Page 18 of Accidentally Yours
Paige exhaled, deeper this time. “This is ridiculous.”
Was she reluctantly agreeing? Ethan held his breath, waiting for a final “yes.”
“One picture a week until the book launch,” Kaylor bargained. “We can make that work.”
Paige bit her lower lip, and her expression turned . . . calculating? Ethan wasn’t sure if she was about to cave or walk out the door. He could practically hear the gears grinding in her head.
Then Paige blurted, “I want a bigger advance. Add an extra zero.”
Kaylor choked. Marsha didn’t flinch—at least, not outwardly. Ethan’s grip tightened on the armrests, as if he were watching the climax of a movie.
Arching a brow, Paige suddenly looked cool and composed. “We went viral on accident. Imagine what we can do when we actually put our minds to it.”
Silence stretched. The clock ticked loudly, thickening the tension in the air. Ethan wasn’t sure how Marsha would react. He was just about to back Paige up when Marsha said, “I can make that happen.”
Kaylor sputtered again, but Paige’s lips curved in a slow, satisfied curl. She shot Ethan a look—one that sent a sharp sizzle through his chest.
Dang.
She was smart as a whip. And just as dangerous.
As Ethan watched Paige tuck a curl behind her ear, eyes dancing with mischief and delight, his jaw tightened. He had a sinking feeling—that he wasn’t walking into a simple arrangement.
He was walking straight into the fire.
And he thought he liked it.
Chapter Eight
Paige: It’s official! I have a book deal, a lot more money in my bank account, and a fake boyfriend! The last is just collateral damage.
Alice: Excuse me?! What?!
Gigi: Margaritas, my house! Tonight!!!
Alice: We need DETAILS!!
Paige: Yappy hour, for SURE! Anyone know how to cut up a fresh pineapple??
Gigi: I do!
Paige: Amaze-balls!! I knew you would! I’ve got a new margarita recipe!
Paige,Alice,andGigilived within a four-block radius of each other, which Paige absolutely loved. Bad day? Need to spill the latest gossip? Craving a pajama party? A ten-minute walk stood between her and her best friends—her lifelines, her family by choice.
If she had it her way, they’d be next-door neighbors, popping over with wine and snacks at a moment’s notice. Maybe one day, when they were old and gray, they’d retire in a tiny house community together. That was Paige’s dream. A future built on friendship, not heartbreak. Because, romantic love? That was messy. Unpredictable. And, for her, never quite enough.
“So, they just added an extra zero to a check and handed it over?” Gigi asked, slicing the leafy top off the pineapple. All three women stood around the kitchen island, at Gigi and Harris’s brownstone.
“Yep,” Paige replied, grinning as she poured a generous dose of tequila into the blender. “Once Marsha got involved, I knew I had them. She’s an absolute shark. The moment those pictures of me and Ethan went viral, Marsha saw dollar signs. And I wanted a few of the dollar signs for myself.”
“Good for you!” Alice squeezed Paige with a side hug. Paige leaned into it. “Windy City Press needed a wake-up call. A reminder of how valuable you are. Shame on them for even doubting your writing and not giving you the support you need. You’re a gem and deserve to be treated as such.”
Paige set her head on Alice’s shoulder for a brief second, taking in the praise. It came so easily from her friends, and it had taken Paige a long time to warm up to that. Praise had never come easily from her parents. It was foreign to her, and she generally brushed it off. But a decade of friendship with Alice and Gigi had chipped away at her defenses.
“Yeah, screw those guys,” Gigi added, as she sliced down the center of the prickly pineapple. “Get every cent you can out of them.”
“Thanks, guys,” Paige replied, her smile soft. When Alice moved to the cupboard to grab margarita glasses, Paige unscrewed the bottle of triple sec. Its orange scent tickled her nose as she poured a splash into the blender. “But now I have to pretend Ethan Cole is the greatest thing since sliced bread, which might be hard for this face to accomplish.” She swiped a hand over her face, and her friends laughed, knowing that Paige’s expression always conveyed exactly what was in her head.
