Page 84 of The Boyfriend Goal

I smile even though I don’t feel it as much inside. It’s nice to be wanted, but wanting won’t get me to stay.

The next day after work, I take off for a girls’ night out with Maeve and Fable. I invited Everly, but of course she’s traveling with the team and they don’t return till Saturday night so she can’t join us.

When I meet up with my friends by Patricia’s Green in Hayes Valley, a cute little park and playground, I’m giddy to share my news. Is it news though? Nothing has actually happened, but still after hugs and hellos, I spill the beans: “I’m looking into a grant extension and searching for a job to see if I can stay.”

With her wild, blonde-streaked hair framing her pale face, Maeve gazes heavenward to the starlit November sky, pressing her palms together. “My prayers are answered. She’ll be here, goddess. She’ll be here.”

“First, I love that you pray to the goddess,” I say.

“Who else would she pray to?” Fable asks dryly.

“Exactly. And second,” I say, frowning, as reality kicks me in the ass again, “it’s a long shot. But I’m trying.”

Fable squeezes my arm. “That’s how you start. Maybe there will be something perfect for you.”

Librarian jobs aren’t easy to come by, and they don’t pay gobs. I know librarians a few years older than I am who work a couple part-time library jobs in the hopes of landing a full-time one with benefits. But you never know.

“We’ll see what happens,” I say, and since I don’t love hogging the attention, I make a shooing gesture to Hayes Street. “Let’s start.”

We’re doing a photo scavenger hunt together. Rather than competing against each other, though, we’re working in tandem. If we check off all the items in two hours, we’ll get cake. This is the kind of team-building activity that calls my name.

I click on the list on my notes app since I planned it. I’m kind of the friend group social director. I start the clock.

“First one. Mirror selfie in a fancy bathroom,” I say, then swivel around, tapping my chin as I scan the surroundings, catching the facade of a sleek, modern building a few blocks away. “How about The Resort hotel? That place is five stars.”

Maeve nudges me. “Which you know since you were there.”

I smile smugly, a fond filthy memory sashaying past me of the night Wes and I spent in that hotel. The way he manhandled me in bed, giving me exactly what I’d learned that night I craved—a man to toss me around and eat me out.

“And it was quite a night,” I say with a throaty rumble. “I’ve given this hotel five out of five for…being a wingwoman.”

“My boss owns that hotel,” Fable puts in, so nonchalant as we walk through the evening crowd on Hayes Street toward The Resort.

“Ma’am, excuse me,” Maeve says, whipping her gaze to Fable. “My boss owns that? I’m gonna need details.”

“He owns it. Not me. But this shouldn’t be a surprise since I do work for”—Fable stops and lowers her voice to a conspiratorial whisper—“a billionaire.”

Color me intrigued. “Tell me more about this billionaire boss. Is he hot? Ripped? Does he want to bend you over the desk?”

Fable swats my arm. “I’m dating someone.Steven, you know,” she says a little primly, mentioning thebartendershe started seeing a few months ago. “So the answer is no.”

“No, your boss is not hot because you’re dating someone else?” I ask with a doubtful arch of an eyebrow. “That doesn’t add up.”

Maeve pffts. “Oh, he’s hot all right. I’ve seen pics of Wilder Blaine,” she says, mentioning Fable’s boss, who owns the city’s Renegades football team and some hotels, as well as some green energy businesses. “Pretty sure he’s San Francisco’s most eligible billionaire. And sexiest. The man is rough-around-the-edges hot in a tailored suit.”

“Well, tell me more, Maeve,” I tease.

“I’m just saying. Fable needs to open her eyes.”

As we reach the chichi hotel, Fable relents a bit with, “Yes, empirically, Wilder Blaine is good-looking, but I can’t think of him that way since he’s my boss. Also, hello!I’m seeing someone.”

“You’re not denying your boss is hot,” I add, because it’s fun to rile her up.

“Speak of the devil,” Maeve whispers out of the corner of her mouth as we walk into the lobby, its mirrored walls reflecting the opulent chandeliers above. “Her hot-ass billionaire boss is walking our way at twelve o’clock.”

As if we’ve summoned him, a tall, dark-haired man with a chiseled jaw, ink on his knuckles, and an intensity in his eyes strides across the hotel lobby. When he spots Fable, something flickers in his gaze. It’s more than recognition. It’s awareness. Interest maybe?

He stops at my redhead friend. “Evening, Fable. How’s everything? Are you staying here tonight? I can comp you a room.”

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