Page 71 of Fangirl Down

How long could that last with them working together—especially taking into account that he could be a class A dickhead on the course? She could get run over by a golf cart again.

Or worse.

Wells cleared his throat hard. “Look. We’ve got a sponsor. Congratulations, belle, you’re five figures richer. We’re going downstairs to pick out your outfit—and it better not be anything pink.”

She turned so fast, she almost fell down. “I... me? I’m... five figures?Me?”

Not for the first time this morning, a lump built in his throat. “Yeah.”

“B-but...,” she sputtered. “Why?”

“Because you’re... you, Josephine. And for the record, you’re worth a hell of a lot more. I just have to prove myself before that’s possible—and I will. For you. For... us.” Even from across the room, he swore he heard her breath quicken. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Not a hint of doubt in her voice. What had he done to deserve her?

“Good, let’s—”

She gasped. “Are we going to try to match outfits?”

“Hell no, Josephine. Absolutely not.”

Chapter Twenty

Oh yes, theydidend up in matching outfits.

By accident.

Or was it?

After five years of being a Wells superfan, Josephine had the advantage of knowing the colors he favored—and baby blue was among them. As soon as they walked into the conference room and she did a quick survey of both tables, she knew the polo shirt he was going to pick off the men’s side of the room. It was more of a glacial shade than baby blue, but it was the closest to his signature color. And as luck would have it, there was a skirt that matched the shirt exactly, down to the navy logo.

“Do you want to play a game?”

Wells narrowed his eyes at her. “This feels like a trap.”

“Me? Set a trap?” She blinked innocently. “Come on. Say yes.”

He crossed his arms and sighed but couldn’t quite keep the amusement from his expression. “Explain first.”

Josephine swept a hand over the wide array of garments. “We pick and get dressed in an outfit without letting the other person see it. But once we put it on, that’s it. No changing.”

“You’re stuck with whatever you pick.”

“That’s right.”

Wells stroked his chin. “Somehow, I know I’m going to regret saying yes to this. But the fact that it entails you getting seminaked is putting me in an agreeable mood.”

“Uh-uh.” She walked over to the door and engaged the lock. “No peeking.”

“Josephine,” he warned. “You’re making me hard.”

Never could she have predicted that a man making blunt references to his junk could rev her hormones like a tank engine. “Better be careful zipping up, then, I guess,” she breathed.

He laughed with a flash of white teeth, smile lines and all. Utterly gorgeous.

She tried not to make it obvious how that laugh made her heart beat at a dizzying pace.

Holy moly. If he ever laughed like that on camera, this was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to sponsorship opportunities.

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