Page 3 of Scout
A minute later, she replies.
Juniper: Yeah. Watching trash TV with Mom. She’s already tipsy. Thanks again for today <3
I stare at the little heart emoji for a second longer than I should, then lock my phone and lean back.
Guess it’s time to get my Armani out of the garment bag and schedule a cleaning.
This Saturday, I’ve got a date with Dr. Heartbreaker. And I plan on looking like a goddamn dream.
2
Kendrix
This is a bad idea.I know it. Iknowit.
Hiring a date to make my ex jealous? Petty. Messy. Straight-up immature. But I’ve tried everything else, and nothing worked. Xavier’s a damn fortress—locked up, bolted shut, and cold as hell unless he’s inside me or kissing me like we mean something. And I want more than just being his fuck buddy.
I love him. Hell, I’ve loved him for over a year now. But you know what they say about loving something… you let it go. So three weeks ago, I did.
No contact. No late-night visits. No more pretending I’m okay with stolen kisses and surface-level conversation. I want a partner, not just a good fuck. I want tomatter.
Which is exactly why I’m pulling up to this overpriced restaurant-slash-hotel tonight with a date I paid for. Foxy’s, the elite rent-a-date agency. Discreet, exclusive, professional.
Scout was the best-looking guy on the site by a mile. His profile says he loves to make exes jealous or show up to familyfunctions with a new long-term boo. Good to know he knows how to perform.
My tires hiss as I brake, pulling up to our meeting spot. And there he is.
Scout.
He’s standing just outside of the building like a scene out of a damn movie. Navy blue suit, that slouchy Armani fit that screams money and good tailoring. But it’s the tie that hits me hardest—deep navy with red and pink florals, bold without trying too hard, as if he knows exactly how hot he looks. It shouldn’t work, but somehow it really does. Paired with a matching pocket square and a silver clip, it’s flashy in the best way.
I step out, smooth my hands down the front of my black tux, and round the car.
“Scout?” I ask, holding out my hand.
His face is all sharp lines and soft edges—square jaw with perfectly trimmed stubble. His hair is short, golden blond, styled like he spent fifteen minutes pretending he didn’t try at all. It’s textured, a little tousled, as if someone just ran their fingers through it—and somehow, it looks better that way.
He’s hot.The kind of hot that’s going to make Xavier furious.
He shakes my hand with a firm grip, eye contact that lingers just a half-second too long. “Kendrix,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.” I open the car door for him. He slides in smoothly, and I circle around to the driver’s side and get behind the wheel.
Once we’re moving, he’s all business.
“Tell me about yourself. Key points. Stuff I can use to flirt or impress people if needed.”
“Trauma surgeon at Evanridge Medical,” I say. “I live alone. I like vacationing when I get time off, reading crime thrillers, and shooting pool.”
He lets out a laugh, rich and surprised. “You just slid that last one in like it wasn’t wildly hot.”
I smile, can’t help it. “It’s honest.”
He nods. “Honesty works.”
There’s a pause, then: “So. Tell me about the ex.”
I exhale, roll my shoulders once. “His name’s Xavier. He’s... complicated. Smooth, dark skin, sharp jawline. Always looks like he’s planning something. We were together, kind of. Mostly behind closed doors. Never official.”
