“You should make it true. I’d roll in a bathtub of jelly with that man.”

  Slipping the card into my purse, I shrugged. “Impossible. His ego would take up the whole tub. No room for jelly. Or me—I mean you.”

  “You’re not the least bit curious to find out what he wants to pay you to do?”

  “Considering how that sounds, nope. Not at all. Ooh, look, the line is moving. Yay.”

  But as the girls turned to move with the line, I knew I was lying.

  I was so curious, my heart still raced from my encounter with Rafe.

  Chapter Three

  River’s Bar, in my neighborhood on Staten Island, had an energy my friends and I enjoyed. Vibrant but laid-back. Industrial meets boho. There was Edison bulb lighting, wrought-iron barstools and bistro sets, comfortable sofa seating in mismatched fabrics with wooden coffee tables. Every Friday night there was live music and on Saturdays they played an eclectic mix of music that didn’t grate on the ears and was good to dance to.

  I’d lived in the St. George area for the last few years, choosing to rent a tiny studio apartment because it was what I could afford. It wasn’t in the best locale, but my neighborhood was what they called “up-and-coming.” It was heading in what I hoped was a cool, artsy direction. There was already a great food scene. The major theater for Staten Island was in St. George, and there was a heavy metal scene in the neighborhood too.

  My friends Roger, Kendall, and Jude had convinced me to move to Staten Island. I met my three closest friends when I worked as a bartender at a drag show and Roger’s friend Adam had his bachelor party there.

  Roger, a music producer who worked with Adam at the same studio, had attended and been completely enamored with me on a purely platonic level. And I with him. We shared the same sunny, optimistic outlook on life but with that contradictory dry, sarcastic wit, a combination that confused most people. He was kind of like my big brother.

  With Roger came Kendall, an independent graphic designer and artist, and Jude, a full-time book editor and part-time writer for an online lifestyle magazine.

  The three of them were in a long-term polyamorous relationship that made them happier than any three people I’d ever met in my life. Although sometimes it was hard to tell Jude was happy, but I knew him well enough to know that the big softy adored Roger and Kendall.

  “Ooh, I’m likin’ River’s new signature cocktail.” Kendall did a little shimmy in her seat, her short, dark curls bouncing with the movement.

  I sipped at my beer as Jude slid his arm around the back of Kendall’s chair, a fond smile on his face. “Let me try.”

  “You hate vodka,” she reminded him.

  “But you make it look so good.”

  I turned to Roger to see his reaction and found him studying me.

  I tensed. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

  My best friend nodded slowly. “A secret.”

  “A secret?”

  “Yeah. Why else would you be so quiet this evening? You’ve barely said a word.”

  “We’ve been here all of ten minutes.”

  “And by now, you’ve usually regaled us with something funny that happened at work.” His dark eyes searched mine. “Did something not funny happen at work?”

  Roger was one of those extremely observant people who noticed everything and genuinely cared too. I often pondered the fact that this facet of his personality helped keep the harmony between him, Jude, and Kendall. If one of them was unhappy about something, Roger could usually tell and sought to fix it.

  I didn’t think Roger could fix my problem.

  Rafe Whitman.

  Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to get the vet off my mind since we’d run into each other yesterday. His card was burning a hole in my purse.

  I launched into my tale about the birthday party and yesterday outside the Apple store.

  While there was some laughter, Jude scowled when I told them about Rafe’s attitude toward my jobs.

  “Forget about him,” Jude advised, once I’d finished. “Don’t call him.”

  Roger’s ginger brows furrowed. “Why?”

  “Because Star doesn’t need some rich asshole filling her head with his toxic attitude.”

  I looked at Kendall. She wore an uncertain smile on her pretty face as she shrugged. “I’m on the fence.”

  Jude sighed. “What is it about bad boys that turns intelligent people into hormone-driven fools?”

  She shoved him playfully. “Hey, you were a bad boy.”

  “Exactly. I’m speaking from experience. I was once that asshole that walked all over people and they let me. Don’t call him, Star.”

  “I’m not sure he’s a bad boy.” I really wasn’t. While Rafe was unpleasant, I didn’t think that translated to bad boy.

  Roger smirked at his boyfriend. “I took a chance on you even though I knew you were an asshole back then, and look how that turned out.”

  Jude frowned, but there was humor in his beautiful dark brown eyes. “I’m an anomaly. Reformed bad boys don’t happen often.”

  “Again, I’m not sure Rafe Whitman is a bad boy. He’s just a snob.”

  “A snob who turns you on?” Roger teased.

  “Only when he doesn’t open his mouth.”

  Kendall snorted into her drink.

  “I say call him,” Roger announced, reaching for my purse.

  “Surprise, surprise,” Jude murmured.

  “What? Everyone deserves a second chance.”

  “Technically, this would be his third.” I took another swig of my beer.

  “Oh, just call him. Aren’t you curious to know what he wants to hire you to do?”

  “I swear, if it’s for sex, I’ll kill him,” Jude practically snarled.

  “It’s not for sex,” I assured him. “I’m not exactly his type.”

  Jude looked affronted. “You’re everyone’s type. If I weren’t taken, I’d have tried to seduce you a million times already.”

  Kendall nodded in agreement, and I glowed at the compliment. My friends sure knew how to boost a lady’s confidence.

  “Call him,” Roger insisted.

  I wanted to. That was the problem.

  “He could offer you a lot of money to do very little work. Maybe it would help with the road trip fund.”

  Ooh, he had me there. I’d fantasized about road tripping across the country since I read Kerouac’s On the Road as a teenager. Not a likely choice, I know, but it inspired a love for road trip movies and books. Then, over the last few months, I’d grown restless and become attached to the idea that traveling would solve the problem. There was something about living life on the move, truly free of ties and commitments, that spoke to my bohemian soul.

  “Don’t call him,” Jude cautioned.

  Roger shook his head as he slid a hand over Jude’s thigh and squeezed it, as if in apology, before turning to me. “Call him.”

  Staring into my friend’s eyes, hearing Jude’s wearied sigh, I contemplated it.

  “You’re just going to obsess over it until you do,” Kendall threw in.

  And she was absolutely right.

  “Okay.” I grabbed my purse. “Order me another beer, will you? I’ll be right back.”

  “We want to hear all the juicy details!” Roger yelled over the music.

  I threw a hand over my shoulder to let him know I’d heard him and then slipped out through the crowded bar and onto the street. The bar was on the corner of a busy cross section, so I wandered away from it to hear better. It was around nine o’clock, so I hoped it wasn’t too late in the evening for Mr. Posh Vet. Pulling his card out of my purse, along with my cell, I quickly dialed his number.

  He picked up on the third ring. “No, I do not want to buy what you’re selling.”

  “Is that how you answer all of your calls?”

  There was hesitation. Then he said, “Star?”

  “You remembered,” I teased gaily.

  I could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Your number came up as unknown on my phone. Of course, I thought you were selling something. And you are, are you not?”

  The overly correct way he talked should have annoyed me.

  It did. But it also didn’t. Because it was kind of hot.

  Damn him.

  “That depends on your proposition. Warning, I will hang up if you insult me.”

  “That depends. Does ten thousand dollars a month sound insulting?”

  Ten. Thousand. Dollars. A. Month.

  My mouth went dry.

  I forced myself to be cool. “That depends. What will I be required to do for that significant amount of money?”

  “I require a fake girlfriend for an indefinite period. The amount of money reflects the fact that I’d need you to be flexible with your time for a few months. I might require you for anything up to six months.”

  A possible sixty thousand dollars? To be his fake girlfriend. But wait—

  “Before you ask, I am not soliciting you for sex. For the last year, my mother and sister-in-law have become obsessed with finding me a wife. They’ve been throwing women at me and manipulating me into dates, and I am so beyond fucking exhausted by their attempts that I just need a break. If they think I’m seeing someone, it will get them off my back.”

  Wow. And I’d thought being paid to wait in line for a cronut was ridiculous. “Seriously? It’s that bad?”

  “You saw them at my niece’s party. That was just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve been set up on more dates I didn’t know I was walking into than I care to count. They have also sent women and their pets into my clinic with fake symptoms. They have encouraged women to buy a damn pet just to have an excuse to come to my clinic.”

  Laughter bubbled on my lips.

  “It’s not funny. It’s harassment.”

  My laughter died at his tone and I felt a twinge of sympathy I didn’t want to feel for him. “Can’t you just tell them to back off?”

  “They swallowed the ‘marriage makes everything better’ Kool-Aid a long time ago. There’s no convincing them otherwise, despite—” He cut off abruptly. “Look, are you interested or not?”

  “Ten thousand dollars a month to pretend to be your girlfriend?”

  “What? You want more?”

  “No! I just . . .” The whole proposal baffled me.

  “Are you interested or not?” he repeated. “I have an early surgery in the morning and need to go to bed soon.”

  My lips twitched with laughter again. I so wanted to ruffle his uptight feathers.

  Which was probably why agreeing to this was a bad idea. Moreover, what sane person offered someone ten thousand dollars a month to fake-date them?

  As if he heard the thought he grumbled, “Look, I know it sounds erratic to pay someone thousands of dollars to pretend to date them, but the money is . . . an inheritance that I can’t . . . well . . . anyway, I just like the idea of spending it on something that seems wasteful but will actually benefit me and get them off my back.”

  “Sounds like you all need family therapy.”

  “We’re fine. We love each other. But we also drive each other mad. Like most families.”

  That was very true.

  But ten thousand dollars a month? While I’d never needed much in life, that would allow me to go on my road trip. I could make that money last and have the time of my life. Free as a bird. Moreover, I’d witnessed the intense matchmaking at his niece’s birthday party. I remembered thinking how trapped I’d have felt in that situation too. Despite his grumpiness, I experienced a twinge of sympathy again.

  Plus, ten thousand dollars.

  “I’m interested.”

  “Fine. Come to my clinic tomorrow at noon.”

  Bossy! “I’m line sitting tomorrow and have no idea how long I’ll be there.”

  “If you take this job, it will have priority over your others. Are we clear?”

  Bristling, I huffed, “Well, I haven’t accepted the job yet, so tomorrow I’m line sitting, and if I’m done at noon, I’ll be there. If I’m not going to be done at noon, I’ll text you and we’ll arrange a meeting time. Okay? Bye-bye.” I hung up before he could say anything that would absolutely change my mind about entertaining his proposal.

  As I strode toward the bar, adrenaline surging through my body, excited to tell my friends about the proposition, my cell vibrated in my hand.

  It was a text from the number I’d just dialed.

  Don’t you know it’s rude to hang up on a person?

  I saved Rafe’s number to my contacts and replied,

  I would’ve thought having a woman hang up on you was a refreshing change of pace.

  My phone buzzed in my hand again just as I neared my friends’ table.

  I’ll pay you extra if you lose the smartass attitude.

  Laughing, I quickly texted back.

  You couldn’t afford it.

  “She’s grinning like the cat that got the cream.” Roger hooted as I took my seat next to him.

  “Well, tell us.” Kendall leaned across the table. “What did he want?”

  I stared at all three of them, still reeling from Rafe’s proposal. “To change my life.”

  Chapter Four

  The veterinary clinic on Columbus Avenue wasn’t at all what I’d had in mind. I was certain I’d step into a cold modern space and instead I found myself in a clinic that, while modern, was warm and inviting.

  A massive paw print was etched into the frosted front window, along with the words WHITMAN VETERINARY CLINIC. Inside the middling-sized reception area was curved bench seating along the window with a walnut base and a thick, padded blue cushioned top. The base of the bench matched the curved walnut reception desk opposite it, where a young man sitting behind the desk wore light blue scrubs. The flooring was a light-colored parquet, the wall behind the reception desk a stone tile, the reception desk counter a shiny quartz.

  It was a fun twist on sophisticated yet inviting and . . . not what I expected.

  One woman and her tiny Chihuahua waited on the bench.

  “May I help you?” the baby-faced man in scrubs queried with a smile.

  I stepped toward the desk, my heeled boots clicking loudly against the parquet flooring. “Yeah, I have an appointment with Dr. Whitman at noon. Star Meadows.”

  His eyes lit with recognition. “Yes, Dr. Whitman told me to expect you. An emergency appointment has come in”—he glanced at the woman and her Chihuahua—“but he’ll be with you as soon as he can.”

  Nodding, I sat down at the opposite end of the bench.

  The place didn’t smell of animals, which meant Whitman’s cleaning staff was good.

  Pulling out my phone, I saw I had a text from Roger asking me if I was there yet. My friends were intrigued to see what else Rafe had to say for himself. I couldn’t deny I was curious too at the thought of doing practically nothing and earning more than enough money to travel.

  The young man got up and disappeared behind a door I hadn’t even noticed. A brief glimpse inside revealed what appeared to be a small pharmacy. He stayed in there a few minutes. Though I had a reading app on my phone, I preferred my e-reader and pulled it out of my purse. I was a big fan of books and I’d read anything. Thriller, romance, mystery, historical fiction, nonfiction. One benefit of my job was being able to inhale books during my working week.

  The sound of Rafe’s resonant voice filtering down the hallway brought my head up, and my heart started beating alarmingly fast. The downside of this proposition was, of course, the way he made me feel.

  When Rafe appeared in the reception, I felt hyperalert; every inch of me felt sensitive and awake. Goodness, he was tall. I kept forgetting how tall and broad-shouldered he was. His white coat almost strained across those shoulders. He wore a light blue button-down shirt underneath and he’d left one button open at his throat. My fingers itched to undo the next one.

  Oh boy.

  An older man walked at his side, holding a cat in a pet carrier. “Just once a day,” Rafe instructed. “And bland food for the next week.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Whitman.” The older man’s lips pinched together in worry.

  My heart fluttered as Rafe’s gaze caught mine as he crossed the room to the reception desk. He gave me an almost imperceptible nod, that stoic, hard expression on his face, before he turned to the reception desk. The guy behind it had reappeared from the mystery room while I’d been engrossed in my historical fiction book about an Old Hollywood starlet. “Finn”—Rafe’s voice caused a pleasant sensation in the pit of my stomach—“can you arrange an appointment for Millie and Mr. Danvers to see me in one week’s time?”

  “Of course.” Finn smiled warmly at the older man. “And I have Millie’s prescription ready for you.”

  Satisfied, Rafe patted Mr. Danvers on the shoulder and pivoted toward me. “I have an emergency appointment and then I’ll be right with you.”

  “Sure.” I shrugged, waving my e-reader. “I have something to keep me occupied.”

  His eyes narrowed on the device in what might have been curiosity, but it was difficult to tell with him. Rafe focused on the woman and her Chihuahua. Though he didn’t smile, his tone was a hundred times warmer as he inquired, “Ms. Van Alstyne, what brings you and Gilbert to my office today?”

  Gilbert? I eyed the tiny dog, who did not look like a Gilbert.

  As if sensing my amusement, Rafe shot me a look out of the corner of his eye.

  Gilbert? I mouthed.

  He gave me a quelling look, though I could have sworn I saw a twinkle of humor in his gaze. However, since that seemed impossible, I decided I’d imagined it.

  Ms. Van Alstyne was quietly spoken and I watched as Rafe lifted Gilbert into his arms, petting him gently and murmuring words of greeting as he also bent his head toward Gilbert’s owner, listening patiently to her as they wandered out of the reception together.