Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102411 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
“What do you mean?” Ford asks warily, arching a brow.
“Well, you’re going to the gala,” she says to him. “It’s my last one, and you’re not playing that weekend. It’ll be here in town at The Resort.” That’s a hotel owned by the city’s well-known billionaire Wilder Blaine, who built an empire with sports teams, hotels, and clean energy. Now his hotels are known for their sustainable efforts—a perfect synergy. “San Francisco has truly embraced our recycling initiatives throughout the city in office buildings and public spaces.”
“Right,” he says, crossing his arms.
Maggie heaves an aggrieved sigh and turns to me. “The thing is, everyone wants to set their daughters up with him.”
Oh. Well, this got good. I lean in. “Tell me more.”
Ford rolls his eyes. “Skylar, what did I tell you at Twice Loved?”
“That your mom loves you deeply and had the highway patrol check on you when you were eighteen and driving to college?” I ask innocently.
He drags a hand down his face. “What did I really tell you?”
“It was a reasonable thing to do,” Maggie says with zero sarcasm.
“Of course it was,” I assure her.
“So what did he tell you about me?” Maggie asks. No—she insists.
“Not to give you my number. Oops. Did it anyway,” I say to his mom with a defiant bob of my shoulder.
Well, he did say his mom likes it when I tease him in front of her. Works for me. Teasing is my love language, and I can’t help it.
He groans. “I said, don’t feed steak to the tiger.”
“I’m the tiger?” Mom asks sharply. “Ford, that’s not nice.”
“So tell me all about these dates,” I cut in. I’m secretly hoping he turns them all down.
Unfair? Yes.
Irrational? Also yes.
But it’s how I feel.
I’m dying for the details and praying he is not interested in these other women. As my neighbor and my client, he’s a double-whammy of off-limits. I can’t have him, but that means no one else can. Obviously.
“Cordelia Harrington wants him to take her daughter,” Maggie begins with an even heartier sigh. “Kahlia Mayami wants to set him up with her daughter. Sunil Bakshi says his daughter is a huge hockey fan and would love to go with him. Honestly, it’s endless. And, frankly, exhausting.”
“Well, he gets proposals at games too,” I point out, since I read that online.
“I’m right here,” Ford mutters, pointing at himself.
Maggie waves a dismissive hand his way.
“But the thing is, I want to get them off my back. I can’t have everyone hounding me about my single son. I have fundraising to handle. A gala to plan. A house to prep. I need a shield from all these date requests,” Maggie says. Then she pauses, narrowing her eyes, studying me. Then Ford. Then me again.
Her smile turns Mona Lisa serene. “But I devised a plan this morning. An unbeatable plan.”
“Do tell,” Ford says dryly.
I’m on the edge of my seat.
Maggie’s grin is her entire personality as she takes an even longer pause to drink more iced tea. She sets down the glass with a plink.
“Skylar will attend as your fake girlfriend,” she announces. “I’ve watched you two this morning, and you look good together. It will be perfect. Say yes.”
I freeze.
But Ford doesn’t.
He turns to me, a slow, sexy smile forming on those lips. “Works for me.”
I thought I was against dating. After I tried online dating and it failed, I figured I was content devoting all my attention to building my business. Happy to be hustling like no eco-designer has hustled before.
But from the way my stomach flips at his words, it’s clear I’m not against fake dating Ford Devon.
“Yes,” I say.
I was never saying no.
19
KISS ENGINEER
FORD
This fake date makes perfect sense. I’m already taking Skylar to the opening of the board game store. The gala next month is simply an extension of our plus-one-ing.
But I’m aware that my mother is a bulldozer. Sure, Skylar has handled her with nothing but the aplombiest aplomb. Still, I need to make sure Skylar’s okay with this new twist. It’s one thing for her to agree to a fake date with Mom managing my life over arugula salad. It’s another for Skylar to honestly want to go.
Trouble is, after I pay the bill and we walk out of the café, Mom—surprise, surprise—commandeers the convo. With a furrow in her brow, she sets a hand on my arm, looking up at me under the awning of an illustration of the owner’s tan Chihuahua she named the café after. “How long do you think it’ll take to catch an Uber and get to the airport at this time of day?”
Right. She has a return flight at five. It’s two-thirty now. And I wouldn’t be a good son if I just let her catch an Uber. “I can take you,” I tell her, “but I also have to drop Skylar off because she has an appointment.” I do traffic math, but I’m not sure my chauffeur services will work for both women. The time it takes to dart over to Hayes Valley to drop off Skylar, then get Mom to the airport, will mean cutting it close for Mom’s flight.