Page 10 of Never Say Yes To Your Best Friend (I said Yes)

I stand up and walk out with as much dignity as I can muster, with crab legs sticking out a foot from my bag. This whole thing has gone so far down the pooper.

Unfortunately, I have to call a cab. I’m still wearing the wig, and it itches like hell. I want to tear it off, but not until I can get into the backseat of a car and make my getaway. I’m not going to stand here with a wig cap on and crab legs sticking out at weird angles from my bag.

Come to think of it, using my purse as a to-go bag was probably the worst idea of the whole night, and that’s really saying something. I can’t imagine the smell of crab is easy to get out of leather.

Fuck.

If I’ve ruined my favorite purse, I’m going to be beyond sad.

I have to dig past the crab legs to get my phone out to even call for a cab.

Unbelievably, Mr. You Know Who blasts through the front doors.

Shit.

He has thatwe’re so far from finished with this conversationexpression on his face.

So I do the only logical thing I can think of and make threats of my own. “Don’t come near me!” I brandish my phone. “I’ll scream. I’ll scream, and it will be embarrassing for you. I’llscream that you’re trying to touch my crab legs, and no one will have any idea what it really means, but they’ll think it’s something perverted.”

“You work atGlamorous Pudding in Twenty-Seven Flavors.I don’t really understand the company name because it looks like they currently have ninety-nine, but be that as it may—”

My mouth drops open. “What the hell, dude? Are you some kind of human supercomputer? How did you know that?”

“Uh, my phone and your name. The internet comes up with pretty much anything in a matter of seconds. You’re in the marketing and research department, and your name is all over the place.”

“So what? You’re going to act like a spoiled, spurned child and get me fired just because I’m not going to play along with your scheme?” I have my phone in my hand. I switch it to the voice memo, press record, and hold it up. “Go right ahead. Let’s record this for our mutual protection.”

He shrugs, looking so casual now. Casually evil, more like. His eyes flash with way too much delight. “I just wanted to say that I love pudding. I love pudding so much. I love puddingextra. I’m actually a fiend for pudding. That’s all. Goodnight.”

Then, he walks away.

Just like that.

He freaking turns his back and leaves me standing there with my crab legs purse and my phone raised all threateningly in the air. My mouth is gaping open. I probably look like a bit of a wild child, and that’s the nicest term I can think of to describe myself.

How could anyone turn pudding into a threat? But that sounded like one. It sounded far more likeI love pudding, and by the way, you haven’t seen the last of me.

The worst part of all this is that when I spin around to watch Mont leave, my eyes shoot straight to his ass. Why do men’s dress pants always have to make their asses look so freakinggood? Mont’s, especially. He has a ten out of ten rear end, and even in the dark, I can’t stop myself from gaping over it.

Call a taxi and get back to Gen’s. This has now become about damage control.

I finally lower my arm and turn the voice recording off. My finger hovers over the delete button, but for some reason, I don’t hit it. Instead, my mind goes down the illicit, dark tunnel of replaying that deep, rumbly voice saying that he’s a fiend for pudding, and my legs get a little bit of a watery feeling.

For the love of crab legs in a purse. Really?

Ugh. No, not really.

I call a cab and vow to delete the voice memo as soon as I get into the backseat. I’ll tear off the wig, look up how to get the smell of seafood out of just about anything, and then plan what I’m going to tell Gen about this disaster, including that vague-ass threat about pudding at the end.

Mont isn’t really rich enough to buy out an entire pudding empire just to prove a point, right?

No freaking way. Never. It’s not possible.

Or is it?

Chapter four

Mont

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