“You only did it so you could be my insufferable boss.”
I smile. Gabe’s got me there.
“And,” he adds, “I took the job because no one else would tolerate you.”
“I’m a gem,” I fire back.
“You’re Grumps McGrump. Every hour of every day. I’ve taken every shit assignment, put out your dumpster fires, and said thank you, sir, may I have another. Your bazillion-dollar security shop headaches have somehow turned into a well-oiled machine.”
He’s right. The past week without him has been a nightmare.
I let out a huff and give in. “Fine. A solid maybe. But if this involves a crypto investment or grunt labor, you’re on your own, bro.”
“Not all labor is bad.”
I already don’t like the amusement in his tone. I sip slowly. “What kind of labor is it?”
“How do you feel about selling yourself? Tastefully, of course.”
I freeze mid-sip. “What?”
“It’s for a good cause.”
I tilt my chin up and exhale hard. “Please tell me this isn’t another round of me, a fake profile, and your creative interpretation of client acquisition.”
“Ooh,” he says. “So close.”
CHAPTER 2
Harrison
“Gabe, I swear to God, if you made another Tinder profile with my name and a bare-chested bodybuilder avatar, I will personally end you.”
“I was trying to help. Get you back in the saddle.”
“You failed.”
The last thing I need is a comeback tour.
Though, a single night dedicated to showcasing my severely underutilized skill set to a voluptuous woman has a certain appeal.
“Failure is a harsh term.” Gabe shifts from offense to defense. “You’re the one who said you like women, and I quote, ‘natural.’”
“I meant not overly made up… not smuggling two baby Wookies under each armpit.”
Gabe snorts. “Wookies?”
Is he kidding me? I swear, this kid is a heathen. “You know, the big, furry guy in Star Wars.”
He snorts louder.
“It’s was a full-on code three yeti alert. In spaghetti straps.” I shiver as he chokes on a laugh. “One tried to make eye contact with me. Through the hair, Gabe. Through the hair.”
He wheezes, dying on the other end. “Just broadening your horizons.”
“Broadening my trauma is more like it.”
Our laughter dies, and I steer us back to the reason for his call. “So, what’s the favor?”
