by Kendall Ryan
The Hookup Handbook
Copyright © 2019 Kendall Ryan
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Table of Contents
The Hookup Handbook
Table of Contents
About the Book
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
What to Read Next
Follow Kendall
About the Author
Other Books by Kendall Ryan
About the Book
My love wand is on a strike.
As bad as that blows, pun unintended, it’s ten times worse for me. I’m a male escort, but not just any escort, I’m the escort. The one with a mile-long waiting list and a pristine reputation that’s very well-deserved.
Only now, I’m on hiatus. Because after years of pleasing women all over the city, my man missile decides to get finicky. And the only woman he wants? Someone I can never have—my best friend’s younger sister, the nerdy and awkwardly adorable Sienna.
She’s working at the agency this summer, keeping me organized, handling paperwork, and most importantly, keeping me on track to finish writing my book about sex and intimacy, which is due to my publisher in thirty days.
She thinks I hate her, that I don’t want her here. The truth is much more twisted. I get hard every time she walks into my office. Her wide blue eyes and pouty mouth drive me wild with desire, and if she stays, I’m not sure how much longer I can stay away from her.
Little Miss Overachiever says she’s here to help? Fine. I’m going to put her nerdy, curvy tush to work.
Chapter One
Case
“Charlie, you’re the best agent in the biz—and you know I love you—but you’ve got to stop worrying. I have everything under control.”
Wedging my phone between my ear and my shoulder, I stand up to stretch my back and rearrange some client folders behind my desk. It’s been six months since I signed a book deal with Smith and Collins publishers, and honestly? Things aren’t going great. But there’s no way in hell I’m letting my agent know that.
“That’s all well and good, Case, but your final deadline is in thirty days. Sure you’ll have a finished manuscript by then?”
Christ. Thirty days? When did that happen?
“Listen, I’ve been an escort for eight years now. You don’t get a waiting list of beautiful women a mile long by having no clue what you’re doing in the sack. Every man who reads this book will be a freaking sexpert in no time.”
“That’s what they’re paying you for, champ. As long as you deliver.”
My stomach churns. If I don’t figure something out soon, I’ll be completely screwed. I already used the advance they gave me for a down payment on a home for my mother. And more than anything else on the table right now, I can’t let that deal fall through.
“I’ll buckle down and get it done, okay? I promise. Look, I have a lot of paperwork to process, but I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up, dropping back into my chair and dragging a hand over the scruff on my face.
You want to know the truth? Thirty days until the deadline, and I’ve got nothing. Nada.
When I signed up to write a book on sex, I thought it would be a piece of cake. And in some ways, it is. I know exactly what I want to say. It’s just the whole putting-words-on-a-page thing that’s holding me back. Which I realize is kind of the entire point.
My computer dings with a new email, reminding me that I still have a business to run. The email is from another woman hoping to schedule a date, plus a little extra after dessert. She requests me by name—a friend of hers gave her a referral—which only makes the knot forming in my stomach tighten. I email her back to tell her I’m on hiatus, and refer her to one of the other guys on my payroll.
I know my line of work is a little out of the ordinary. I’m aware that most guys my age are busting their asses for the man, and that I’ve got it pretty fucking good. It’s not exactly a hardship to fuck beautiful women for a living. Unless the one thing you’ve always been able to rely on suddenly goes out of commission.
That’s right. The last three times I took a woman to bed, I haven’t been able to get it up.
Let’s get one thing straight: there’s nothing wrong with my dick. I still wake up every morning with the little man saluting like a proud soldier.
But when it comes time to actually perform on the job? He’s been as limp and lifeless as a dead fish. Not even a twitch in my pants. Which means that unfortunately I’ve had to come up with an excuse at the last minute to rush out on my most recent dates—and give the ladies a refund, of course. So, yeah, my little problem is starting to cost me. And if I’m not careful, it might cost me everything I’ve worked for.
If word gets out that Case fucking Smith can’t get a hard-on, I’m finished. Thank God those women don’t know each other and won’t be able to swap stories. I can’t let anything stand in the way of me making it big—something I’ve been telling myself is just around the corner for months now.
I grew up with nothing, and now I own a home and run a successful business that allows me to employ a half dozen of my friends. Plus, I’m in the process of buying my mom a home close by, something I’ve wanted to do from the moment I understood what bills were, and how difficult it was for us to pay them. My dad split when I was two years old, leaving my mom to work her ass off to keep food on the table and a roof over our heads.
It’s always been just the two of us, and it’s about time I returned the favor. Business has been booming these past few years, and I’m so close to finally taking care of her, I can practically smell that fresh coat of paint. Only now, out of nowhere, my dick decides not to cooperate. Which is super inconvenient.
But just because I’ve taken a temporary hiatus from seeing clients doesn’t mean I’m not working. When a major publisher offered me a deal to write a book on sex and intimacy, I jumped at the chance. I’ve slept with more women than I care to remember, and if there’s one topic I know better than any other, it’s sex. This book should be a piece of cake—if I can just find a way to sit my ass in front of my computer and type.
A quick knock on the door snaps me out of my thoughts, and in strolls Ryder, my best friend and one of my employees. Frankly, I’m surprised he even knocked. Most of the time, he strolls in like he owns the damn place.
“Hey, do you have a sec?”
“Ryder Johnson in my office before ten? This must be important.”
He makes a face and plops down in the chair opposite my desk, swinging one arm over the back. His tousled dark blond hair is pu
shed back off his forehead, and the scruff that normally lines his jaw is gone, which can only mean one of two things. Either he has a date later—and I’m on top of my employees’ schedules enough to know that’s not the case—or he wants something. Bad.
“Nah, dude, I just wanted to come say hey, see what you’re up to.”
I fold my hands and rest my elbows on the desk, raising a single eyebrow.
He smirks. “Fine, you’re right. I have a favor to ask.”
“Lay it on me.”
“I was wondering if you could give my sister a job for the summer. Light office work or something like that. She just graduated from college and needs a way to make some money while she figures out her next move.”
I sigh, running one hand through my hair as the computer dings with new emails. “Look, Ryder, I don’t know. If I go around employing everyone’s little sister that needs a job—”
“I get that, but look, she’s not just my little sister. She’s, like, wicked smart. Super organized, crazy driven, totally type A. We don’t really have anyone managing things, and I think she could help out around here.”
He has a point. As if the stacks and stacks of paperwork on my desk didn’t already make that clear.
“Sure, why not. She can start Monday.” Because I hate paperwork.
“Really? No interview or anything? You’re giving her the job just like that?”
“What, now you’re telling me she’s not really up for the task? If she’s as smart and organized as you say, this job should be mind-numbing for her.”
“Thanks, man. I really appreciate it.” Ryder looks genuinely relieved. I know the feeling of wanting to take care of family all too well.
“Don’t mention it. Now, go find a way to make that fresh shave of yours actually useful.”
Ryder smiles, nodding at the schedule open on my computer. “Got a new client for me, boss?”
“Actually, I think I do. I’ll send you the deets later today.”
He nods and saunters out of my office, probably to play video games and eat my food. Not that I really care. When it comes down to it, he’s good at his job. Having a six-pack and God-given good looks is only half the battle, but I’ve never had a woman complain about his performance.
I lean back in my chair and take a long look around the office.
Ryder’s right. We could use some help on the administrative front. I’ve always managed that side of things myself, but with how busy we’ve been lately, it’s been harder and harder to stay on top of it all. Add a book deadline to the load, and I could very well let one too many things fall through the cracks.
Besides, who knows what this girl’s major was in college? Maybe she can help me out with this book. God knows I could use the help.
Chapter Two
Sienna
“Can you slow down, Ryd? I really don’t want to be late for my first day because you got us pulled over.” I have to practically yell for him to hear me over the unrecognizable electronic music he’s blaring.
Ryder snorts, rolling his eyes at me. “I do this drive pretty much every day, and I’ve never once gotten a ticket,” he says bluntly, not easing off the gas for a second. “We’re fine. Chill out.”
When I was a little girl, I was always changing my mind about what I would be when I grew up. I spent countless hours playing princess, teacher, or astronaut. I’d dress up as a ballerina, or pretend to be a veterinarian with my stuffed animals, letting my imagination run wild with possibilities of my future career. Mom always told me I could be anything I wanted to be.
Somehow, I don’t think working at a male escort agency is what she had in mind, and I can’t say it’s really at the top of my list either.
I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Freshly graduated with a business degree and with practically zero ideas as to what I want to do with it, I’m at the point where any job is better than no job at all. I’m lucky that my brother was willing to vouch for me and get me this part-time gig at his, um, place of employment. If you can call it that. I’m doubly lucky that he let me move into his spare bedroom. Not that I can’t afford my own place, but it’s nice to have a roommate I can carpool with. No way could I walk into my first day at this kind of job without a little moral support.
Ryder zooms through our morning commute, taking every turn a little too fast and paying more attention to his playlist selection than the road. He’s been working as an escort with this agency for a few years now, and based on his lazy one-handed grip on the wheel, I’d say the drive is second nature to him. As he swings into a particularly sharp turn, I roll up my window to keep the humid summer air from ruining my carefully styled waves.
But Ryder’s right—I do need to chill out. I’ve got that feeling in my stomach like I’m waiting in line to go on a roller coaster.
But who could blame me? It’s my first day of work at a job where I’m the only employee who isn’t having sex for a living. Ryder’s line of work never bothered me much, but I was always able to keep the details at arm’s length. Now I’ll be right in the middle of the action, so to speak, and I can’t help but feel a little grimy about the whole thing.
“You seem tense,” Ryder says as his gaze remains out on the road. “Are you thinking about Evan or something?”
“I never should have told you about him at all.”
He turns the volume down on the radio. “Why not?”
“Because you keep pulling the older brother card on me. I’m fine, I swear.”
“That’s what brothers do. They also lend out their spare bedrooms to their little sisters. So, are you thinking about Evan?”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I never should have told Ryder about my breakup with my college boyfriend. Now he brings it up all the time, like he thinks he’s supposed to ask about it or something. I spared him the details, like the real reason Evan ended things with me. I also left out the part about my personal goal to chase Evan’s memory away with a summer fling.
“No, I’m not thinking about Evan. I’m way over him. That was months ago. I’m just nervous about my first day. This isn’t exactly a typical job, you know.”
“You’ll be great,” Ryder says. “And I promise it’s not nearly as awkward as you think it’s going to be. Case is fuckin’ awesome.”
Okay, then. Apparently, my new boss is fucking awesome. Yay, me.
I pick at a loose thread on my charcoal-gray pencil skirt, hoping Ryder is right. I just have to think of this like any other temporary office job. Just something to buy me time and give me a little experience while I sort out whether to apply for grad school. It’ll look good on a résumé, as long as I leave out the company’s details.
“Just administrative work, right?” I ask, verifying for what has to be at least the hundredth time.
“Of course. Filing some paperwork, helping the boss stay organized. No funny business. You’re just here to do office work.” Ryder takes his hand off the wheel to lay it on his heart, then puts three fingers up in the air. “Scout’s honor.”
The car veers a bit, and I grip the dashboard for dear life.
“Any way you can put your ‘scout’s honor’ on getting us to the office without crashing the car?”
Ryder returns his grip to the wheel, and my blood pressure returns to normal. “We’re not gonna crash,” he says as he makes one last sharp turn down what looks more like an extra-long residential driveway than an office entrance. “Besides, we’re already here.”
As we cruise down the driveway, an enormous white stucco-and-glass home emerges from behind the sycamore trees. Ryder swings the car into a miniature parking lot off to the side of the house, parking next to a small collection of luxury cars.
“Quite the office,” I say in a hushed voice, taking in the gorgeous landscaping.
“The office is the entire first floor. Otherwise, it’s the boss’s house.” Ryder unbuckles his seat belt and hops out.
“More like the boss’s mansion,” I mutter, follo
wing Ryder’s lead out of the car and up the limestone walkway. I’m wobbling a bit in my black heels but keep my chin high, repeating my brother’s promise over and over in my head. No funny business. You’re just here to work.
Ryder punches in a pass code at the door, and with a whir and a click, we’re in. “It’s ten twenty-two,” he says over his shoulder. “Case’s mom’s birthday. But I’ll pretty much always be here with you, so you probably don’t have to memorize the code.”
I smile, knowing that I’ll commit it to memory anyway. I’m not one to let the details slide.
My heels clack along the white marble floor as I follow closely behind Ryder, avoiding eye contact as he greets a tall, toned man who walks by, and then another and another.
“Do I need to know them?” I whisper.
Ryder laughs. “Not if you don’t want to. They’re just like other coworkers, except they happen to be escorts. The only one you really need to know is Case.”
Past the kitchen and then a conference room, Ryder leads us to a big wooden door and knocks twice. A low, gravelly voice comes from the other side, telling us to come in. And we do.
“Hey, Case, this is Sienna. Sienna, this is the big man, Case.”
I step out of Ryder’s shadow and lock eyes with Case’s ultra-serious stare.
Big is the correct adjective to describe this man. He’s sitting, so I can’t properly gauge his height, but he’s got to be six and a half feet tall. Dressed in jeans and a white T-shirt that his biceps are trying to escape from, he makes me feel overdressed. His coffee-colored hair is short and neat, just like the scruff hugging the angle of his jaw.
He’s handsome, there’s no denying it. I guess his profession suits him. But it’s the stare that catches me the most off guard. So serious and unwavering. If my brother is the easygoing one, Case looks like he’s all business. His hands are folded neatly on his wooden writing desk next to an overwhelming stack of paperwork, which I can only assume will soon become my responsibility.