Page 20 of Fool Me

She needed to focus on older memories—memories of consoling Trish, Abby, and Carly as Grant obliterated each of their hearts in turn. Memories of them crumpled over and in tears, unable to concentrate on their classes. Trish almost lost her scholarship. Abby gained ten pounds of ice cream weight and forced them all to watchBridget’s Diaryat least a dozen times. Carly hated herself for having seen the pattern with Trish and Abby and still falling for him. She’d needed therapy to get her self-esteem back. “Guys like Grant are a plague on the earth,” Sadie had told them each, putting her Great Aunt Lydia’s phrase to good use. “Get a dog instead.”

Then Grant had gone and stolenherfirst love, theater, for his own. When she thought about it like that, what had happened in that bar was exactlywhyshe was taking Grant down—because men like him get everything their hearts desire just by showing up.

She looked Monique dead in the eyes. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

So why did she feel so crappy about it?

13

On Sunday morning, Grant’s phone woke him with insistent pinging notifications. He rolled over and put it on mute. It had to be blowing up with texts and tweets about his California mud wrestling debut, but the details of that night didn't belong to anyone but Sadie and him. Besides, looking at the pictures would force him to think about what the evening might—or might not—have meant to Sadie. For his own emotional safety, he would keep those thoughts at bay until he had fully woken…and had some coffee…and painted a masterpiece or penned the next great American novel…

Perhaps a run would be a good distraction? A trip to the grocery store? His phone buzzed, and his blood solidified in his veins. It was probably Julia, furious over how well the second date had gone. What could he tell her this time to stay in her good graces? But when he picked it up, he saw it wasn’t Julia at all, but her agent, Ronny.

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” Ronny said, “but keep doing it. Your fan base is quadrupling by the minute.”

“It is?”

“Have you not been online?”

“I…try not to spend too much time there. And, anyway, I’m not doing anything. It’s all her.”

“First off, garbage, and second, I’m notheragent.”

Grant’s brow furrowed. “You’re not my agent either.”

“Which is why I’m calling,” Ronny replied. “Whatever your current agent can do for you, you know I can do more.”

Grant’s jaw slackened. His agent was reasonably helpful when he managed to get ahold of her, but even reaching her receptionist could prove a Herculean feat. Quantity over quality appeared to be Aileen’s motto. She had too many clients and didn’t give Grant, or probably anyone, enough individual attention. Ronny, on the other hand, probably went to lunches and parties with all the big producers near daily. He also knew all the hottest talent personally, if they weren’t already under his wing. In other words, even lack of attention from Ronny would mean more to Grant’s career than nightly foot rubs from Aileen.

“Are you offering to be my agent? Me?” he asked.

“And…” Ronny said, pausing for effect and using his characteristic singsong voice, “…the first thing we’ll tackle are your business skills. Tell me, do you work a room by walking up to everyone there and telling them how much better they are than you?”

Grant grimaced. How many times had he done exactly that? “So…Ishouldn’tdo that?”

Ronny laughed. “They make ‘em pretty in Ohio, but not so savvy. When my people send you my contract to sign, you’ll also be getting a copy of my book,How to Ditch Friends and Win Influencers.”

“I’ll read it, I promise,” Grant said. He closed his eyes. First Julia, and now Ronny, were telling him he was naïve.

“There will be a test,” Ronny said. “Meanwhile, whatever magic is happening between you and Fake Julia on these dates, keep it going.”

At the word ‘magic,’ memories of the previous night tumbled into Grant’s reluctant consciousness like rainbow-hued paint thrown onto a blank canvas. Despite his prior attempts to repress those thoughts, he smiled. He had pulledtheSadie Heppner—perfect from head to toe—into a giant, sticky mud pit. He’d helped her play it up to the crowd, and she’d let him. She’d even joined in the laughter at his stupid antics. Best of all, she’d pinned him to the floor.

I might keep you down there forever, Mister Grant Mason.

And I might let you.

And he’d meant it. What was a lifetime in mud if Sadie was there to keep him company?

But, as simple as that equation had been for him, his reply appeared to startle her. She’d spun her upper body around to face him and, for the first time since she’d stumbled into his dorm room, her gaze had fully locked on his. Mud matted her signature curls, and the unearthly glow of her skin was caked with actual, sticky earth, but her beauty still rivaled anyone who’d ever walked the red carpet in the fanciest of ball gowns.

Her crystal blue eyes, blinking out from grey mud, had been tender and questioning, and he’d never wanted the moment to end. Had something shifted between them last night? Had she finally seen a different side of him than whatever horrible sides she has seen until now? Only the next date would tell. Grant’s heart clenched in his chest as he realized it would be the final date.

“I’ll certainly try to keep it going,” Grant said to Ronny, “but if these dates are helping my visibility so much, maybe we could do an extra one or two? I mean, as my future agent, don’t you think so?”

Ronny made a resigned clicking noise with his mouth. “That’d be fine with me, but for some reason, these dates have got Julia in knots. She’d split a seam if I even suggested a fourth. Are you sure you and Julia aren’tactuallydating?”

“We’re not, I swear. There was just that one accidental kiss when she was tipsy.”

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