Page 10 of Accidentally Yours
Alice leaned back in her chair, sighing. “And don’t forget the time he gave that epic confessional about how loyalty was a double-edged sword. Ugh, reality TV gold.”
Paige took a slow sip of her margarita, mulling over what her friends had said. “That’s just it, though. He’s a reality TV star. Writing is his hobby. I don’t think he takes it seriously. He’s probably just waiting to get cast on another show.”
Gigi grinned, brushing off Paige’s excuse. “It could be fun, you know.” She stretched out the words in a singsong. “Solving riddles, finding treasure together, writing a love story.” She waggled her brows. “And let’s be real. Ethan’s not hard to look at either.” She threw Paige a pointed look, daring her to challenge her statement.
Paige raised a brow. “I never said he was hard to look at. I just prefer watching him on a screen.”
Gigi laughed, and Paige stuffed another meatball into her mouth, doing her best not to think of Ethan’s sultry stare or those ridiculously broad shoulders. He was obviously full of himself, and that wasdeeplyunattractive.
“Look,” Alice said, her tone firm. “Either we spend the entire summer hopping between every pizza place in Chicago to solve this clue, or you team up with an extremely handsome man who probably already has the answers. Your choice. Either way, we’ll have fun. But if you want to keep your book deal, youmightconsider the second option.”
Just then, Alice’s husky black-and-white cat, Mister Tuxedo, hopped onto her lap and meowed pointedly. Alice scratched his head, and he instantly purred. “See? Even Tux agrees.”
“He just wants a meatball.” Paige chuckled, narrowing her eyes at the fluffy feline before she scratched his head too.
Tux meowed again—this time staring directly at Alice’s plate.
They all laughed, but Paige’s mind was already turning. Gigi and Alice were her cheerleaders, her safety net. No matter what happened—whether she pulled this off or fell flat on her face—they’d be there. Because of them, she could take a risk.
She could do this.
“Okay,” Paige said, relenting with a sigh. “I’ll call him.”
Chapter Five
EthansteppedintoGino’sPizzeria, the smell of bubbling cheese and tangy tomato sauce hitting him instantly. The low hum of chatter, punctuated by occasional cheers from Cubs’ fans glued to the TVs on the walls, filled the packed place. It was loud, chaotic, and exactly the setting he could get lost in if he wasn’t worried about the conversation he was about to have.
Scanning the dining room, he spotted her—Paige Moon, tucked into a booth at the back, a soda in hand, her head bent over her phone like it was the most interesting thing in the whole place.
Paige had finally called after two days of silence, but her message had been maddeningly vague.Let’s meet. We need to talk.Ethan hated loose ends. He didn’t like to feel out of control. And Paige Moon was another fraying thread in his unraveling life. She hadn’t signed the contract yet, and without her, his shot at finding the necklace was as good as dead.
Why hadn’t she signed it?
His mind cycled through worst-case scenarios. Maybe she’d decided she didn’t need him. Or to go solo and keep the necklace for herself. Maybe she thought he was nothing more than a washed-up reality star with a lucky book deal. The last idea stung more than it should have.
Weaving through the maze of tables, Ethan dodged servers with trays of deep-dish pizzas, until he reached Paige’s booth. She didn’t notice him at first, too busy sipping her soda and scanning her phone. But when he cleared his throat, her dark eyes flicked up, widening in surprise before narrowing with sharp, feline focus.
“Not a Cubs fan?” he asked, trying to break the ice between them, which was about as thick as a concrete wall.
Paige blinked. Her black hair was pulled into a ponytail, but a stray wave had escaped. She tucked it behind her ear, then spared a glance at the nearest TV, where fans were roaring over a double play. “I’m notnota Cubs’ fan,” she replied, her tone breezy. But her gaze pierced him.
“Double negative? Bold choice.” He shrugged off his bomber jacket. It wasn’t cold enough to need it, but his grandpa’s jacket was a habit—like a piece of armor he couldn’t leave behind.
Paige lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, but the corner of her mouth twitched, the smallest hint of a smile. Ethan considered it a win.
“If I watch baseball,” she started, twirling the straw in her soda. “I’d rather do it at Wrigley Field. With nachos. And a hot dog.”
“Hard to argue with that.” He slid into the booth, setting his jacket on the black vinyl seat.
“For once, we agree,” Paige said, though her tone suggested they wouldn’t agree on much else. The doubts in Ethan’s head recharged.
He straightened, pressing back against the seat. Folding his arms across his chest, he zoned in on Paige’s skeptical face. “You haven’t signed the contract.” No point dancing around it. What was she waiting for?
Paige released her grip on the straw, setting her hand on the red-checkered tablecloth. “Not yet.”
“Is there something in the terms you’re not comfortable with?” His voice was even, but questions burned inside him. Was she angling for more money? More control? He could be flexible. To a point.
Paige shook her head. She leaned forward, her expression unreadable. “It’s not the contract. It’s you.”
