Chapter Three
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S teele
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T his is too good to be true. It’s not every day we get scolded for working during working hours, on a Monday no less, but then we get accosted in almost the same breath?
Can’t say we’ve ever been propositioned in this adorable way ever.
Which one of us would like to marry her? That’s the question that’s still hanging in the air between us.
I mean, I don’t know if she’s just actually messing with us, although I think not. Ryder thinks she is, and Holt, cranky old Holt, definitely doesn’t have time for crap like this today because, as he normally does, he’s solely taken on the worry that we’re behind schedule and faced back-to-back setbacks on two other projects we’ve undertaken even though we share everything.
“Just hear me out, okay?” she says. She talks with her hands, and damn, does she have lovely hands. Slender with red-tipped nails and dainty little wrists.
“Have you heard about Leashed to Love ?” she asks, then doesn’t wait for us to answer. “Of course you haven’t. Doesn’t look like your kind of thing.”
She’s right, and what the fuck is Leashed to Love anyway?
“So Leashed to Love is a matchmaking company I run with my best friends in the whole wide world and beyond, Tierney Vaughn and Haley Jensen. The best girls in the world, trust me. We use our fur babies like Honeypot over here,” she snuggles the pampered French Poodle in her arms, before she continues, “to match people up, and I’ve never had more fun in my entire life. My father obviously thinks I’m wasting my business degree on this, and that just makes it all the more sweeter. More on my father later.
“So Tierney has her pup, Sweetpea, and they do everlasting love matches, with thirteen marriages under their belt, including Tierney’s herself. Squee,” she hops from foot to foot in her cartoon character slippers, clearly excited about her friend's nuptials. I can’t help but smile at her vivacity. She’s something else, all right.
“Haley has... Well, Haley’s furball is called Cupid’s Ass, or Cass for short. That little canine madame is the grumpiest of dogs I’ve ever come across. And going by her given name, Cupid’s Ass’ job is to turn her nose up at people who are not compatible at all, should not be having sex, and definitely not be married. So she prevents a whole lot of heartache and hookup remorse.
“And then there’s me and Honeypot, and we do sexual chemistry, so if you want a booty call where you get to hang from the chandelier, we’re your girls,” she says, waving her little index finger between her and her dog.
Is she serious? She runs a matchmaking company with her friends and their dogs? I’m going to humor her. Ryder seems intrigued to see what else is going to come out of her mouth, and Holt clearly wants to turn her back around and send her off the site.
Although, I can’t say I won’t mind seeing the back of her again so I can get another peek at her perfectly shaped ass. Those leggings or whatever she’s wearing are worn so thin we could see her red thong through it. After seeing her gorgeous as fuck face, her ass was just a double blow to my dick.
I bring myself back to the conversation, well, monologue, since she hasn’t stopped talking.
“—not that I know what chandelier-hanging sex feels like, or humping like bunnies, or doing the hanky-panky, or any of those things, but in just over a year of us buying Leashed to Love, Honeypot and I haven’t matched up people incompatible in the sheets. That says a lot.
“Anyway, not that it matters, but Honeypot’s color is red. So is mine. Tierney's and Sweetpea’s is pink. Haley and Cass’ is purple. We’re a matchmaking company, so we drew the line on black for those two.”
She takes a breath, and all three of our gazes, even Holt’s, land on her lips. Fucking hell, they’re like two soft, satin clouds, plump, perfect, and would taste like candy in our mouths.
“So back to my father,” she begins again. “We’ve always locked heads, always, but now he wants me to marry someone that he chooses, someone who will be fitting for our family status. My family owns a huge chain of luxury hotels. You probably heard of The Williams and Co Group. That’s my father.”
Who would have guessed our little hellfire is a hotel heiress?ess.
“Suffice to say I will be marrying anyone my father chooses for me. Not ever. Now let’s backtrack to Honeypot. Remember when I said my job at Leashed to Love is to find people who are sexually compatible? Well, you know that thing that Honeypot did before? Jumping onto us and wagging her tail? Well, that means we have sexual chemistry. And like I said, Honeypot is never wrong. So I was thinking, which one of you wants to help me teach my father a lesson?
“One of you just needs to marry me. Say three months tops, and then we can get it annulled. Although given that we have this chemistry, we can have sex all three months long and then just get a divorce. Easy. So which one of you is up for the challenge?” Her pretty dark hazel eyes look at us with a hint of a plea as the breeze catches in the waves of her dark blonde hair, shimmering with hints of red.
“Sorry, you can’t only have one of us. We come as a package of three,” I say, nearly dying to see what she’s going to say.