Cheater (Curious Liaisons, #1)(3)

“If you know about it—and all parties agree to it—it’s okay.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” She shrugged. “Because I got you Fridays, but every other day? You belonged to someone else. That is never okay, no matter how charming you are.”

“A compliment—I’m touched.” I shoved a hand in my pocket. “So what will you do now? Get married? Have a ton of kids? Buy a house?”

Her smile was warm. “Maybe.”

“Good. Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding.”

She burst out laughing. “You know? I just might.”

“They all do.”

Her laughter stopped, and she stared at me, her eyes sad. “I hope one day you find what you’re looking for.”

“Bye, Jess.” I turned and didn’t look back.

I never did.





Chapter Two


AVERY

“Just one more time,” I pleaded, my eyes filled with tears. I seriously needed this internship since the last company I worked for—an Internet start-up—had to let go of ten of its lower-level employees.

Which meant.

Since I was just out of college and had only worked there for a few months.

I was shown the door.

At least it was a nice door.

Red.

And big enough to fit at least three of us side by side as they quite literally pushed us out of the building.

The celebratory Hey, you got a job! plant my parents had given me—also the first one I’d managed to keep alive—fell out of my hands from the bluntness of the shove.

My cubicle partner cried.

It had been a sad day for everyone.

Now a pregnant lady was supposed to be showing me the ropes for my new internship position under one of the VPs of the company. Her name was Sharon . . . or maybe Sharie? I’d been so flipping nervous when she’d introduced herself that I couldn’t remember which it was. Anyway, she was saying words I didn’t understand and looked about two minutes away from popping. It was a miserable start, and she didn’t have much time to train me on all my actual duties and responsibilities.

Her giant belly had grazed the front of the desk as she made her way around to me. “Look, Avery, it’s not that hard. You get coffee, you fix the copy machine, and you make sure his dry cleaning is delivered every morning. He’s one of the easiest of the VPs to work with. Hell, most days he gets his own damn dry cleaning and brings me coffee, so believe me when I say you’ll be just fine. You’ll work closely with him on every project.” She let out a rough exhale. “And at the end of the eight-week internship, he’ll grade you on your work. If you do well, you’ll get offered a permanent position.” Her face contorted a bit as she bent over and gripped the counter.

Oh my hell.

Was she going into labor?

Now?

In the office?

I didn’t know CPR.

Not that she would need CPR, or that the baby would. Ahh! I was a nervous wreck. “Are you okay?”

I patted her awkwardly on the back.

She quickly straightened and let out a little sigh. “The baby’s trying to move, and space is limited in there.”

“You don’t say.” I smiled through my teeth. The woman was tiny; I was surprised she’d made it this far without popping. “Are you having twins?”

Her glare said it all.

“I was kidding,” I said quickly.

“Don’t lie,” she fired back. “Now, I’d like to enjoy the rest of my leave in peace, so if you have any questions you can always ask Lucas.”

“Lucas?” I tried to keep the shudder to myself. I hated that name. It conjured up images of complete and utter loathing, and I almost always associated the name with the horrible things in life, like Ebola. Actually, the two things were interchangeable, Lucas and Ebola.

“Your boss.” She rolled her eyes. “Tell me you at least know who you’re working for.”

No. Because when the job agency called and said that Grant Learning had an opening in their paid internship program, I jumped at it as fast as I could. The only thing I did was a quick Google search about the company.

I was desperate and needed the money so I could pay rent and stave off homelessness and starvation.

Okay, so it wasn’t that bad, but it was close. And the last thing I wanted to do was move back home. My family lived in Marysville, and because I’d lived in downtown Seattle for several months, the thought of going home to that had me ready to walk the streets handing out my résumé.

I was quite possibly willing to sleep with a creepy old man to get a job.

So maybe not creepy.

Old?

Maybe.

My mom would kill me if she could hear my thoughts right now.

But my parents had this nasty habit of oversharing every single detail about their lives, and they expected me to return the favor. When my dad got a hangnail last week, he texted me a picture of it and asked if he should go to a doctor.

When I didn’t answer, he texted the pic again with the message: I don’t think you got this.

The good news? The picture was bigger that time.

My parents were—special.

And my bedroom? Still filled with stuffed animals from my childhood, and with plush pink carpeting.