Mr. Hired Boss (Alphalicious Billionaires Boss Book 4)

by Lindsey Hart

  “Hours might have been better. It’s a less intimidating number.”

  “I hope you’re ready to get fed.” Pearl changes the subject the second we walk through the door. “In this house, we eat until we’re ready to burst for fear of offending my mom.”

  “I heard that!” Marnie’s voice echoes from further back in the house. “We force-feed no one!”

  “But no one can ever tell you no when you try and force the fourth and fifth helping on them!” Pearl calls back.

  The house is nice on the inside too. It’s freshly updated with dark hardwood and grey painted walls. The interior is tastefully arranged, from what I can see. The entrance opens into a large living room, and beyond that, I can kind of see into the kitchen, where the room curves. I bet Pearl had a hand in all the art and rugs and pillows that brighten up the room. Maybe the flooring and paint choice too.

  Pearl slips out of her flip flops, and I ditch my shoes too, even if walking around another person’s house in bare feet is probably gross and weird. Pearl doesn’t seem to even notice. She gives me a half sympathetic, half grateful look before she leads me straight to the kitchen.

  It’s also updated, with a small strip of cupboards, stainless steel appliances, and a tiny island. The table is off to the right, and beyond that, a big patio door displays a deck, chairs, barbeque, and a massive back yard overflowing with lush green grass and flowers.

  Marnie waits about a millisecond after we sit down at the table before shoving all sorts of plates piled up with cookies, squares, and other desserts at us. She then dives right into the most important topic of conversation.

  “So, tell me everything! How did you meet? How long have you been dating? Don’t skip a detail! I can’t wait to hear all about it! Oooh, this is so exciting!”

  Thankfully, we’re saved by Susan, who must have been lingering outside, waiting to rescue her sister. She cracks the patio door and sticks her head in. “Screw the details. I want to see them kiss!”

  “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss!” The chant is echoed from the backyard.

  Marnie stares at us expectantly, and out of nowhere, Fred walks into the kitchen and freezes. He’s clearly not the I’ll cut your balls off if you even think about looking at my daughter type because he stops and has this starry-eyed look that echoes the chanting outside. I feel like I’m the one getting married, we’re already at the reception, and people are banging bottles with spoons, demanding us to lock lips. The pressure is no less intense.

  What can I say? I give the people what they want.

  I shove my chair back, grab Pearl gently around the waist as she’s getting to her feet—more out of surprise at my sudden looming over her than anything—tilt her back, and go for it. I mean, I really go for it. I’m going to completely convince and satisfy her parents and everyone else to the fact that we are totally and utterly absorbed in each other. I’m going to sell the shit out of this, and I’m going to give Pearl the kiss to end all kisses.

  And shit, I already know I’m going to enjoy it because I actually thought about what it would be like to kiss Pearl, in some vivid detail, ever since she walked up to me at that club over the weekend, and also when I met her in the coffee shop on Sunday. All those long hours of sharing a confined space with her—her delicious scent and proximity wreaking havoc on my senses. I shouldn’t kiss her and enjoy it. Any of it. I know that. But reason is not winning out today. Today, my head is in the game.

  CHAPTER 7

  Pearl

  One second I’m fine. Fine as in worrying about how this crazy plotline is going to go down and if my sister means to ruin my life with her pin on penises and by popping her head in the door, demanding we kiss. The next, I’m suddenly half hauled, half propelled by my own initiative because kissing Gabriel would sell this to my parents as long as we do it well, and erm, maybe there’s a small part of me that wants to kiss him. You know, the evil hormones and body parts that refuse to listen to my brain no matter how many times I tell them to back the hell down. Down, lady bits. Down.

  For a split second, I’m worried Gabriel won’t do this right. I mean, he doesn’t find women attractive, and maybe the thought of kissing me is as repulsive as this whole idea is suddenly becoming. I shouldn’t have to pay someone to kiss me. I shouldn’t have demanded this of him. It’s not right. For just that split second, I’m undecided, and then Gabriel’s warm lips descend on mine.

  There’s an explosion in my brain that I think is my last ounce of reason blowing out through my earholes, then my body is doing something gooey and melty against the bigger, stronger, taller, and manly one pressed up against mine. Gabriel’s hands are at my waist, and his lips are on mine, softer than I could have ever imagined, leading me. And holy wow cow, does he know how to kiss.

  There’s no halfway for him. I forget what I’m doing and where I am as I lean into the incredible kiss. My one hand clutches the soft cotton of his t-shirt while the other twines through his oh-so-soft hair at the nape of his neck. He’s warm there. And all over. I’m not sure what surprises me more. The tip of his tongue sweeping through my parted lips and into my mouth, or the sudden hardness I feel poking me somewhere else. Somewhere lower. Like in my stomach area since it’s where his groin is, given that he’s taller.

  What. The. Fuck?

  I jerk back suddenly, and my eyes wrench open. Gabriel looks as mystified as I feel. Why? Because he enjoyed the kiss when he didn’t expect to? Because the strange undercurrent or chemistry or hormones or whatever is flowing hard for him too? Or because my parents are leaning in and staring at us with the hugest smiles on their faces? They look like a set of grinning jack-o’-lanterns.

  I let out a squeak in surprise because I basically forgot they were standing there or that anything else in the world existed. I quickly wrap my arms around my chest, just in case my nipples are poking through my shirt.

  “Yee-haw!” Susan yells from the door. “That was a heck of a kiss! Now come out here and play our penis game. I demand it, and I’m the bride, and being the bride, what I want trumps Mom trying to stuff you both full of baked goods and iced tea.”

  “Okay.” I turn frantically to the side to hide my scarlet cheeks. “We’re coming.” I brush past Gabriel, who looks as flustered as I probably do.

  Was that boner for real? Did he spring one because of some physical malfunction in the groinal junction, or is he actually bisexual? I didn’t really ask. In fact, Dean just assumed he was gay if I remember correctly. When he walked up, he said that because Gabriel was gay, our plan would be perfect. Gabriel never corrected us, but would a complete stranger just be comfortable saying he was bisexual? Also, we had just bombarded him with all our levels of craziness. So no, he probably wouldn’t have felt comfortable.

  “Okay, have fun! I have pie for you all when you get in!” Mom calls from behind us as Gabriel follows me out of the patio door. He shuts it carefully behind him and sends me a quick, apologetic look before he smiles at my sister and her group of friends.

  I know all of five of them because all but one grew up in Sisston. Emily, Paula, Stephanie, and Lisa all went to school with Susan, while Amy is Chase’s sister, so Susan’s future sister-in-law.

  Amy, who is blonde and blue-eyed like her brother, rushes over and hands me a purple penis. “This one is for you, and we have this one,” she produces a massive green, wrinkly, and bent paper laminated penis for Gabriel, “for you.”

  Gabriel inspects it. “It might just be me, but this weenus doesn’t look overly healthy.”

  “It looks healthy enough to me,” Paula says loudly, and the rest of them titter behind their hands.

  Paula always did like retro stuff, and she’s currently sporting a set of huge glasses that look like they’re from the eighties, and she’s also wearing a bright floral dress that likely belonged to the same decade. She’s tall and has a killer body, but it’s her great sense of style, immaculate dark hair, and flawless makeup that really help her pull off the look.

&n
bsp; Gabriel grins back at her, and when Paula blushes before she spins away to pick up an equally large, not so wrinkly, but bright orange paper phallus, I feel jealous.

  Yes. For a split second, that green-eyed beast hits me hard, and it’s like getting a ginormous dart plunged straight into the middle of me out of the blue.

  I shake it off when I find my sister staring at me with both brows raised. I just hold up my “weenus” as Gabriel called it. I like it. Weenus. It’s actually quite funny. I’ll have to remember that one. As if I could forget anything about this.

  The thought is sobering, so I turn around to face the target at the other end of the back yard. My parents have a really nice area. It’s fenced off, and since we have a corner lot, it’s pretty big. Mom, as usual, has gone wild with the flowers, both in her gardens lining the fence on all three sides, and in the pots. At the far end, there’s a life-size cardboard cut-out of Chase wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a blue t-shirt.

  “Are you sure Chase doesn’t mind being the target of this game? I feel like his cardboard doppelganger might take offense to being objectified like this.”

  Susan giggles. “Oh, he knows all about it, and he thinks it’s hilarious. He’s having his stag tomorrow night with his friends, and I’m sure they’ll do way worse than pin a bunch of pee-pees on a cardboard image.”

  “He’s not having it here?”

  “No. In Seattle.”

  “The night before the wedding?” I gasp. “You let him get away with that?”

  Susan looks around nervously. When she grasps her hands and twists her fingers together, I can tell that no, she doesn’t like the idea. Not because she thinks Chase will do anything. He won’t. Chase is an amazing guy, and my sister is very, very lucky. It’s just that his friends might give him so much booze that he’ll have a hangover from ultra-hell and look like a wreck at the wedding if he manages to make it there at all.

  “Bobby promised to look out for him. I trust them all not to give him too much booze, hopefully. Chase would never do that to me. Look like death for the wedding, I mean.”

  “Or the wedding night,” Steph cuts in.

  “Gross,” Amy groans. “It’s bad enough we have to stick weenuses, as Gabriel calls them, onto a cut-out of my brother. I don’t want to think about him and his wedding night.”

  “Hmm, I don’t mind thinking about it,” Susan says with a laugh. Then, she starts spinning around, her bright pink penis held high in her hand. “Okay, enough of that. I’m going first. Someone blindfold me!”

  “I’ll do it,” Lisa volunteers.

  Lisa is a nice girl. She was always stick-thin and slightly over six feet tall. People were really mean to her in high school about it, in the way kids can be mean. They used to call her sticky and Rexic-Lisa (which I always assumed to be anorexic—because she was thin—but she definitely wasn’t). I always felt really bad for her. Susan used to stand up to the people who would try and bully Lisa. She made sure the rest of the kids knew she wasn’t going to be pushed around. Anyway, Lisa is still really thin and kind of awkward with her height, but she’s wearing a tighter fitting blue maxi-dress, and she’s rocking it. She seems way more confident now than the last time I saw her, which was just a few months after Susan’s graduation, so maybe she’s made peace with her height.

  Lisa produces a strip of black cloth that looks suspiciously like one of Mom’s nighties folded up over and over. She loops it around Susan’s eyes and tests it.

  “I can’t see anything!” Susan exclaims. Lisa sets her on the right path, then we all stand back as she blindly tries to make her way across the yard.

  She looks like a walking zombie, and with the penis in her hand extended out in front of her, wobbling and bobbing with her erratic steps, I have to admit the game is pretty funny.

  Eventually, after a few minutes, with a lot of shouts of encouragement and after stepping on one of Mom’s peony bushes—which I’m sure she’s going to be pissed about when she finds out—Susan’s fingers brush the cardboard cut-out.

  “Only one touch!” Paula yells from behind me. Apparently, there are rules. I didn’t realize something like this had them.

  “Okay!” Susan yells back. She bursts out laughing and makes a jabbing motion with the penis.

  I didn’t realize one end of the thing is sticky. Of course, it’s sticky. I slowly turn mine over in my hand to reveal a thin piece of double-sided tape that I didn’t notice before because I’m holding my weenus by the tip.

  Christ. I can’t believe I just thought that.

  We all giggle when we see that she stuck her penis right onto Chase’s forehead. Susan rips off the blindfold as the rest of us dissolve into giggles, and her laugher drifts across the yard.

  “You next!” Lisa points at Gabriel.

  Gabriel glances at me like he’s asking for permission. All I can do is shrug helplessly. I’m starting to learn that Gabriel must not take himself, or life, or things too seriously. He seems easy-going with a good sense of humor unlike my first impression of him. He lines up and bends down so Lisa can secure the blindfold after Susan passes it back.

  After that, he holds his penis out in front of him. Gabriel is pretty athletic looking, and whether he played sports or plays sports or not (because I don’t actually know, obviously), he has an uncanny sense of direction. He makes his way effortlessly down the lawn and sticks his penis straight onto Chase’s left eye.

  Another round of giggles ensues. Gabriel laughs at himself good-naturedly, leaves his big penis there, and walks back down the lawn. He hands the blindfold over to me before dropping a chaste kiss to my forehead that makes my body light up.

  Which is bad, and I shouldn’t be thinking about it. There shouldn’t be anything to think about.

  Whatever Gabriel’s sexual orientation is, this is fake. I’m paying him, so I’m kind of his boss. This is a no strings attached because it’s the way I wanted it. I can’t have shit both ways.

  I let Lisa tie the blindfold before I take my weenus and stumble determinedly down the lawn. I successfully manage not to step on any flower gardens. I also count my steps, which might be cheating, but I judged it to be about fifty from where I was standing. I was only off by five. I brush something with my fingers earlier than I expected. I remember the whole thing about only getting one touch, so I bend and stick my weenus hard onto the cardboard.

  When a collection of gasps echoes behind me, I rip off the blindfold to find that I stuck the weenus straight between cardboard Chase’s legs.

  I guess that is a direct hit, my friends.

  Yeah, I can handle this. I can get through it. I can freaking rock at rocking it. Whatever challenges this weekend holds, bring it on. I’m ready.

  I think.

  I think I’m ready until tonight when I have to share a bed with Gabriel, who I happen to find very attractive. Who might (maybe just a little bit) find me attractive. Who kisses like a freaking tornado, which would make sense, because he’s taken me by storm. Haha. I’m not usually very punny. Then again, I’m not usually attracted to very inappropriate men. Okay, I was, but I’ve since sworn off that. I was doing so well.

  I will do well. I will be fine. I will get through the rest of this weekend. And I will make sure my sister has an awesome wedding. There will not be any disasters of any variety.

  CHAPTER 8

  Gabriel

  After dinner and dessert, which was probably the most delicious meal I’ve ever had (sorry mom!), Susan and her friends headed out. Apparently, they have to set up the hall and the backyard tomorrow, and Susan has other last-minute details to take care of, so everyone wanted to get a good night’s sleep. She’s staying at one of her friend’s houses, though I’m not sure which one, and I’m not sure why. Maybe because she wanted to catch up with them, or maybe so she didn’t feel like she was overburdening her parents with all the wedding details and with us staying here already.

  I’ve had a few friends get married over the years, and they were
always a wreck in the days leading up to it. Susan seems remarkably calm to me.

  I can tell, as the hours tick by, that Pearl is the one getting more and more nervous. I’m not sure if it has to do with the wedding or the fact that in an hour or two, we’re going to have to retire to the guest bedroom on the second floor. I left my bags there earlier, alongside hers.

  I bet she would have been much less nervous about the idea if I hadn’t kissed the living daylights out of her and popped a boner she could probably feel while doing it. I kind of wanted to punch my dick in the face for that one. If my dick had a face, that is. Well, the head then. I’d settle for that. But hmm, not really though, because like it or not, the bastard is attached to me, and I don’t want to punch my own dick because it would no doubt cripple the rest of me for some considerable time.

  Anyway, I’m currently sitting in the spacious living room, listening to Marnie talk about the wedding and how tomorrow they have to go pick up the chairs they’ve rented from some larger city about half an hour away. Fred just keeps nodding. I think he’s kind of nodding off too. I wish I knew their last name. I’m old school, and calling someone’s parents by their first name feels weird for me. My mom would never have let me get away with that when I was younger, and I guess it stuck with me over the years.

  Except I shouldn’t know Pearl’s last name.

  And she shouldn’t know mine.

  One quick search online is all it would take for her to find a few articles—old ones, but ones that are probably still searchable—with my name in them, and she’d put it all together. Although I’m not sure why it matters as it’s not like we’re going anywhere past this weekend. Because this is a job, it’s not real. As amazing as our kiss was, it’s not real. No matter what kind of undercurrent I felt when we locked lips, it’s not real. I have no room in my life for a partner because they always turn out, no matter how it starts, not be real either. I’ve learned to cover my own ass, and me getting romantically involved with someone just turns into a giant mess. I’d rather save myself the lawyer fees and the years of my life that the stress of a nasty breakup would shave off.