Page 31 of Make-Believe Match

I took a photo of my wrist and sent it to her.

A friendship bracelet. Very cute.

I could ask her to teach me how to make one for you.

Don’t bother. You and I are not friends.

We were friends for one night, weren’t we?

I was young and foolish then.

I even found your missing O.

Don’t remind me.

Why not? We had a good time. Best time I’ve had in a while.

It doesn’t matter, Devlin. Even if you are not the scoundrel I think you are, that doesn’t change the fact we are on opposite sides of the biggest fight of my life. I may have accidentally slept with the enemy, but I don’t have to wish him a happy birthday.

I’m not your enemy, Lexi. I want to help you.

You can’t. I’m not sure anyone can.

Frustrated, I gave up and got ready for bed, placing the friendship bracelet next to my phone on the nightstand, trading my jeans and dress shirt for soft gray sweats, and brushing my teeth. She was so damn stubborn—and irritatingly immune to my charms. But by the time I crawled between the sheets and picked up my phone to set my alarm, she’d sent one more text.

Fine. Happy birthday.

It made me smile.

I admired her tenacity, I really did, as well as her loyalty and sense of duty to her family. The problem was, it was all in direct conflict with my need to push this deal through or watch fucking sleazeball Bob Oliver walk off with my win. And he would not win gracefully. He’d gloat and brag and never let me or anyone else forget he’d scored the final goal. Just like he spread it around after fucking my girlfriend that he hadn’t even had to try that hard.

McKenna had drunkenly confessed the night it happened, blurting the truth on the way home from the party, saying it was my fault she’d had to go elsewhere to get some attention. She claimed I took her for granted and didn’t know the good thing I had. She was tired of waiting around for me to put a ring on her finger. It had been two years already—what was I waiting for? Did I think I was too good for her? Did I think I’d find someone better?

I refused to fight, calmly telling her it was over between us and probably had been for a while. The next day, she’d shown up at my door in tears, begging me to take her back and insisting she loved me, but her words rang hollow to me—I wasn’t entirely sure what love was, but there was no way it wasthis.

By Valentine’s Day, she had a rock on her finger from Bob Oliver, who was fond of telling people how he’d stolen my girlfriend.

Whatever. Those two deserved each other.

But I’d be damned if I let him steal my account. My reputation was on the line. My promotion. My pride. I had to win this one, and I needed Lexi to do it.

I’d give her a few days, and then try again.

* * *

When another week went by with nothing but silence on Lexi’s end, I decided to travel back to Michigan and try meeting with her in person. I only had two days left, and every time Bob Oliver passed me in the hallway or sat across from me at the conference table, I could see him grinning like he tasted victory already, all the sweeter because it would be served with two scoops of my failure and shame.

I had to make a move. Take a risk.

I walked into Harvey’s office the following Monday morning to let him know I’d be flying out to meet with the McIntyre family again.

“Don’t bother,” he said. “You’re off the account.”

“What? You gave me two weeks, Harvey! That means I have until Wednesday.”

“Black Diamond is tired of waiting.” He opened a drawer and rummaged around in it. “They’re threatening to take their business elsewhere, and I need a man on the job who can close the dealnow. I’m turning the account over to Bob.”

My blood pressure spiked. “Don’t do this, Harvey. I’ve worked a lot on this deal. I’ve put in time and effort, and I deserve the chance to see it through.”