Page 16 of Coming for Her Grumpy Boss

chapter

six

Mia

By the time I make it home that night, I’ve convinced myself that agreeing to be Ford McCall’s fake girlfriend was a fever dream.

End game, I remind myself. This is about securing an exclusive contract for my sister.

I can deal with my sanity later.

I kick off my heels in the general direction of the couch and flop face-first onto my bed. I don’t even reach for Netflix. I reach for my phone.

ME: I’ve made a deal with the actual devil.

ESME: Tall? Dark? Glowers like he’s constipated?

ME: The very one.

ESME: DETAILS.

ME: Your Christmas present this year is five years of Cactus Girl exclusivity.

ESME: OMG. OMG. OMG. Are you serious?

ME: I traded my dignity. And possibly my immortal soul.

ESME: Pfft. Dignity is overrated anyway.

EMSE: Precisely what did you agree to?

ME: To be Ford’s fake girlfriend at his family Christmas. Whole weekend. His lake house. His family and Thorne’s. Which means Natasha.

ESME: this is me screaming in all caps because THAT IS THE BEST ROM-COM PLOT EVER.

ME: This isn’t a rom-com, Esme. This is my actual life.

ESME: Potato, potahto. You’re finally going to test my theory.

ME: If you’re about to bring up blowjobs⁠—

ESME: IF? Babe, it’s science. Men can’t stay grumpy post-orgasm.

ME: He can. Ford McCall could win Olympic gold in Post-Orgasm Grumpiness.

ESME: Do you know that for sure, because if so, you’ve been leaving out significant details.

ME: No, obviously I don’t know that. I’m speculating.

ME: What am I going to do?

ESME: You’re going to knock him on his ass. Red dress. Killer heels. Good bra.

ME: I already wear a good bra.

ESME: No, I mean the good bra. The one with lace and questionable engineering.

ME: …You’re evil.