“No.”
“Are you familiar with the dating scene?”
I felt my short window slipping. “Not really …”
Quinn sighed. “So, you see … eaten alive.”
She had already picked up the phone when I yelled, “Wait!” I reached into the pocket on the side of my skirt, hand shaking as my fingers closed around the square card. “I … I have this.” I placed the card on the desk and then stood back.
It took a second, but then a shark-like grin ate up the whole of her face. “Grayson Pierce. Harrison’s little underling. My … my. And how did you manage to snag his personal number?”
“He broke my Kindle.”
“He was the one?” Poppy’s eyes bulged with the question.
Laughter sputtered past Quinn’s lips. “A broken Kindle, huh? Flirting sure has changed. I guess there’s a first for everything. So … what do you intend to do with this?”
My mind wrung its thoughts together. I hadn’t gotten that far yet. “He can … I can … I can call him. Maybe … maybe I could write about him?”
I knew I was driving off blind desperation. Sheer desire to see my dream to fruition.
The rest—the panic and guilt—I would deal with later.
The laughter that fired from Poppy made my ears burn with a tinge of shame. “No offense, Prim, but Grayson would chew you up and spit you out.” She raised an eyebrow at Quinn. “You really wouldn’t consider throwing her to the big bad wolf for her first assignment, would you?”
Quinn didn’t bat a lash. “That big bad wolf is going to take one look at that face and lose his bite. All men have a weakness for the pure. She’s as pure as freshly fallen snow.” Her eyes focused dead on me. “But the real question is, can that pure heart of yours withstand him?”
I knew this wasn’t a moment to stutter. But that was the thing about desperation … it loved to mimic courage. “It’s thirty days,” I said with casual indifference. “I’ve written tougher pieces with less time.”
I wanted to choke on the lie that rolled off my tongue, but surprisingly, I didn’t. I’d listened to enough of my sisters’ conversations and cryfests to know the difference. Which was why I’d chosen to remain celibate, even after moving out from under the thumb of my parents. There was no way I’d give it up to a player such as Grayson.
In that department, I was safe.
But what about kissing? And all the bases that came after? Could I? Would I, knowing he’d be my first in all of the above departments?
Who the hell was I kidding? It was Grayson Pierce. My lips were puckered and ready.
“Ha!” Quinn slapped the desk. “I like her already. Go get ’em, Cherry. Poppy, you’re babysitting since you vouched for her.”
“You got it, boss,” she said with a smile thrown in my direction.
“Good. Take this stack and scan it for me and then show her the ropes.”
Poppy reached for the stack of papers.
After a slippery moment of silence, Quinn peered up at us and said, “Now, get out of my office. Headlines don’t write themselves, ladies.”
The Rules
Prim
I STOOD IN THE MIDDLE of my living room with my cell phone in one hand and Grayson’s card in the other. With every number I pressed, the manic laughter echoing around the inside of my skull intensified. Putting me one second closer to going through with my insane plan.
It’s one call, Prim, and he’s just one guy. A stupidly hot and surprisingly super-nice guy, but still. You’re a Virago woman now. Well, nearly. So, put those big-girl panties on and get it done.
My gaze lifted to the wall in front of me. I was surrounded by my dreams. Literally. I’d devoted an entire wall to pinning up my favorite pictures and articles from Virago and every other form of media that inspired me. Call it an enlarged mood board, if you will.
As I hesitated over the Call button, a flurry of emotions released from the pit of my stomach, migrating like butterflies through my nerves. I wasn’t lost to the fact that this call would change the course of my life. I’d be ignorant not to acknowledge that. But was I ready? Could I truly go through with something that stood against all my principles? Lying to get a foot in the door was one thing, but going through with said lie …
My hand dropped to the side with a big, fat groan.
A second later, my phone buzzed, eliciting a jump.
It was Hazel, my younger sister. The only sister out of four I related to. The one who used to sneak into my room at night and cuddle up to me every time there was a thunderstorm. Who’d sit and listen to the many pieces of work I had written and give honest feedback. Who’d encouraged me to chase my dreams all the way to New York.
“Hey you,” I said as soon as I picked up. “How’s life?”
“Oh, you know. Comparable to a trip from the car to the kitchen, carrying every single fucking bag of groceries just so I wouldn’t have to make a second trip, only to trip over my feet … I bit off more than I could chew. You? How’s the city treating you?”
And just like that, we picked up right where we’d left off.
After a few minutes of mindless chatter, I couldn’t contain what was eating at my insides any longer. Not when the fate of my first kiss hung in the balance. And especially not when the fate of all the single women in the world hoping to hook a player rested on me.
I had to tell her, so I did. I told her about what happened at the bagel shop. About Poppy and Quinn, and my near miss at my dream. And then, I told her the one truth I’d yet to even say to myself—there was no way I could use someone to get ahead.
There was a short moment of digestive silence, and then she cleared her throat and said, “Well, Prim, if all else fails, do what you do best.”
“And that is?”
“Procrastinate.”
My nose scrunched as I chewed on my thumbnail. I didn’t like that knowing, sarcastic tone she took. “I don’t procrastinate.”
“Like hell you don’t,” she said with breathy laughter. “Whenever anything gets too sticky for you, that is exactly what you do.”
“Name one time.”
“Charlie Rivers.”
Heat prickled beneath my skin at the name—an annoying symptom of guilt.
Charlie was a nice guy. Someone who’d had a crush on me since we were kids and who I had gone out on a few dates with.
Someone I had known deep down wasn’t the one.
Yes. I was one of those women who believed in fate and love and all the things romantic.
“I moved for my career.” I tried to justify it. Not just to her, but to my stupid guilt as well. “And it was you who encouraged me to. I mean, I’d literally sold all my stuff just to afford the move. Even my car. And you know how much I loved that car.”
“Yeah, but did you explain all that to him before you left?”
Fudge.
“You skittered off into the night on a plane and then asked me to let him down for you. I know you didn’t like him like that, but still … you should have been the one to break the news. Poor guy nearly cried when I told him.”
A frown sewed itself to my lips as I picked at a frayed string on the pillow I clutched. “Which is exactly why I couldn’t be the one to tell him. I didn’t want to hurt him.”
“Do you think it felt good, coming from your sister?”
I muttered, “No.”
There was a pause and then, “Listen, all your life, you’ve avoided any kind of confrontation. What do you think will happen at the end of this assignment? That Grayson will simply understand and smile? You’ll part ways amicably?”
Every word she spoke widened the hole I’d dug for myself. I hated that she was right. Hated even more that I was the one who had gotten myself into this by giving up his name. Everything about today was a major complication. This wasn’t how a dream coming to fruition was supposed to start off.
My head fell into my hand. “This is impossible, Hazel. I’ve already shot my career in the foot.”
/> I heard shuffling on her end and some distant muttering.
My forehead creased. “Hazel?”
“Yeah. Hang on,” I heard her shout from far away. “I’m peeing.”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. Sisters.
“Okay. I’m back.”
“Glad it all worked out for you.”
She ignored me. “If you want a shot at this, then here’s what I suggest: create rules.”
“Don’t tell me you’re going to pull out all you’ve learned in Psych 101.” A bright bubble of laughter floated to the surface of my throat, but I swallowed it down in an attempt at self-control.
“I’m serious, Prim. Think about it. Dating and men can be whittled down to a simple formula. If you have the right ingredients, then you have the right result.”
“Great. So, now, it’s a science experiment.”
“He’s a player, right?”
I gave a silent nod, not caring if she could see it or not.
“And everything we know from the tabloids is that when it gets too serious, he bails. Well, there’s your formula. You make the rules. You play hard to get. You keep him guessing. And if that isn’t enough to goad your morally pure heart,” she continued, “then think on this: Grayson isn’t an angel. Giving him a taste of his own medicine might be good for him. You could be doing him a favor. Setting him up for the right woman down the road.”
Maybe she was right. Maybe I was overthinking it. I could play hard to get. In fact, I was an expert at it. Just ask the debt collectors currently ringing through on the other line.
“I’m going to call him.”
Giddy laughter sprouted through the receiver. “Good. And don’t forget to call me with all the details.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
After hanging up, I glanced at his card and smirked. Okay, lover boy, what do you say to a game of cat and mouse?
After I entered his number, he picked up on the first ring.
“Hello, Grayson. Does the offer to meet up still stand?”
Rule Number One:
Innovate the old hard-to-get game and, well, get him.
Truth Serum
Prim
GRAYSON STOOD OUTSIDE OF THE restaurant he’d invited me to. Dressed in a pair of dark denim jeans and that same white T-shirt, he looked like he’d stepped out of an ad for cologne. Like, as if at any moment, he’d take my hand, and we’d enter the next frame of the commercial, where I’d be the passenger and he’d be driving a ridiculously expensive car at a ridiculously high rate of speed, wearing his ridiculously sexy smirk.
And I’m the one who proposed I can turn him into a stayer?
What the hell was I thinking?
His posture tightened, shoulders squaring a little more when he noticed me. Smile smoldering a few degrees hotter. Teeth gleaming wide and shiny. He was muscles and sharp angles and bedhead I wanted to delve my fingers into. My brain cells were dying off, one by one, replaced by pheromones and posters of his face. He was a living, breathing ovary-buster. That was a no-brainer, but it wasn’t what made my mouth water. No. It was what was in his hands.
My. Brand-new. Kindle.
Shiny and wrapped in a case that surely could make it through an apocalypse. I nearly squealed as I approached him, lecturing my hands to not get grabby.
But, boy, did they want to get grabby.
“You came,” he said when I stopped in front of him.
“I did.”
“Can I be honest?” he asked as he handed me the Kindle.
I took it and clutched it to my chest before placing it in my tote. “First off, thank you so much for this, Grayson. Truly. And secondly, you went out of your way to replace the most important electronic I own. You can be anything. Especially honest.”
I waited as a chuckle breezed past his lips, expecting nothing short of a cheesy pick-up line. I mean, he was a player after all. It was in his DNA to throw up the most ridiculous of—
“I just … I didn’t think you’d call.”
My rapid-fire thoughts came to a screeching halt. What’s that expression about assuming again? Oh, yeah. I’m an ass. A big, fat—wait … he thought that I wouldn’t call? Playboy Grayson? Serial-dater Grayson? Stud’s Man of the Year Grayson? It was almost laughable.
Almost because he was right.
“I suppose luck was on my side today,” he added. There was that smile again. Toothy and brilliantly curved at the corners, carving small crescents on the sides. The same smile I’d seen hundreds of times in hundreds of photos, yet somehow, it was even more arresting in person.
And it was focused straight on me.
He ran a hand through his dark hair. A few wispy strands swept across his forehead, falling perfectly while my misled expectations of him plunged to the rocky depths where I ordered them to go. The same place where I’d kicked sixteen-year-old Prim’s delusional idea of adulthood being fun.
“So … you hungry?” he asked.
I couldn’t stop the grin that took flight across my lips. “Starved.”
“I hope you like tacos. There’s this killer—”
A snort ripped from my nose, followed by a nervous hiccup. “Sorry.” The back of my hand covered my mouth as heat pressed against my cheeks. “It’s just … tacos are the literal love language of life. Having a bad day? Eat a taco. Want to give someone a gift? Give them a taco. I mean, back home, I even tried to veto the idea of Taco Tuesday with our high school cafeteria simply because it neglected all the other days of the week.” The admission pummeled past my mouth with barely a breath left, leaving me sucking in air like a fish out of water.
When I realized I’d just let a little of my crazy slip, I plastered a Barbie smile to my lips and emitted a nervous giggle.
Scaring him off was never a part of the plan.
“So, yeah … I guess I like tacos,” I followed up with, praying he wouldn’t think I was a total lunatic. “Sorry.”
He offered me another shot of his chuckle, and it slid like liquor through my veins. Warming me. Loosening me up. “Don’t be. You’re funny.” Another panty-melting grin. “I like it.”
Stop the presses.
He thought I was funny. Grayson Pierce thought I was funny. But I wasn’t. I was more awkward than funny, though I enjoyed laughing along with my awkwardness.
He leaned in, close enough to gift me with a whiff of his leathery cologne that checked off all the marks of what drove a woman crazy. I was frozen solid.
My senses went haywire when he said, “And you’re in luck because this restaurant is the taco the town.”
Oh God. Even his puns were perfect.
My lips parted, ready to hit him with an even punnier pun, when a horde of women seemed to move in like a toxic cloud. They formed around him, tossing me to the side. A giant wall of frenzied hormones and prying questions and phones pointed at him. I peered past their shoulders. He wore his trademark smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a disconnect. A subtle note of glum.
“I can’t believe Orb was right! He’s really here,” one of the women said to another. She had an enviable topknot.
Every time I tried to go for the cute topknot look, I always ended up looking like I belonged in Whoville.
“He’s so hot, isn’t he?” another woman said.
“I want to have his baby!”
“Get in line, sister.”
My head spun in ludicrous circles when I heard a faint call, “Prim!”
It was a lifeline tossed out in a growing sea of women. And like a gang of meerkats, every one of their heads spun in my direction.
Did I mention I hated attention?
My stomach clenched with panic as I tried to weed through the cluster. As bodies brushed against mine, closing me in, vacuuming what little air was left for me to breathe. All vying to get a piece of Grayson Pierce. They were harpies, and I was one shove away from grabbing one of them by the—
Grayson took my ha
nd in his. “Don’t worry. I got you.”
Five words and one small touch were all it took to return the air to my lungs. Everything dulled around us, disappearing, as if his hand were the centermost point of the universe. As long as I stayed connected to it, I’d never find myself lost again.
Brassy notes of lively music swam past us when we stepped inside the restaurant. Earthy spices and the smoky scent of wood smoldering permeated the air. It was a quaint place with self-seating. Black and white tiles adorned the walls with large wooden chalkboards illustrating the life of a taco. He pointed to a table, and then we made our way over.
“Sorry about that,” he said after we sat. “I tried to avoid being spotted, but I guess I wasn’t careful enough.”
“Is it always like that?”
It was then I noticed the fatigue in his eyes, the autumn color dulled to a dismal hue. “It gets overwhelming sometimes.” He held his phone out, pointing to the page he’d pulled up. Sure enough, a new article had been posted by Orb. It read, Spotted: Grayson Pierce Out on the Town.
My eyebrow dipped. “Well, when you’re Grayson Pierce, I suppose it’s to be expected.”
There was that chuckle again. “You know, you don’t have to call me by both names. Grayson works just fine.”
Roses bloomed in my cheeks. “Sorry.”
His head wavered to the side. “You apologize a lot.”
“I do?” A nervous giggle. “Sor—” My hand shot to my mouth again. Laughter, somewhat manic and fluttery, ripped out of me before I could contain it. There was no pinpointing the why. Whether it was his hand touching mine, the nervous state of being near him, or my sudden awareness of how reflexive it was for me to say the lone word, it didn’t matter.
A second later, a waitress sidled up to the table. The moment her eyes took in Grayson, her smile widened. “Can I get you guys anything to drink?”
“What do you like to drink, Prim?” Grayson asked.
There it was again—the soluble way he said my name, as if he held it on the tip of his tongue like a sugar cube, letting it slowly dissolve.
Love in the Headlines: A Star-Crossed Friends-To-Lovers Romance (Love in the Headlines Series Book 1) Page 4