arms around his waist. “Want me to suck it?”

  I hold my hand up in the air. “Let’s save some stuff for my imagination, okay?”

  Leo winks at her over his shoulder. “Is that option open for later?”

  “Always.”

  I wave my hands in the air. “Okay, okay, you guys have already worked your shit out. Back to my problem.”

  “Yeah, baby, it’s all about Jagger.” Leo catches my annoyed look and straightens his back, taking the conversation more seriously. “A kiss on the cheek. Good sign, right, babe?” His gaze veers over his shoulder again.

  “Definitely. Was it at the end of the night?” Teegan asks and then I realize I have an estrogen answer right across from me. Why am I wasting my time on what Leo thinks?

  “It was after the movie, waiting in line to leave.”

  Teegan hops up on the counter right next to her boyfriend. “Why? As a thank you?”

  How do I tell them the sappy thing I said? Fuck, why did I come here again? “I told her I’d never had a girlfriend before.”

  “And she already agreed to the four-date proposition?” Teegan asks.

  My eyes laser in on Leo. “Seriously, man, you gossip like a woman.”

  Teegan clears her throat.

  “No offense.”

  “Uh-huh.” She and Leo share a look I’m sure means they’re wondering what the hell is wrong with me.

  I should leave. Just walk out the door, go back to the office and figure this shit out on my own.

  “Do you want her to be your girlfriend?” Teegan asks, her eyes wide.

  “More than I wanted to get Ryan Gosling the part in La-La Land.”

  Teegan jumps off the counter, patting me on the shoulder. “Then you better make sure you don’t fuck it up.” She walks away, through the back end of the store where they groom the dogs, which they haven’t been doing much of since Leo’s line of doggie clothes got picked up at a national pet store chain.

  I lean in close and whisper. “How do you work and live with her?”

  Leo leans in. “It’s easy when you love the person.”

  “Still, don’t you argue?”

  “Makes for the best sex.” Leo doesn’t pay me much attention, his eyes zeroed in on the leather jacket he’s sewing. “She’s right, you know. If you love Quinn—which I can’t even believe I’m saying to you, of all people—be sure not to fuck it up. If you expected to sleep with her during these four dates, then you’re an idiot. Consider them foreplay and pray by the time they’re up you’ve gotten her drunk on you.”

  “I’ve gotten plenty of women drunk before.”

  Leo glances up at me. “Outside of the bedroom?”

  I remain silent. Point taken.

  “Stop being a pussy and doubting yourself. Where the hell is Jagger fucking Kale?”

  I unbutton my suit jacket and glance down. “Should I get a spandex suit with a big J on the chest?”

  “No, you definitely shouldn’t,” Leo responds, not even looking at me to notice that I undid my jacket.

  “Maybe I should pound on my chest and scream from the rooftops of L.A.”

  “Again, no, you shouldn’t.” He brings the needle through the leather.

&n
bsp; “I can’t believe I’ve been such a wimp. What am I? Vance? Fuck this shit. Thanks for the pep talk, buddy.”

  I jog out of the store, my mind whirling with ideas on how I’m going to woo her even more. This time, maybe I’ll get a little tongue action.

  I snap my fingers as I get off the elevator in my office with the best idea in my head. Perfect.

  “You’re chipper and late this morning.” My assistant Victoria follows me into my office, a fistful of papers in her hand.

  “Hey.” I shrug off my jacket, laying it across the back of my chair. “What’s the most romantic date you’ve ever been on?”

  She sits down in the chair across from my desk and I sit in my high-back chair, booting up my computer.

  “That’s crossing the line.” She places a stack of messages on my desk. “On the business side, there’s an executive meeting at one. Your dad is coming in today and scheduled you for two hours this evening. Oh, and some guy named Grady called. Said he was your cousin and wants to set up a meeting with you.”

  “Grady?” Why is he calling the office instead of my phone?

  “Is he your cousin?” she asks.

  “Yeah, he is. I figured he’d be stuck on a mountaintop somewhere getting ready for the Winter Classics.”

  “Ooh, he’s in the Winter Classics?”

  “He snowboards. Has since he was just a runt. I’ll call him and set up a time at home. No idea why he’s not calling me directly.” I clap my hands then rub them together. “Sounds like a busy day.”

  She stands, looking down at me. “That’s what happens when you play Romeo for three days.”

  “Ah.” I hold my finger up to her. “That reminds me of the original question. Surely you’ve been wooed at some point in your lifetime.”

  Her hip cocks out and she stares blankly down at me. “Well…”

  “No? Not all that surprising, since your attitude could use adjusting most of the time.”

  “I’m sorry, did you want my advice? Insulting me isn’t the way to get it.”

  “I did this whole four-date thing with Quinn and I need to really put her over the top so there’s no question in her mind that I’ve changed.”

  Victoria sits down, her legs together with her pad of paper on her lap. Clasping her hands, I suddenly feel déjà vu from when the principal sat me down at school when I let a pig in for senior prank day.

  “Four-date thing?” she asks, again with an eyebrow raised. Why does every woman raise their eyebrows at me like the words coming out of my mouth don’t compute?

  “Yes, she agreed to give me four dates to make her realize I’m the one.”

  A long stream of breath comes out of her mouth, her eyebrows never faltering. “You are a unique one, aren’t you?”

  I wink. “I’m special.”

  “I think we have two very different definitions for special.” She taps her pen on the pad, leaning back in her seat like this is going to take more than the minute she assumed. “Just be the man she fell in love with.”

  “I don’t know the man she fell in love with. I was a kid with no direction at the time.”

  “In some ways—”

  I hold my hand out. “Remember I’m your boss.”

  “You have trouble remembering that I’m the only one besides your friends who doesn’t kiss your ass.”

  “You can add my father to that list.”

  She slides up to the edge of the chair, clearly exasperated with our go-around. “Hidden under that pompous-ass exterior, there’s a good guy. Show her him.”

  “You think I’m a good guy?” I tilt my head, a small smile on my face.

  “Not really, but whatever she saw years ago, she obviously still sees in you.” She stands up, straightening her blouse and slacks. “Her eyes practically cut through me when she found us in the kitchen. If she didn’t want you, she wouldn’t have wanted me dead.” She rounds the chair, done with our discussion.

  Victoria is different than my other assistants. Usually, I know something about them. Where they live. Whether they have a husband or boyfriend. Pictures and personal items normally litter their desk. But not her. She could be one day from quitting with the lack of personal items on her desk. She never talks about anyone and is at my disposal whenever I call.

  “You think she was jealous?” I ask, even though she already has one foot out my office.

  She circles around to look at me, a smile on her face. “I don’t want to boost your ego, but she was definitely jealous.”

  I glance to my phone as it vibrates and by the time my vision shifts back, Victoria is at her desk, her back to me, signing for a delivery.

  When I check my watch, a gnawing feeling itches the inside of my stomach. He’ll be walking through that door any minute. Opening up my bathroom door, I stare into the mirror, straighten my tie, running a hand down my face. I open up the drawer, searching to see if I have a razor in this bathroom, but damn—

  “Knock, knock.” My dad’s intimidating voice bounces off the walls of my office until it nails me right in my gut.

  I slap on a smile, eager to get his lecture over with.

  “Hey, Dad.” I walk out of the bathroom attached to my office, closing the door behind me.

  “Sorry I missed the team meeting today. I meant to make it back, but I got stuck having to go to San Diego…”

  My mind wanders to last night at the movies while my dad drones on about Chris Pratt and some director and whatever.

  “Jag.” My dad knocks on my desk. “What is going on with you the past few days? I stopped by and you weren’t here. Clients are calling me and your brother because they can’t get a hold of you.”

  I should call him on his bullshit, because I’ve handled my clients. He’s just looking for an excuse to be nosy.

  He smooths down his salt-and-pepper beard, his eyes fixed on me until I respond.

  “I had some personal things to attend to. Marisol is sick. She’s in the hospital.”

  His expression doesn’t change. “I didn’t know. I’ll have your mother arrange a flower delivery.”

  “How kind of you. Tulips for the woman who raised me.”

  His eyes never lose their focus on me and now they’re raging red. “Funny, I don’t remember her shelling out for all the private schools, the Porsche, or your Ivy League post-secondary education.” He slides back into one of the chairs, propping his ankle up on his knee.

  “True, but she did give me homemade soup when I was sick, she was often my only dinner companion, and she was the one who kissed my booboos, which isn’t something to disregard.”

  “Jagger.” My name slips out of his mouth with the exhaustion of a dying man. “I’m here to tell you that I’ve thought about your proposal.”

  Inwardly my eyes roll. Here we go.

  “It’s a go. You can start a new production division. Keep it manageable though until we know whether it’s going to be profitable. Make sure the film rights you contract from the books are sure winners. I’ve assigned Greg, Hank and Trina to your team. We’ll grow as I see fit. My only condition is you keep your current clients, because your brother has too much on his plate with the family.”

  “You expect me to keep my list of clients and start the new division?”

  “I gave you our top people. They’re just as eager as you are.” His fingers tap on the arm of the chair. “But I expect you to lead them.”

  I’ll never give him the satisfaction of kissing his ass. Hell, I have no idea why he’s throwing me this bone in the first place, but I’m not stupid. I’ll take it.

  “I will.” I nod.

  He stands, buttoning up his suit jacket. “Your mother is planning a Fourth of July party, so book it on your calendar. A lot of clients will be there.”

  My chair rolls back and I rise to my feet, my manners never forgotten. “Of course, I’ll be there.”

  He nods, and heads toward the door. My breath is almost dislodged from my throat when he pauses and grips the side
of my door.

  “Please give Marisol our best. If she needs—”

  “I’ve got it handled.”

  He nods again and walks out of my office. I’m finally able to breathe again.

  11

  Quinn

  Jagger: Shorts and tank top. I won’t object to a sundress though.

  I shake my head, sliding out from behind my desk, looking out the window. The older couple who live next door are returning from their evening walk. How do they do it? Maybe in order to hit my deadline I should ask them if I can interview them. Give me a real-life happily ever after.

  Right as I’m contemplating letting my neighbors know how nutty I am, my email pings from my computer. I sit back down in my office chair, sliding up to my desk.

  Fuck.

  To: Quinn Ryan

  From: Wendy Plymouth

  RE: Book TWO

  Hey! I’m ready for your manuscript. Do you need to talk it through? Contact me ASAP.

  I re-read the email three more times, my stomach twisting and my breath growing shallow. Clicking off my email to my screen, I stare at a word count of five hundred words. Five hundred suckass words that will probably be deleted by Wendy. I’m completely screwed. A one-hit wonder.

  The sound of an engine pulling up in front of my house pulls my attention back to the window.

  Damn it, he’s early. Probably hoping to find me coming out of the shower. Pervert.

  Shutting my laptop, I hustle out of my office, grabbing the key from above the door and locking it.

  The doorbell rings and I run down the stairs, my sock-covered feet sliding to the door on the hardwood.

  “Motherfu—” I bounce on one foot, holding the other with my hand, my palm over the doorknob to hold up my weight.

  I place my foot down at the same moment he rings the doorbell again. Impatient.

  Pulling the door open, I fake a smile so he doesn’t know that I hurt myself. He’d probably do something stupid like pick me up and carry me to the couch. The last thing I want is my foot in his lap. Honest.