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A Not So Meet Cute(26)

Author:Meghan Quinn

“Yes, I do know what she likes,” I say while turning my back toward him. “She likes the burrito bowl.” JP snickers behind me. He can fuck off. “Chicken, black beans, lettuce, and she likes to pile on the guac. She’s always worried because it costs extra, but you know”—I swallow hard—“what my baby wants, my baby gets.”

JP snorts.

Red-hot embarrassment creeps up the back of my neck. I’m going to get so much shit for this.

“Perfect,” Dave says. He drags it out, as if he’s writing it down. “And what about you?”

This is what my life has become, me giving another man my Chipotle order, but not just any man, the man I want to do business with. We’ve succumbed to no longer talking business or being sharks in the office, nope, we’re handing out Chipotle orders.

I give him my order, and then he asks, “Do you guys like the chips?”

“Love them,” I say. I was actually banking on taking those chips home last night and eating them alone in my room while staring out at my pool, contemplating life. But Lottie snagged them as a parting gift before I could stop her. I should’ve been annoyed, but it actually amused me. Can’t say a woman has done that sort of chip dash to me before.

“Great, I’ll be sure to have a bunch, then. Ellie is craving salt right now, so I know those will be right up her alley. And are you sure you’re okay with this dinner? Ellie will probably be horrified that we’re ordering fast food to serve to our guests, but I also know how pregnant women are.”

“Trust me, Lottie will be thrilled.”

“Lottie, I like that name,” Dave says. “That’s the first time you’ve said it. Is it short for Charlotte?”

“Leiselotte, actually.” I can feel JP’s burning gaze on me, his brain filling up with a million questions.

“Beautiful,” Dave says. “I can’t wait to meet her. Does six on Saturday work?”

No.

It doesn’t work at all. It actually would be helpful if I had time to find someone slightly more stable than the girl I’m trying to chase after right now, but I can’t afford that kind of time. I need to make an impression sooner rather than later so I can score that godforsaken deal.

“That works great. We’ll see you then.”

“Perfect.”

I spin around in my chair and casually hang up my phone, ignoring JP altogether. I move my mouse on my desk, wake up my computer, and go straight to my inbox, where I feel the most comfortable.

JP doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me. A few minutes pass, and my nerves creep and crawl higher and higher until I break. “What?” I ask him.

“Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

I turn toward his annoyingly large grin. “You didn’t have to say anything. It’s all in your eyes, in your stare.”

“Just fascinated, is all. Because not only have you lied about this whole pregnant fiancée thing, but now you’ve dug yourself an even bigger hole by handing Dave a name, but not just a name, her whole name. And you offered him a Chipotle order. Ballsy man, really fucking ballsy, especially since the girl didn’t say yes.”

“She will,” I say.

“Yeah, you sure about that?”

“Positive. I know her weakness, and if I have to use it, I will.”

“Perfect way to get someone to do something for you. Threats.” JP claps. “You really are something else, Hux.” He stands from his chair. “I think the smart thing would’ve been to tell him you lied.” He buttons his suit jacket. “I just pray you don’t fuck this entire thing up. We worked damn hard putting this enterprise together.”

“You think I don’t know that?” I ask. “It’s why I’m going to do everything it takes to save our asses, to make this right.”

“You better,” JP says. “And Lottie, she better be at that dinner with you because I doubt pretending she was sick will be accepted. You’re just going to have to do the night all over again.”

He’s right, that was an option, but I know Dave enough to understand his need to make an impression. He wants to meet my fiancée, and he’s going to keep asking until he does.

“Good luck, bro, you’re going to need it.” JP walks out of my office, and I lean back in my chair, letting out some pent-up frustration.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

I stare down at my desk and contemplate my next move. Clearly the flowers didn’t work, which only means I’m going to have to play dirty.

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