Holy hell, what just happened in there?
I let out a heavy breath when I get to my car, grasping the steering wheel with both hands. I’ve been doing this for years, and I’m not exaggerating when I say I have never met a man who could make my brain glitch likethat.
Of course, Aaron had to be hotter than a fucking five alarm fire. He is most definitely not a crypto basement dweller trying to appease his pushy parents. He’s a tall glass of fucking glacierwater, and the voice definitely matches the man. I swear, he’s like something straight out of one of my romance novels.
Tall, dark, handsome. And I was right, heisin his forties. Forty-two, to be exact, which is still kind of shocking to me because he doesn’t look that old. If I had to guess without hislolcomment, I would’ve pegged him at early thirties. His skin is practically flawless and he definitely takes pride in his looks. That much I can tell by the expertly trimmed beard and styled hair as well as his sophisticated, laid back slacks and polo shirt.
But it wasn’t just his looks that had my brain melting, it was that voice. That smile. Oh fuck, thatsmile.I could see that smile getting me into lots of trouble, if I’m not careful.
And just like last night, the banter was so easy and fun and felt more natural than it usually does when I meet with clients.
Most of my clients get uptight or awkward when we craft our story, assign our roles, but Aaron—Aaron riffed with me like we were on an episode of Saturday Night Live.
He was a natural, and though I was kidding a few times, I think we actually fabricated a pretty sound cover.
And even though some of it was by design, it seemed like there were also some parts of truth in the air too.
He asked if I was single. I told myself it was just small talk. It’s not like the other guys I’ve dated professionally haven’t asked me the same thing. I think people like to assume because I’m a professional date, that my dance card is full to the brim, but they couldn’t be more wrong. I wish they were. Sometimes I think they ask out of curiosity, but other times, I think they ask because they don’t want to feel guilty about kissing me or touching me if I’m with someone, even though I know some of my past dateslikethat fantasy. One date in particular stands out, but I try not to think about my naivete when it came to those early years at Foxy’s. I guess the one thing about Garrett was that I learned not everyone tells the truth, and roles are moreimportant to iron out than you think. Had I been a little more detached and treated my date with Garrett like I treat my dates now, I probably could have prevented feeling like shit when his boyfriend found us in the middle of things. Off the clock, of course.
Then I wasn’t so keen to keep my guard up with clients. I was young. It was four years ago. I was barely twenty for God’s sake, I know I need to cut myself some slack.
I turn the car on, cue up my Spotify and pop on myThis Is Taylorplaylist, needing to center myself and breathe.
I’d asked Aaron to dinner if only because I know we both need to get comfortable with one another, and I didn’t want to start touching the guy and making out with him at breakfast, no matter how hot he was. This isn’t some romance novel chock full of the insta-love trope. This is my life, and Aaron is a human being. A veryhothuman being, but still. We did onlyjustmeet, and while we may have to do this on short notice with not much to go off of, I’m still going to take this job as seriously as I would take any other. That means I’m going to try my best to give Aaron the boyfriend treatment he’s asking me for.
He wants Prince Charming, I will give him Prince Charming. I will be an absolute gentleman, even if my cock is protesting at me to forgo pleasantries and whisk this man to the nearest closet like he’d so flirtatiously suggested last night.
As soon as the notes ofStylecut through the speakers, I relax and take a deep breath. “You can do this, Jake. It’s just like any other job.”
Only it’snot.It’s three grand, and this client is like some perfect mash up of all my book boyfriends.
Seriously, where has Chris been hiding this pure chunk of man meat?
I make my way to the store, knowing if I do indeed have a date this evening—and I am considering our pre-date part of theactual date—I need to get as much done as I can get before I have to get ready. This was originally my day off, and while I’m going to be missing Penny’s book launch atThe Loft, I am going to be on a date with a leading man who feels like he could be the star of one of her books, so I guess it’s not that bad of a trade off. Maybe if I have time, I can swing byThe Loftto see if they’ll give me my pre-order early. Probably not, but I’m a frequent flyer there along with Bella, so it never hurts to ask…
I’m just pulling up into the grocery store parking lot when my phone goes off with a video ring.
I take it without a second thought, knowing who it is because not many people have my cell and only one person actually video chats with me.
“What’s up?” I say as the phone connects to a face identical to mine.
The only difference between my brother and I, truly, is our style. Outside of his suits and nice clothes he wears on dates, he’s constantly in band tees and ripped jeans and bright white sneakers; looking every bit like a model twenty-four year old. I prefer my jeans to be tighter, not so loose fitting, and I certainly try to avoid rips, tears, and frays. Aside from my Taylor Swift concert shirts and merch, my normal is a solid white tee and sweats, unless I’m meeting up with people. Then I’ll put on a nice button down and roll the sleeves up, like I did today when I met with Aaron. I learned early on, that people are more apt to feel comfortable and open if I’m dressed casually, but I also want to look professional so they know I take this gig—and their money— seriously.
Noah’s face peers back at me, and I notice he’s wearing one of his hats, backward as usual. I’ve never been a fan of hats. I hate how sweaty they make my head, but my brother practically has them stitched to his head.
“Where are you?” he asks. No hi, hello, how are you, Jake? Just his normal, laissez faire attitude.
“Out,” I say as he falls onto a couch that looks all too familiar. My couch.
“Dude, it’s, like, barely noon. Where the fuck are you this early? I was hoping we could get breakfast.”
I let out a heavy sigh, feeling like shit for getting annoyed with him, but also annoyed I feel annoyed at all.
It’s not like I have to run my entire life by my brother or anything, but he’s usually aware of my off days since we share a calendar and all. I learned early on, it was best to keep one another abridged of our professional dates, so we didn’t show up in the same place and cause an issue.
After we both showed up for our dates at the same place and his date thought I was him, when I was clearly kissing a woman who wasn’t her…
Well, let’s just say Foxy had a field day and demanded we work out a system to keep that sort of thing from happening again, and it’s been fool proof ever since.
