“He does?” He and I have never met. I didn’t even know he knew me.
“He’s applying for a job and wants to see if you could review his résumé. Apparently this is a position he absolutely has to get or his life is going to be over.”
That’s dramatic, but then, Jo’s family has always been pretty over the top. “Well, he certainly doesn’t have to sleep with me to get me to look it over. He can just email it to me. Or drop it off, whichever is easier.”
“Cool,” Jo says. “You’re the best. I’ll tell him to get in touch with you. I offered to look it over, but he basically told me I didn’t know anything about being gainfully employed or having a boss. But apparently you know all about it, so I’m supposed to get you to help him out.” She rolls her eyes.
I laugh. “Did you tell him that dealing with fickle clients can be harder than dealing with a fickle boss?”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t get it. He doesn’t respect what I do.” She waves a hand. “Anyway, if you don’t want to jump Hugo’s bones, how about you just listen to your mom?”
The Tingle of Terror prickles at the back of my neck. “Oh, no. Did she call you again?”
“Uh-huh. Asked me to help you pick out the perfect dress for the art gallery opening. Said you wouldn’t know what to do without my help. I told her you aren’t that bad, but…” Jo shrugs.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. She needs to quit calling you. Did you tell her that using you as leverage wasn’t going to work?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think she understood. Or maybe she decided I was speaking Spanish because it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.” Jo shakes her head.
I sigh. Why, Mom, why?
“You might disagree with her on other stuff, but you gotta admit, Byron Pearce is hot. And single. And not dating anybody, from what I can tell.”
Jo’s right, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to agree with her. It would feel like I was letting my mom win her battle to get me to date rich guys.
“And he’s probably great in bed, so he could totally scratch your itch. If you don’t like him afterward, I’ll take him for a spin.”
I start to say no, then stop and wonder if kissing Byron would feel as nice as kissing Wyatt. Hard to tell. I’ve never really fantasized about the man. On the other hand, he is really good-looking. There might be some chemistry.
And I’ve never heard any stories about how Byron mistreats children.
“Ooh, look at this.” Jo pulls a red dress out of the rack. “Off the shoulder. Chiffon. That slit on the side is brilliant. It’ll make you look like a flame to be devoured.”
“It’s the flame that devours,” I correct her dryly. “Or burns.”
“Ha. Not if you’re doing flaming shots! Anyway, you know what I mean. I can lend you my Jimmy Choos. I haven’t worn them yet, and they’ll match the dress perfectly. I can just imagine it.” She closes her eyes briefly. “Byron sees you in red across the gallery floor. He gets struck dumb with desire. He romances and seduces you. And you invite me to your billionaire wedding!” She claps as though she’s the one getting married in her fantasy. “It’s going to be so exciting!”
The mental picture she paints has all the right elements. But somehow it’s about as exciting as overcooked pasta.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Wyatt
The mall is a collection of horrors, but I made a promise to Vi, so here I am at a department store, trying to help her buy a dress for Geneva’s wedding. Except…what do I know about clothes for little girls? Just because I’m wearing an Avengers T-shirt doesn’t mean I’m a superhero when it comes to girly fashion.
As a matter of fact, we aren’t even in the right section. The dresses are way too big—adult-sized, actually.
Still, Vi lingers, admiring them. “I want to be taller.”
“Why?”
“So I can wear this,” she says, running a hand over a black number with a plunging neckline.
My jaw tightens. Over my dead body. She could be ten feet tall, but she’s still not wearing anything with a neckline like that for at least the next thirty years.
Then I hear a familiar voice…
Kim?