Page 10

TEN

Kinsley

“Welcome to the hot and bothered book club,” Holly Hope shouts as soon as I open the door to Just One More Chapter, a small bookstore right outside downtown with one hell of a romance selection. “Where we like our books girthy, our sex dirty, and our heroes swoony.”

I send an apologetic look to the older man behind me, but he continues to walk by, muttering something about kids today and inappropriate behavior. He either doesn’t like shouting or romance books or sex. Probably all three if I had to guess.

But I know Holly feels zero shame. She’s not only the owner but a published romance author, and is passionate about taking the shame out of reading romance. And fictional sex.

Colin ignores us all, pushing past me and heading directly for the small young adult section where I know he’ll be searching for the newest R.L. Stine. The kid is positively obsessed, has been since our parents died.

“Kinsley, you’re late.” June Morgan, my best friend, runs over to me, pulling me into a tight hug while her boyfriend and their son trail behind. “And you’ve been avoiding my texts.”

The lie is right there on the tip of my tongue, to tell her I’ve been busy, but I’ve known June for years, and she’ll see right through my bullshit. Between getting dumped and the rest of the disaster that was Monday, I needed some time to be depressed and eat my weight in ice cream. And then today…well, that was a different story entirely.

To be fair, I’m still employed and single but now working directly under three guys who are all giving me some sort of whiplash. I’m supposed to be a professional. Hell, they’re supposed to be professionals, but let me tell you, my interactions with them didn’t feel very business-like.

Wyatt fed me and practically plastered his entire body to mine for over an hour. It was all I could think about until Maverick came into my office and had the audacity to lean over me while he went through all the responsibilities that came with my job. The man smelled like what dreams are made of and made it nearly impossible to concentrate. Thank God Brantley spent most of the day out of the office, or I’m sure I would’ve tried to dry hump his leg before the day's end.

“Sorry, the last couple days have been a lot.” Understatement of the century.

She pulls back and gives me a pointed look, her gaze narrowing on me. “Go on.”

I huff a laugh, holding up my hands in surrender, but before I can get a word out Colin comes between us, handing me two books.

Thanks . He signs, giving me a small smile, one that widens when he sees June’s son Oliver. Did you tell them I’m going to be getting surgery? That I may be able to hear soon?

I force a smile of my own, ignoring the worry and anxiety that swirls inside me when I think about thousands of dollars I need to come up with just to schedule the procedure. Short of robbing a bank, I have no idea where I’m going to come up with that kind of money, but I’m not going to give up. I’m not going to be a disappointment like our parents.

“You’re going to be able to hear me?” Oliver runs up to us, June’s boyfriend, Ryan, hot on his heels.

The look on June’s face morphs into confusion, and I clutch the books tight to my chest, swallowing past the growing lump in my throat. “We found out that Colin is a candidate for cochlear implants.”

“That’s huge.” June pulls Colin in for a quick hug. “Congratulations. Oliver already coerced Ryan into getting ice cream while we talk books. You should go with them and celebrate.”

He links arms with Oliver, both giving me those sad, puppy dog eyes. The two of them belong on an ASPCA commercial. There’s no doubt this is exactly how a three year old coerced a big bad football player like Ryan into taking him for ice cream during book club. One look and he was a goner. He might be a beast on the football field, but the man is a simp for his family.

Wish my parents were like that.

“You guys have fun.” I wave him off, making sure to ruffle Colin’s hair as he walks past.

Not cool, sis . He quickly fixes his hair, and the two of them dart toward the door, Oliver grabbing his dad and practically pulling him outside. He barely has time to give us a small wave before the three of them are gone and I’m left alone with June, who has stepped closer to me, her smile now dipped into a frown.

“I thought your parents said he wasn’t a candidate for surgery.” She crosses her arms, staring me down exactly like her lawyer mom. “And when did you find this out? When you were avoiding me?”

“Yeah, well, it turns out my parents were liars as well as drunks. He could have gotten the implants when he was two and learned how to talk with all the other kids his age. Now he’s going to have to work so much harder.” With a sigh, I shake my head. I still can’t believe they lied to their own son, kept him from getting a procedure that could have literally changed his entire life. “I don’t know how two people could be so selfish.”

Her eyes widen, and she lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I don’t even know what to say. I couldn’t imagine keeping something that significant from Oli. That’s?—”

“Sorry I’m late.” Daisy rushes in the bookstore, furiously texting on her phone. She has her book tucked under one arm, her black Loubouton bag swinging from the other, and doesn’t miss a beat as she steers us toward the stairs, the stilettos on her booties—ones that no doubt match her bag and cost more than my rent—clicking with every step. “Let’s start this thing, ladies. I have a few fires to put out before bedtime, and I need my bimonthly dose of romance.”

Normally, I’d agree, but after today, I’m pretty sure what I need is the opposite of romance. Like a cold shower. Or a punch to the face. Anything to get my wandering mind off my three hot bosses. Maybe focusing on this mafia book will help. Or hearing about these fires Daisy has to put out, that is if we can get any information out of her.

She’s usually locked up tighter than Fort Knox, but I’m sure you have to be when you make your living fixing celebrity images. While we don’t know who exactly she works with, she’s told us she usually takes on the more challenging cases, AKA the dumpster fires.

I quirk a brow, following her up the stairs to the large sitting area on the second floor. “More misbehaving celebrities?”

She snorts, slipping her phone into her purse, and runs a hand down the length of her long blonde ponytail. “Always. But hey, it’s job security.”

June leans in, glancing between us, and whispers, “Who are you working with now?”

Daisy huffs a laugh, waving her off with a flick of her wrist. “Nice try. You know I can’t divulge any information about my clients.”

“Oh, come on. One little hint?” June sits on the leather couch, pulling Daisy down next to her. “Rumor has it, Finn Dawson started a brawl at a nightclub last week. Noel Adams is notorious for showing up drunk for filming and, according to my sources, her and the director got into it a couple days ago. Some kind of casting dispute.”

“Your sources?” I laugh, flopping down on the loveseat to her right. “Unless you’re trading secrets with Ryan’s publicist, I’m not sure you have a source.”

She crosses her arms with a huff. “I’ll have you know I heard it on the morning radio. It’s a very reputable resource.”

Holly drags in a chair from the little in-house coffee shop and takes a seat across from us with Ava, a new member, following close behind. “Speaking of celebrities misbehaving, have you heard about the lead singer of the Righteous Kings? He was just arrested in Vegas for public intoxication after trashing his hotel room and going on a rampage through the Palms Casino. He resisted arrest, and they’ve got him on video punching a police officer.”

June nods, leaning toward Holly. “They’ve had to cancel two shows because he was too drunk to perform.”

“He’s so hot, though,” Ava says softly, her face turning a bright shade of pink.

“Oh yeah, he’s got that bad boy vibe perfected.” Holly groans, putting a hand over her chest. “And the drummer? Sweet baby Jesus, I’ve had dreams about that man.”

Daisy snorts, something that’s very unDaisy-like. “Righteous pricks is more like it. They’re nothing but a bunch of spoiled babies with too much money and no fucking sense. Sex, drugs, and rock and roll. More like venereal disease and a distorted sense of entitlement. I wouldn’t work with Wilder Hayes if my career depended on it.”

“What if his career depended on it?” I give her a quick glance, taking note of the scowl etched across her face.

“Definitely not then either. If those assholes fell into obscurity, the world would be better for it.” She places the book on her lap with more force than necessary and gives us all a pointed look. “Let’s talk mafia romance, shall we? There are plenty of fictional men that deserve our attention.”

Holly opens her book, flipping pages until she finds what she’s looking for and aggressively points at the page. “This virgin auction was everything I didn’t know I needed. The way her brother’s bestie showed up was perfection. I’m not sure if she was going to go through with it until he tried to talk some sense into her.” She punctuates the last couple words with air quotes and laughs. “Lucia would do anything just to spite that man.”

“And when he outbid everyone by millions…” Ava sighs, or maybe swoons is a better word.

“Who knew selling your virginity would bring in so much money?” June waves the book in front of her and chuckles. “If I knew that back in college, I’d have never given it away to Paul.”

I shift, tucking a leg underneath me, and attempt to sound as casual as possible. “Do you think that’s a real thing? Selling your virginity?”

“I’m sure.” Holly’s quick to answer, earning a horrified gasp from Ava. “There’s a market for everything these days. If there are men looking to buy used panties or pictures of feet, there are guys willing to pay top dollar to take someone’s V-card.”

“I couldn’t imagine being that intimate with a stranger. I’d be mortified. What if he wasn’t attracted to you and couldn’t, you know…get it up? What if he ended up being a creepy old man with dentures and liver spots? What if he was married?”

All valid possibilities. If something like that existed, it would either be out of some sort of exclusive sex club or maybe even on the internet. You can get a kidney off the internet if you know where to look. Although, an auction is risky, you’d have zero control. You’d literally be in a stranger’s hands. I’d be in a stranger’s hands . Oh, God, and what if he tried to steal my kidney and sell it on the black market? I don’t know what I’d do if I woke up in a bathtub full of ice.

Could you imagine?

Not that it’s something I’d even consider. Just pure speculation. You know, for science.

Ah, who am I kidding?

With Colin’s surgery on the line, I’m desperate.

A few days ago I’d have said hell no, but now I can’t help but consider it. If it’s a real thing, that is. My virginity is a problem—Brian was kind enough to point that out. But what if it didn’t have to be? What if I could kill two birds with one stone? What if I could get enough money to pay for surgery and get some real in bed experience at the same time? Then I could try to date without this black cloud hanging over my head, without hearing Brian telling me I’m as stiff as a board.

It’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had.

To be fair, it’s not the best either.

No.

I can’t do it.

It would be wrong.

Immoral.

I’m sure something like that doesn’t exist.

“Ohhhh, I had a client tell me she did this a few years ago. I can’t remember the name of the website, but she created a profile, uploaded a few pictures, and when the auction went live, she sold her virginity to an actual prince. Rich guys pay top dollar for untouched pussy.” Daisy smirks, lowering her voice a few octaves. “Apparently his dick was the size of my pinky and he lasted about two minutes, but the money was worth it.”

Well, it existed a few years ago, but things change all the time. Sites like that are probably illegal. They get shut down all the time. There’s no way it’s still around. I’m sure it’s not an option.

But if it was…I could sell myself to a prince. Two minutes isn’t exactly a long time. It’d be over in a snap. A hundred and twenty seconds. It takes longer than that to brush my teeth. I wouldn’t even have to spend the night in a hotel room. I’d be in and out in under an hour.

Maybe this really isn’t such a terrible idea.