Faking Ms. Right (Dirty Martini Running Club, #1)

by Claire Kingsley

Martini Mondays. Taco Tuesdays. Wine Wednesdays. Thirsty Thursdays. Fast-food Fridays (don’t judge).

After the champagne and the Manhattan, I was in danger of bypassing a little tipsy and heading straight for telling inappropriate stories and asking strangers for hugs. Not that I’d ever done that before. Okay, yes I had.

Ethan let out a long breath. “So you’re not dying?” “No, it’ll take more than an angry prostate to put me down.

We stared at each other, like we were both shocked at our own outbursts. And our copious dropping of f-bombs. He cleared his throat and adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’ll pay you.” Damn right he was going to pay me.

“Richard Gere was sleeping with Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman,” Nora said. “Yeah, but he picked her up on a street corner,” I said. “She was an actual prostitute.” Nora shrugged. “If he wanted to go down on me on a piano, I’d do it.” “For money?” Hazel asked. “That’s illegal.” “No, I just mean in general,” Nora said. “Have you seen Everly’s boss? God, he’s exquisite. I’d let him do whatever he wanted to me.” Hazel’s brow creased. “I thought you were talking about Richard Gere.” Nora shrugged.

This wasn’t helping me sleep, and I had to work tomorrow. What was I supposed to say to him? Sorry I dozed off during the meeting, I was up late contemplating your body hair.

Why did this botanical something-or-other strawberry-scented shampoo do it for me? I had no idea, but my dick was waking up.

Nora had been wrong about catching feelings. There was no catching involved. They smashed into me, shattering into my soul with a million tiny sparks, filling me with a warm tingly sensation. He turned back, meeting my gaze, a disarming openness in his eyes. Right there, in that exact moment, I did a terrible, terrible thing. I fell in love with my boss.

Nora’s eyes were practically glittering with excitement. “So how long have you been fucking him?” “You say that as if it’s a foregone conclusion,” Hazel said. “Because it is,” Nora said. “You were standing right there. Don’t you study this stuff for a living?”

“He likes the way you smell, too,” Nora said. “What? How do you know?” “Didn’t you see the way he leaned closer to you?” she asked. “He was totally indulging in a whiff.”

Hazel: Do we need to bring dates to the party? Nora: Why wouldn’t we bring dates? Me: You just asked me to invite more single men and you plan to bring a date too? Nora: I like having options.

He chuckled. I’d just told him I’d been lying to him. That made him laugh? “What are you laughing about?” “Oh, son.” He tossed back the rest of his whiskey. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, you will soon.” “Figured what out?” “You’re in love with that girl.”

Nora and Hazel gave each another look—one of those we’re secretly communicating something looks. “Will you two stop that? I’m not done wallowing.”

“Everly,” he said, his voice soft and low. “I love you. Please come home.”