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

by Claire Kingsley

We stared at each other, like we were both shocked at our own outbursts. And our copious dropping of f-bombs.

I opened my mouth to reply and had a sudden out-of-body experience. It was like I was floating, looking down into Shepherd’s office from above. Listening to someone else talk. “All right. I’ll do it.”

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.

We frantically tore off our clothes and I made sure to grab the condom out of my wallet.

He had a condom in his wallet but he didn’t have it in the car?

“What are you doing now?” “I was thinking about taking a bath, but I could do something else.” “No, take the bath.” He started cuffing the sleeves of his button-down shirt. “I want to watch.”

It wasn’t pain to me, so much as raw intensity. Every bite and scratch cut through my emotional paralysis and made me feel.

I kissed her because, in that moment, there was nowhere else I’d rather be, nothing else I’d rather be doing. And no one else I’d rather be doing it with.

“Just promise me one thing,” he said. I sat up and brushed more tears off my face. “What?” “If and when you get a new job, help me find your replacement. I’m trying to be the mature professional here, but I’m actually not sure how I’d ever live without you.”

“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.”

“That’s the thing about love, though. If you never open yourself up to the risk of being hurt, you’ll never give someone the chance to get close enough to love you back.

Nora and Hazel had called it. They knew me too well—knew I’d fall for my boss. And I hadn’t just fallen. I’d tumbled over the side of a cliff. But now I realized there wasn’t anyone at the bottom to catch me.

“Don’t you have to work, too?” I asked, glancing at Ethan. “I took the day off.” “Why?” His brow furrowed, as if I’d just asked a stupid question. He pointed at me, tracing his finger up and down. “Because this.”

I still felt awful—the ache in my chest refused to go away—but having my friends here to help me pick up the pieces of my heart and glue them back together was priceless.

It made me want to call Shepherd to tell him the news. I had a momentary fantasy of coming home to his condo. Bursting in the door to find him waiting for me. I’d run into his arms and he’d scoop me up and hug me tight. Whisper in my ear that he was proud of me.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything. I didn’t call because I needed to do this in person.” “Do what?” He looked up, meeting my eyes. “Tell you that it wasn’t fake. Not for me.”

“Everly,” he said, his voice soft and low. “I love you. Please come home.” My eyes stung with tears and I squeezed them shut. Relief poured through me. He’d said it. It was real. Shepherd Calloway loved me.

He wrapped me in his strong arms and lifted me off my feet. “Congratulations,” he whispered into my ear. “I’m so proud of you.”

The corner of Shepherd’s mouth hooked in a little grin and he leaned down to kiss me. I caught his lower lip between my teeth and bit down, just hard enough to get him to grunt. “I’m going to fuck you so hard for that later,” he growled in my ear. “Promise?”

I wound my arms around his waist and smiled up at him. To most people, Shepherd Calloway was a focused and unemotional businessman. But I was the lucky girl who got to see the real Shepherd. The guy on the inside. That guy was all mine.

It had been six months since Miami. Since Shepherd had said those six magical words. Not three. The I love you had been important, but only half of what I’d needed to hear. The second half, please come home, had meant just as much.

“Everly, you have the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. And I’m about to ask you to give it to me, forever. All I have to give you in return is mine, which, to be perfectly honest, isn’t enough. But I love you with every bit of it—with every piece of my soul. Will you marry me?”

All it had taken was a gold-digging ex-girlfriend, a parent in crisis, a sister looking for a sperm donor, a fake relationship, some awkward bed-sharing, a stupidly huge diamond, and some strawberry shampoo to crack that man open.

And now we were going to spend the rest of our lives together. Happy. Loved. And a little bit kinky. After all, who could resist biting her brand-new-not-fake-fiancé’s bottom lip when it made him growl like a predator? Not this girl.