Page 114 of Force a Date

“Come with me,” I tell her, dropping the clothes in my hands back into my dresser before walking toward her. “You have nothing here.”

“I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Girl, you’re smart as fuck. You were an assistant to that asshole who money laundered and got shut down.”

Mia gives me an exasperated look. “I don’t think that’s going to look good on a résumé.”

“Then leave the money laundering bit out,” I reply with a dismissive wave of my hand. “You love the water. And there are a ton of guys out there.”

“It’s expensive.”

“Not in Eureka. The place I’m renting is eight-fifty. It’s less than what we’re paying here in the middle of Shitville.”

Mia averts her eyes. “Liv, I know you’re super excited about this?—”

“I am,” I reply flatly. “I need a new start. I have to be happy for Rory or I’m fucked. Hudson doesn’t want kids. I got one. So, if you think he’s a contender in this story, he’s not. He was just a really good fuck and someone to talk about now.”

Mia frowns, slicing her honey browns back to me. “You don’t mean all that.” I quirk a brow because, sure, I’m still upset about our short-lived romance—if you even want to call it that—but I’m not going to wallow and eat a pint of ice cream either. “Okay, you mean that.”

I smile because Mia has shifted and changed over the course of three years because of her father’s bullshit. He killed a woman in a car accident because he was intoxicated, and it hit Mia really hard.

“Me and you…in California. Honestly, Mia…what sounds better than that?”

“Nothing,” she blurts. “But I don’t have a job lined up?—”

“We’ll get you a job.”

She glances at my bed, with several suitcases on it, and sighs. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

Her eyes find mine again. “Then let’s become California girls.”

“The Beach Boy edition,” I retort with a chuckle. “Not Katy Perry.”

“Speak for yourself.”

thirty-four

. . .

HUDSON

Something’s up.

The guys have been whispering all fucking day like a bunch of little schoolgirls with a crush on the new guy and it’s been driving me crazy.

It’s closing time, and everyone is packing up and cleaning their shit—or they were until they huddled in the hallway and began their mumbling crap again—and I’ve had enough.

“What the fuck are you assholes muttering about?” I clip out, actually making Miles jump a little bit since his back is to me, and the rest glance over like I just caught them with their hands in the cookie jar.

“Why are you sneaking up on people?” Winslow accuses me, which is the first sign of evading my question.

“When they’re actin’ weird as hell and have been doing it all fucking day…” He rolls his eyes at me and looks back to Devin, while Devin glimpses to Miles who only shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Well?”

“We’re going out,” Miles states, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and looking suspicious as hell.

“Alright,” I drone. “So, it’s either Winslow is doing shit he shouldn’t be doing or you three are about to get into trouble that might get you called off at work.”

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