Page 2 of A Taste For Trouble
“This has nothing to do with anybody else. IlikeJoe Cheney,” I hissed.
“Are you listening to yourself?” demanded Trevor. “Like is not good enough. You need to be head over heels in love with the man you want to marry.”
“Look, Joe is a perfectly nice guy,” I said, desperate to end this conversation before they made me change my mind.
“Is he, though?” asked Mara. “He sold Trevor that 1999 Honda Accord, which turned out to be a total lemon.”
“And he knew that fact because it was his own car,” added Trevor. “He’s a turd!”
“He’s a used car salesman,” I said weakly, knowing there wasn’t much I could say to defend Joe in that particular instance. “And he did agree to refund the money and find you a better car.”
“Only after you agreed to go out with him,” argued Mara.
“Well, isn’t that romantic?”
“You’re the romance writer. You tell me,” she challenged. “If you were writing this story, you’d totally cast him as the slimy villain.”
“Yes, well, life is not a romance novel. If it were, I’d be with the man I want, not reading about his fancy new girlfriend in the local scandal sheet,” I cried.
Her face softened as I cursed my wayward tongue.
“I knew this was about Dominic,” said Trevor, throwing his hands in the air.
“I just feel you can do so much better. Don’t settle for the first guy who asks you out, babe,” said Mara.
“Umm, I don’t see anyone else asking,” I replied bitterly.
“Are you sure Joe Cheney is the right guy, though?” she asked, scrunching her nose in distaste.
I knew what she meant. Joe was nice enough, but he wasn’t the ONE. He didn’t set my body on fire by just being in the same room. He didn’t give me tingles every time I met his eyes. But tingles were overrated, in my opinion. And extremely inconvenient.
“Joe is great, babe,” I said with false enthusiasm, and Mara gave a loud snort of disgust.
“That does it! We’re taking you home and locking you in your basement until you come to your senses,” said Trevor, shoving me towards the door. “You’re not safe to be let out on your own.”
“Stop it! I left my pies on the counter,” I yelped in protest.
“Good! Naughty girls bent on self-destruction don’t deserve pie,” he snapped.
“Hey, let’s not be hasty.Everyonedeserves pie,” said Mara, running back to the counter to pick up my abandoned pies.
They hustled me out of the shop and were dragging me to Mara’s car when Trevor’s phone rang.
“Is that The Imperial March from Star Wars?” asked Mara with interest. “Darth Vader’s theme song?”
My heart almost leapt right out of my chest. There was only one person who deserved that ringtone. The grumpiest sonofabitch I had ever encountered. The ruthless billionaire who could wrangle financial deals blindfolded, but had the emotional range of a teaspoon. Trevor’s boss - Dominic Carlisle.
Who also happened to be my godmother’s son.
“Damn it! My boss has the worst timing ever,” groaned Trevor, reaching for his phone. “Yurp, my Lord? How can I serve you, even though I’m on my lunch break?”
CHAPTER 2
DOMINIC
Icould have hired a nice, frightened mouse from the secretarial pool to be my assistant. But no! I had to go pick Trevor McBride, the mouthy queen with winged eyeliner, a rough stubble, and an attitude. Just because he was a fucking organisational savant, and helped run my life exactly the way I liked. If he ever got around to doing his work, that is.
“You were supposed to brief me for my meeting with Travisoff,” I reminded him.