Page 15 of The Companion Love Trap

“Here. You’re not supposed to know this upfront, but this is the guy. He’s some brilliant tech inventor with a resting Grinch face. The tea is that he needs to convince investors he’s a relationship man. Hence the fake date.”

“How did your sister discover all of this?” I asked, feeling like Julie was trying too hard to get me to agree. What was in this for her?

“She had to sign an NDA, but she’d already been texting me about it, and I didn’t sign an NDA.” She shrugged, scrolling through her phone.

I glanced at the picture of the man she’d pulled up, my breath halting in my throat as I took him in. I’d expected a homely older man who wanted to impress his colleagues. Not some blond-haired, blue-eyed GQ model. I bit my lip as my eyes bugged out. Shit, he was gorgeous. Grumpy, but gorgeous.

“I know, right?” Julie giggled. “Evidently, he has an Irish accent, too.” She fanned herself, dropping her phone into my hands as a customer hailed her.

My eyes focused on the picture, something shifting in my soul as I stared at the man. He did have a prickly exterior; his vibe clearly meant to keep people away. But his eyes held something in them I recognized—fear, loneliness, and hope.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I forwarded the ad to myself, locked her phone, and jumped back into helping customers. The hours dragged as I waited for my shift to end so I could fill out the application. My phone felt like a lead weight in my pocket, the need to do something itching under my skin.

“Here you go, sir,” I said, handing off the millionth drink I’d made. I’d quit seeing the faces of the customers hours ago, so lost in my head as I thought over the ad in detail and what it would mean for me.

“Sir? Ouch. Do I look that old?” a smooth and playful voice asked. Goosebumps exploded across my skin, my heart hitching a beat at the sound. Interesting.

My eyes flicked up to meet hazel eyes that glittered with gold. Thick auburn hair swooped over one side of his head, falling into one eye. His jawline was sharp and clean-shaven, giving his pouty lips full attention. This guy had to be somewhere in his early thirties, with barely a wrinkle in sight on his handsome face.

“Some men like it when I call them sir,” I answered before I could stop myself. An attractive guy was standing in front of me; it was unavoidable. His pupils dilated slightly, his bottom lip curving up on the side. His eyes dragged over me, and he licked his lips before he met my eyes again.

“You’re right. I think I’d let you call me anything, firecracker, but I’d much prefer you scream out Jace.” He smirked. I liked it.

“Is that so?” I leaned closer, my body thriving off his energy. “And how do I know you’re not all talk?”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly before he took a sip of his coffee, his eyes zeroed in on me. His tongue darted out to lick off the foam, the substance resting on the tip as he drew it back into his mouth before peeking out again to catch a dribble of espresso. I’d never been so turned on by watching someone drink their coffee.

“Oh, I think you know I’m not all talk, firecracker. I’ll be seeing you.”

He winked before he pivoted on his heels, displaying his perfectly sculpted butt in his black jeans. I was so hypnotized by his ass it didn’t hit me until after the bell rang as the door shut that he hadn’t asked for my number.

“I guess it’s too much to ask for the pretty ones to be smart, too.” I sighed, imagining what the chemistry would’ve been like between us. Fanning myself, I decided that was not an image I needed to conjure while working.

“You’re good to go, Everly!” Sam, the manager, said.

I jumped, having gotten lost staring out the door. I hadn’t even noticed it was past the time for me to leave.

“Kay, thanks,” I said, untying my apron and heading to the time clock to punch out. Julie lifted her brows, mouthing, “Fill it out” as I passed, and I nodded.

The fire I’d been feeling earlier returned, and I plopped down on a table in the corner as I pulled out my laptop and brought up the ad. Writing an answer to the question that the only comic book character I wanted to be was myself, I sent my answer and contact information to the email listed and sat back, smiling. I had a good feeling about this.

When a reply appeared five minutes later, I almost couldn’t believe my luck.

Everly,

Thank you for your interest in the ad. Interviews will be held at the Mango Hotel bar from 5-7 today. This is the last round before we make our decision. We hope to see you there.

Sincerely,

J. Caldwell

Tossing all of my stuff back into my bag, I hoisted my duffle up and headed to the door, going through a list in my head of where I could change and freshen up. With a destination in mind, I set off, a pep in my step I hadn’t had in a few weeks. This could be the start of the new Everly—thirty and flirty. It had a nice ring to it.

There wasn’t a how-to guide on being a companion, so I had no clue how to dress. Should I look professional? Dress like the girl they wanted as a companion? Or wear what I wanted?

In the end, I went with a mixture of all three, mainly because my wardrobe was limited at the moment, with most of my belongings in storage. Donning a white lacey tank, a thin cardigan, and some red high-waisted shorts with a floral print, I was ready to tackle this interview in my killer sandals.

Strolling into the hotel bar, I felt like a million bucks as I surveyed the crowd. The email hadn’t said who to ask for, so I did a sweep as I took in all the guests. Most of the people in the bar were in pairs, making it clear they were enjoying some drinks before whatever the night held for them. I eliminated a few others based on their attire, noting the touristy and fish-out-of-water look they had going on, which left me with three possibilities.

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