Page 24 of Riding the Sugar High

Kyle fits a hand into his pocket. “Nothing happened between you two?”

I shake my head, though my mind floods with memories of her lips moving against mine, her body arching toward my chest, of her thick, soft thighs in my hands. “No, Kyle. She’s all yours—in private.” I point a finger at him. “If Josie finds out we lied, I’m screwed. Don’t send me to prison because you need to wet your dick.”

“Sure, sure.” Kyle looks down at his phone again, a big, idiotic grin on his face. “God, look at her. How long did you say she’s staying?”

“Seventeen days. She exchanged her ticket this morning.”

“Nice. I think this is valley worthy.”

Lucky Primrose. She gets the treatment reserved for thecrème de la crèmeof Kyle’s sexual escapades.

I walk into the stables, ignoring Kyle and Simon as they discuss Primrose’s pictures and videos. Though I’m curious, I can’t think straight.

I can’t believe that asshole posted her list online. It’s a stupid piece of paper, but it’s important to her. Important enough to break into his farm to get it back. Important enough to commit a crime that could jeopardize her future.

She should have saved herself the trouble and asked me.

Be it the last thing I do, I’ll get her list back.

kiss my forehead

Primrose

Balancingthe laptop on my legs, I bring up the screen brightness. With the sun shining behind it, I can hardly see the video conference room.

I check my face in the small square on the bottom of my screen, and there’s sweat over the top of my lip, so I wipe it with the back of my hand and mentally curse the overly warm midday sun. Which is one of the many reasons I’d rather not have this meeting outside, but it’s the only place where my connection works, and I haven’t asked Logan for the Wi-Fi password yet.

I nervously check the time, but there’s still a couple of minutes before the meeting is scheduled to start. I’m about to pick up my phone and mindlessly scroll when a light rattling from the speakers has me perking up, the bigger square buffering. “Primrose?”

“Yes, Chloe, hi.” Her slender face appears on the screen, and she waves excitedly. “Can you hear me?”

“I can hear you fine. Where are you?”

“On a...” Thinking of my giant temporary roommate, I mumble, “Porch.”

With a doubtful expression, she nods, then looks down at a sheet of paper before focusing on me again. “All right, so...we have a lot to go through. First of all, thank you so much for agreeing to jump on a call with me. We can’t wait for you to meet the team.”

“Neither can I,” I answer sincerely. Marisol isthebiggest candy-making company out there, and landing a job as a culinary developer for them is basically like winning a very exclusive lottery. Though I love the independence social media allows for, I’ll happily give that up to see my candy in stores.

Myowncandy.

I’ve been dreaming of this moment for a decade. This is what kept me from giving up when Derek turned half of my fans against me. I’ve fought for this moment—I craved it. And now it’s happening.

“And I’m sure Jessica already mentioned during your meeting that this isn’t a home office position.”

“Absolutely.” Nine-to-five at the office nineteen days from now, which means Ireallycan’t get arrested. “I’ve already been given a tour of the offices too.”

“Wonderful.” She pauses, then her smile dampens. “However, we do have some concerns.”

It’s like a sudden blow to the chest, leaving me stunned and paralyzed with fear. My body goes rigid, but forcing a neutral expression on my face, I ask, “What do you mean?”

An angry furrow appears between her brows. “Our social media manager informed me of the situation between you and, uh...” She lifts a post-it. “Derek Gracen?”

I feel my stomach clench. She knows about the list. About the lies that foul man keeps spewing. “Oh, right. Yes. I know this is all very...inconvenient, trust me. But it’s a big misunderstanding, and?—”

“Misunderstanding?” She rests both elbows on her white desk, her hands steepled at her lips. “Primrose, you’ve been around a while. You know the truth doesn’t matter. What matters is what people believe.”

“I—sure, but?—”