The Hookup Handbook(57)
Not cool, man. Not cool.
I focus on her eyes, and that’s a whole new challenge, because they’re a sky blue, a gorgeous contrast to her lush, dark hair. She stares at me a little longer than I’d expect, like she’s studying my face.
I extend a hand and she takes it. “Nice to meet you, Josh,” she says, swallowing a little roughly on my name, like it surprises her or is hard to pronounce. “I’m Peyton.”
I blink. What the actual fuck? What are the chances she’s the same Peyton?
Slim to nil, right?
Has to be.
Because there’s no fucking way she can be the same Peyton. Her name isn’t a common one, but this has to be a weird coincidence.
As we shake, her blue eyes stray to my hands. She stares at them longer than usual. Like she’s cataloguing them now, too.
When she lifts her face and meets my gaze, the chance of her being Peyton just surpassed one-hundred percent. Red splashes across her cheeks. Her eyes are huge and wild. Her face is the picture of embarrassment.
I cringe, and Peyton coughs. She recognized me from my childhood photo….
Not the dick one, obviously.
“Nice to meet you,” she says, as if she’s straightening out her words and trying to speak for the first time in ages.
“Good to meet you, too, Peyton,” I say, trying to keep my tone as even as I can. I turn to Toby. “And thanks again. Especially for the cat tales.”
He laughs as he leaves, and when Peyton and I take our seats, there’s a tiny smile on her face too.
“Cat tales,” she says, with a little laugh.
“I personally prefer taking my pills with peanut butter,” I say, hoping to use humor to diffuse the situation because we both know what the other one has seen and it’s hella awkward.
The situation is all kinds of fucked up, and I need to unfuck it. Stat.
She stares at me, her nose crinkling. “So, last night …” She shakes her head, frustration etched across her pretty features.
Which means it’s time for me to launch into a full-court apology. After all, we can’t risk losing her business to someone else. “Look, Peyton. I’m sorry. I had no idea who you were. Your number must have been on my phone because of the file Brody sent me. I did not in any way, shape, or form intend to send you that picture. I am so sorry.”
It’s the only explanation. I mean, how else could I have mistaken her number for Butterflygirl6?
She sighs heavily and presses her hand to her face as if checking to see if the temperature is still high. “I seriously can’t believe you sent it to me.”
I sigh heavily. “I can’t believe I did either.”
“And I can’t believe you sent me your elementary school photo, too.”Yeah, that was weird. I see that now.
I furrow my brow, scrambling to fix the problem. “In my defense, I was trying not to seem like an asshole who sends unsolicited dick pics.”
She holds up a hand as a stop sign. “Can we just not talk about that picture?”
“The kid pic or the junk shot?”
She raises her eyes to mine. “Both. Can we have a whatever you call it in basketball? A mulligan?”
I chuckle. “That’s a golf term. But we can just call it a do-over.”
“Yes, we need a do-over,” she says with a nervous nod. “We need to pretend it never happened and go about this meeting like we’ve never met before today.”
Yeah, good fucking luck with that.
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What to Read Next
If you liked The Hookup Handbook, you’ll love Boyfriend for Hire about escort Nic and the client he falls for, Elle.
I’m the guy you call when you need to impress your overbearing family, your boss, or your ex. Yeah, I’m a male escort, but not just any escort, I’m the escort. The one with a mile-long waiting list and a pristine reputation that’s very well-deserved.
I’m the guy who’ll make you feel beautiful, desired, and worshipped . . . all for a steep price. I’m hired to make you shine, and I always deliver.
I’ll be whatever you want me to be for one night—except my true self. This is just a job, a role I play to earn a paycheck.
But I’m not the guy who falls for a client. Not once in six years.
And then I meet Elle. Her friend has hired me to escort her to a wedding, but Elle doesn’t know we’re just pretending.
There’s a fire between us I never expected. A connection I haven’t felt in so long. One kiss, and I’m losing all control.
But what will happen when she finds out who I really am?
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It all started with a sexy selfie.
Texted to the wrong number.
Oops.
Not my finest moment—but I have nothing to be ashamed of.
She thought I was no better, and I quote, than the knuckle-dragging douche-bags she was never dating again.
It was a stupid dare from a girl I’d met online, but since she’d given me a fake number, I didn’t feel bad that my interests were suddenly focused elsewhere—on the fiery and sharp-tongued, Peyton that I found myself sparring with over text for the rest of the evening.