Junk Mail(9)

“Josh Hanson.”

Libby leans over Sabrina’s shoulder as she scrolls, then stops on Josh’s head shot. Their eyes widen, and for a second, I’m worried I’ll have to pick Libby’s jaw up off the floor.

“Holy shit,” Sabrina whispers, zooming in on Josh’s angular jawline. “Are you sure this is the co-owner and not some model they hired to try to win you over as a client?” She turns her phone to face me, as if to get confirmation that this is, in fact, the guy.

The picture hardly does him justice, but I’d recognize that cocky smile from a mile away. If only they knew I could one-up this image with the “self-portrait” of Josh I have on my phone.

“That’s him.”

“I presume this means that after the deal is closed . . . well, that you’re going to go after that, right?” Libby props her elbows on the table and leans in toward me. She’s the more sexually adventurous of my friends.

Normally, I adore that about her, but right now? I need her to stop talking. ASAP.

“Yeah, right. That would be super inappropriate.”

Libby makes a face like she just sucked on a lemon. “What’s inappropriate is how long it’s been since you’ve gotten laid,” she blurts out a little louder than I’d like.

Sabrina raises her glass and drinks in agreement. “Cheers to that. Please tell me there’s been somebody, anybody, since that pencil-dick ex of yours.”

Sheesh, first Gram, now Sabrina and Libby. My total lack of a sex life may as well be front-page news at this point.

It’s my own fault—working nonstop, thinking I can exist entirely on work, takeout dinners, and my favorite dirty Tumblr page at night when sleep won’t come. It’s been a gross mistake on my part to remain in a self-imposed state of celibacy for the better part of two years.

The worst part about it all is that they’re totally right. I need a man. A red-blooded male with a functioning cock. And stat.

Josh’s cock looked pretty damn functioning.

Shit. I’m woman enough to admit that it won’t be Josh’s cock in my future. That much is certain. It can’t be, no matter how much I want it to be. If I have to choose between success and my sex drive, Tumblr will always be there for me with no strings or awkward meetings attached.

But opportunities like this might not be.





Chapter Seven


Josh



I’m eight blocks into my walk home from work when my phone buzzes with the message I’ve been waiting for all afternoon.

Brody: How’d the meeting go?

I knew this text was coming, but that doesn’t mean I have a good answer to it. I pause, stepping out of the flow of foot traffic to stare at the text for a second before I respond.

Josh: Funny story . . . eggplant emoji

As quickly as I’ve typed the text, I delete it. I can’t let Brody know about my screwup. But I can’t ignore him either, so I go for a vaguer approach.

Josh: Went great. Work on getting the gluten out of your system. Talk more tomorrow.

When he responds with a thumbs-up emoji, my whole body relaxes. Thank God, I’ve got more time to figure out my strategy in dealing with Peyton and our business plans.

Having my business partner double as my best friend has never been a problem before, but then again, I’ve never been one to mix work and sex. I’m a professional, after all, not some horny intern who doesn’t know the rules of the workplace. I’ve been deliberate about keeping my hookups far, far away from my work life. Because they’re just that—hookups. A way to blow off steam here and there.

If this were a normal dating-app match gone wrong for me, Brody would be laughing his ass off with me over drinks—of course, beer for me and tequila for Brody’s gluten-intolerant ass. But this situation is about as normal as a three-headed pit bull, and as dangerous too. Brody spent weeks hunting down the right business to collaborate with before he landed on Peyton’s genius little company. He’d have every right to kick me in the nuts if he knew I nearly fucked up his deal by sliding dick-first into Peyton’s DMs.

When I’m back in the apartment, I grab a beer from the fridge and open my calendar app to check my availability this week. Amidst all the weirdness, I didn’t accomplish half the shit Brody had wanted me to get done with Peyton at this meeting. Which means I’m going to have to set up another meeting soon.

My dick perks up at the thought, but I will it to stand down. This isn’t the time for my dick to start acting up, and it’s certainly not the girl, no matter how goddamned sexy she looked during our meeting today. What I’d give to have those pretty, pouty lips open up for me. She’s already seen what I’m packing. I could have asked her if she wanted a taste.

Nope, nope, nope. Get it out of your system now, dude, because this won’t fly.

This potential partnership could be next level for our company, so the only thing that’s allowed to be hard around here is the work I’m putting in. Nothing else is an option.

With work on my mind, I settle in on the couch with my beer and tap open my email. Maybe logging a few more hours will serve as a cold shower for my wandering, dirty mind.

First on the to-do list: arranging another meeting with Peyton.

I open a new email and start carefully crafting my message. No slipping up and accidentally saying nuts again, Hanson. Time to pull out all the stops on all the least sexy corporate terminology I learned in business school. For good measure, I work in the word synergy so she knows I’m not messing around.