#he looks super hot even bald and nobody can’t change my mind

[faretheeoscar]

Twitter already suffered…

Tiktok too..

It’s time for me to bring you my love Bald Isaac

[thebachelordiaries]

Clare seeks HIMBO: ‘The Bachelorette’ cast first impressions

The Covid-19 pandemic has been rough for the entire world, but Bachelor Nation faced some dark days too. Going eight months without a single new episode from The Bachelor franchise is something I would really like to not relive.

Fortunately, those dark days are over. Clare’s season has me sucked back in. 

The quality of this image is atrocious.

Most of these men—presuming they followed CDC’s social distancing guidelines— haven’t seen a woman in months, are touch deprived, possibly unemployed and contemplating moving back to their hometown while stalking the housing market on Zillow. Everyone’s desperate. That makes for some pretty good TV.

This season features men ranging from ages 26 to 41. We’ve got a boy band manager, a grooming specialist, several men who look like they masturbate in front of full length mirrors and even more who probably want me to join their MLM pyramid scheme. 

I’ve never been more ready to roast a bunch of men who have nightmares about going bald. It’s all I’ve wanted to do since March.

Let’s go:

AJ, 28, Software sales

AJ is the kind of guy who writes “Looking for the Pam to my Jim <3″ on his Bumble profile. His bio is generic and probably not reflective of who he is as a person. If I were Clare I’d swipe left.

Ben, 29, Army ranger veteran

“Ben's favorite indulgence is an ice bath.“ Well then.

Alexa, play “Run” by AWOLNATION.

Bennett, 36, Wealth management consultant

Bennett’s profile is the biggest red flag I’ve ever seen. This man says he is the total package but hasn’t always been "this successful and good looking.” But wait, there’s more: “According to Bennett, his high school girlfriend is the only girl he's ever had to work for.“

Can someone tell me what NYC neighborhood he lives in so I can blacklist it?

Blake M1, 31, Male grooming specialist

Blake’s just another stereotypical “29th round draft pick who sat on the bench of the practice team before getting cut, but claims he left the sport due to an injury on his own accord.” 

Blake M2, 29, Wildlife manager

This Blake is an outdoorsy Canadian who seems pretty genuine and cool. Unfortunately, he has the face of someone who’d get sent home on night one. I hope I’m wrong.

Brandon, 28, Real Estate Agent

Just another boring hot person. Nothing to see here.

Brendan, 30, Commercial roofer

Brandan, not to be confused for Brandon, “loves some good true crime, working out and hanging out with his friends.” I can’t even make fun of this man. We have the exact same interests. 

Chasen, 31, IT account executive

The Winklevoss twins are actually triplets and Chasen is their long lost brother. But more seriously, have you ever seen someone who looks more like their name than this man?

Chris, 27, Landscape design salesman

“Chris hopes to find a woman who is sharp and witty but also easygoing.” Chris, sweetheart, have you met Clare? Easygoing...? There’s still time back out of this before it’s too late.

Dale, 31, Former pro football wide receiver

Dale aggressively screams “Bachelor material.” I’d say he’s auditioning for that role but Matt James already scooped it up. Better luck next year, Daley.

Demar, 26, Spin cycling instructor

Demar is a “very popular spin instructor in Scottsdale and says he can get on that bike and spin to any beat thrown his way.” Imagine how many trophy wives Demar has f*cked? 

Eazy, 29, Sports marketing agent

Eazy is very similar to Dale on paper. Except his name is Eazy so he automatically loses that battle.

Ed, 33, Health care salesman

“Ed is looking to find a woman who has natural beauty without looking overly fake.” Ed deserves to die alone.

Garin, 34, Professor of Journalism

Garin’s bio is giving me hubby material vibes. And maybe a little bit of a “gets eliminated on night one” vibe too.

Ivan, 28, Aeronautical Engineer

Ivan, what are you doing here? We’re in a recession. Please go back to your normal job before it’s too late. 

Jason, 31, Former pro football linemen

“He is a former NFL offensive lineman who, after suffering too many concussions on the field, decided to prioritize his health and change the direction of his life.” A big, brawny HIMBO with CTE? I feel like he’s Clare’s type.

Jay, 29, Fitness director

There are too many things about Jay that I dislike and I’m trying to keep this brief. Jay says “it's time to take a break from worrying about others and focus on himself instead.” I am willing to bet money that this man has never made a woman c*m.

Jeremy, 40, Banker

Jeremy is the oldest contestant ever to come on "The Bachelorette,” which may seem like a monuments accomplishment but he’s literally only one year older than Clare. 

He also “hates Instagram models, both male and female,” so he should have a lot of fun here.

Joe, 36, Anesthesiologist

Before I even saw his profession and location, I thought Joe looked like a doctor I’d find on a NYC dating app...and...uh...I probably did see him on there now that I think about it.

Anyway, this man has apparently been through seven stages of hell while on the front lines fighting Covid-19 in NYC so I definitely think he deserves to find love. Someone marry him please.

Jordan C, 26, Software account executive

I can already tell Jordan is going to get the “I’m young but mature” edit which means he’s probably not going to be good TV.

Too bad someone a tad younger (like Tayshia) wasn’t the Bachelorette. I feel like they’d make a cute couple.

Jordan M., 30, Cyber security engineer

I was going to say something mean but Jordan’s into cyber security and I don’t want my blog to be deactivated, so never mind. Cast photos are historically bad so I’m sure he looks much better in real life.

Kenny, 39, Boy band manager

I could go for the obvious drags regarding this man’s profession (or his sh*tty chest tattoo, or his suspiciously boyish face relative to his age), but I like to think I’m more clever than that. 

I’d like to take this time to talk about men, who are obviously difficult people, who rant and rave about how they want an “easygoing” woman. Look into the mirror, bud. No, not the one you use to jerk off to your reflection; the mirror that looks into your soul. Out of respect for the rest of humankind, have some self-awareness. Or maybe just see a therapist.

Mike, 38, Digital media advisor

Mike is seemingly a decent catch, but I can’t help but wonder why he’s still single or how he never (accidentally or on purpose) impregnated a woman in his 38 years of life. 

And now that I’m thinking about it, do any of these men have children? I have yet to see any mention of it in their bios. But there are eight men left to review, so there’s still time.

Page, 37, Chef

I spoke too soon. Page is a father! He also hates football! I’m a fan of this man. I was initially going to drag him for his name and say that Page is not a real name. PAIGE is a real name. PAGE is a piece of paper. I’m allowed to say this because we have the same name except mine is spelled the correct way. Based on my (mostly positive) review of his cast bio, I have decided not to hold his name against him.

Riley, 30, Long Island City

Riley, once married with children, would like to go on a family vacation that consists of touring every single MLB stadium in the country. If i were his wife, I would simply never give this man children.

Robby, 30, Insurance broker

No more Robbys on The Bachelorette. Society has evolved past its need for more Robbys.

This Robby described his dream woman as: “Incredibly athletic and able to throw back a few beers with him after a day of hiking. She has a sweet personality and won't mind that he spends his Sundays on the golf course.”

Someone please give this man a sex doll. He just wants a hole.

Tyler C., 27, Lawyer

“Tyler C. is a badass lawyer who says he is a businessman by day and a cowboy by night.” How does that make him a lawyer? Does this mean he’s into cosplay? I’m confused.

Tyler S., 36, Music manager

Tyler makes an honorable living off riding his brother’s dick success as a country singer. “He just LOVES his job!” Uh yeah, I would too if I had a low-show, high-paying job off the merits of nepotism. It’s the American dream.

Yosef, 30, Medical device salesman

Another dad! He’s totally going to pull the “girl dad” narrative. That saying is kind of sexist to me but the masses generally eat it up, so I’m fairly confident Yosef will get the "sweet guy” edit he’s looking for.

Zac C., 36, Addiction specialist

“He loves Philadelphia sports and dreams of sharing a Philly Cheesesteak with his future wife while watching the Eagles win a Super Bowl.” This man is so South Jersey it hurts. 

On a more serious note, I don’t think anyone in recent history has spoken openly about their personal struggle with addiction on this show, so I hope Zac gets a chance to tell his story. 

Zach J., 37, Cleaning service owner

Zach is seemingly obsessed with Clare already and hopes to introduce her to his mom as his fiancée. Since Zach watched Clare on Juan Pablo’s season, you’d think he’d know that Clare would first meet his mom during the final four hometown dates. Assuming he makes it that far. My prediction is that he won’t.

Final thoughts

After eight long months Bachelor Mondays are back!!!

Uhh....wait.

Actually, we now have the less-exciting Bachelor Tuesdays. Yeah, it definitely doesn’t have the same ring to it. But I’ll take anything at this point.

Here are my final predictions:

First impression rose: Dale. It just looks like he can turn on the bullsh*t charm

Final rose: Jason. Clare wants a HIMBO I just know it.

Bachelor: nobody (Matt James is The Bachelor)

Most likely to get engaged on Bachelor in Paradise: Blake M2

Most likely to get canceled online: Bennett

Most likely to get sent home night one but deserve better: Chris

Who are your favorite men cast on this season?

[you-got-a-crush]

Request- Let's Not Rush This

Anon: Hi! I love your imagines! Could I request an imagine with my crush being like super super shy and sweet and he always blushes when I’m around and then one day I just invite him to my house and we drink got chocolate and I’m the one who initiates everything like cuddling and can we also kiss! Just really fluffy! Thank you so much! My name is Amber and his name is nat btw if you want to use them idm if you don’t! :) :)

✨Ahhhh thank you so much! I’m so sorry for taking so long to write this. It’s mainly because I’ve never written anything that dealt with the person crushing initiating stuff so I hope this turned out well. I’ve also decided to not mention you guys’ names because I wanted it to be more universal for anyone else who reads it. Thanks for the request!✨

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, are you doing anything after school?” “Uh, um… no I-I don’t think so,” he says, blushing profusely. You laugh lightly and touch his arm, okay, you were a little nervous too, but you just had that gut feeling you know? That feeling when you know you have to do something and there’s no way around it. Besides, there was no way this puddle of a person was going to ask you anytime soon. He was great, almost the perfect yin to your yang but that meant that he was probably the most shy and introverted person you’ve ever met. “Awesome! Do you wanna come over to my house? You can just walk home with me, it’s not too far away,” C/N continued to blush and fumble around with the books he was putting away at his locker, “Uh yeah sure Y/N, I’ll text my mom,” “I’m sure she’ll be fine with it,” you say rolling your eyes playfully and nudging his arm again, “don’t be so worried,” “Yeah, um, will do,” he stuttered out, adjusting his hair even though it didn’t need to be. You had noticed over time that he had nervous ticks, like adjusting his hair or biting his nails, but that just made him all the more cute. The two of you stared at each other, lost in the others eyes for a few fleeting moments before the bell ringing jerked you two apart slightly. You waved at him and walked to your next class, not really caring about being late now. He said yes!! You wanted to jump up and down and scream down the halls but continued to keep yourself collected and cool enough so nobody suspected the zoo bouncing around in your chest. This is my chance to really make something happen, and I’m not gonna blow it. - You had met him at his locker and were now walking together down the street to where your house was. It was mainly you starting and continuing all of the conversation, but you didn’t mind too much, after all, any chance talking with C/N was a good one. “So, um, yeah. What do you want to do when we ah… get to your house?” C/N stuttered out quietly. “Oh, I was thinking we might watch that one Netflix documentary that Y/T/N wanted us to watch over the weekend. That way, we can hit two birds with one stone!” “Yeah, I forgot about that assignment actually,” he laughed and smiled looking up at the shining sky, brushing his fingers against his hair. In just that moment I could see the outline of his nose and his collarbone and his jaw and his hair all coming together perfectly from the light of the sun. He looked way more relaxed than he did before, which was more than what I’d hoped would happen. We continued walking in silence, backpacks slung over our shoulders, and although it was silent the silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was simply silence, each of us lost in thought. Our destination arrived quickly and we made our way inside. “Are you thirsty for anything? I’ve got water, soda, hot chocolate, lemonade, just about everything,” “Wait, you have hot chocolate?” C/N’s eyes widened slightly and his mouth turned up into a lopsided grin. “Heck yeah, I mean it’s warm outside but I don’t see why we can’t have any,” You pulled out the hot chocolate and the mugs and you both worked together to make it in your kitchen. Both of your parents weren’t home, they never got home until after 6:00, so you had loads of time to start up the movie, watch it, and have him leave before anyone noticed. You guys both set up the living room with blankets, popcorn, and the hot chocolate for, in his words, “prime movie watching,”. Sometimes you would catch him staring at you and then looking away and blushing, which was the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen. It was still unbelievable to you, that C/N, whom you’ve been silently crushing on since forever, is in your house, about to watch a movie with you, alone. The alone part was by far the most exciting part, and you could sense that he was thinking about it too when he suddenly piped up after taking a sip of his hot chocolate. “Hey, um, where your bathroom?” “Oh yeah there’s one down that hall right there, I’ll start up the movie while you’re doing your business,” you both laughed and as he made his way down the hall you shouted, “Don’t fall in!” He turned around and you were sure that he rolled his eyes and blushed again, and then walked back towards his destination. The sun was still shining through the curtains in the living room so you shut them and turned off some of the lights so you guys could both see the movie better. The more you stood there and looked at everything, the more nervous you got. Is this too much? Where are we gonna’ sit? Should I “set the mood” or leave it like this? Is it too dark? Oh jeez now he’s gonna really think that something’s up. After a couple minutes of you suddenly freaking out an overthinking the whole situation you suddenly snapped to attention when you heard C/N’s voice coming from the hallway, “Hey I’m back, your bathroom is so cool I couldn’t stop playing with the sink,” “You’re such a dork,” you say, turning around to face him to see his shirt with small water stains all over it. “Nobody’s ever called me that before, well nobody except my mom,” he blushed slightly and adjusted his hair for about the billionth time. “Well I’m happy to be the first, I got the movie all set up so we can just dive right in from here!” You scooted over on the couch for him to sit next to you, which he did, but made sure to leave a lengthy space in between the two of you. Of course, you could change that. About 20 minutes into the movie you found yourself moving closer and closer to C/N, and him doing the same, probably not intentionally on his part. You lied your head onto his shoulder, and you didn’t need to look up to know that a blush was creeping up his face. You felt him freeze slightly against your touch, then relax. Surprisingly, he set his arm around your shoulder, and rested his body closer to your own. The rest of the movie was full of more cuddling, which took you by surprise. I didn’t think it would all happen so fast. I thought he’d be a harder egg to crack, but I guess this is better than having to pine the night away waiting for something to happen. As the ending credits rolled you wished that it was longer, you wished the night could’ve lasted forever. You felt C/N shift, moving his arms from around you and beginning to face you on the couch properly. You, of course, shifted yourself accordingly and faced him too, “Hey, thanks for asking me to come over, I had a really fun time,” “No problem, I’m really happy you were able to come,” He scratched the back of his head, and winced slightly before saying, “Yeah, and to tell you the truth I do really like you,” now instead of his face flushing red you felt yours heating up, “…but I don’t want to rush things, I don’t want to rush all of this,“ You felt yourself falter slightly, what does he mean by that? “Well, of course, I don’t want to either. I just thought���” “No no, I get it, I just… I just don’t want this thing,” he said, motioning towards the space in between the both of us, “to be like just some sort of fling. I want to really get to know you. I know from class that you’re bubbly and always upbeat but I feel like that’s not the entire Y/N, I feel like there’s so much more that I want to explore,” Your heart leapt and soared farther and farther away from you, pumping and beating faster than normal. You’ve been known to be outgoing yeah, but to find someone who saw that there was more to you than that, it meant the world. “Me too, I feel exactly the same way about you. You’re so quiet and I feel like you’re such a mystery to everyone. I want to be the kind of person to know what everyone doesn’t. I want you to be comfortable around me. I wasn’t trying to rush things if that’s what you were thinking. I just wanted to at least have something to start with.” C/N smiled, and took your hand leading you towards your door, “I’m gonna’ have to go, I think that’s my mom,” he said quietly, motioning his head towards the window from which you could see headlights balding brightly. “Thank you again, you know, for coming,” “The pleasure is all mine,” and with that, he bent downwards to kiss the hand he was holding, looking through his eyelashes back up at you. You bit your lip and a warm closed smile grew across your face. No more words were needed to be said that night, he slipped his shoes and jacket on, grabbed his backpack, and with one final glance around his shoulder he left and joined his mom at the end of the driveway. As the car drove away you stared from inside of the house, waving, not caring whether he saw or not. You weren’t going to rush things, it didn’t matter if it took years of small gestures or months of knowing smiles and glances, this wasn’t going to be something carelessly tossed to the side. This… thing that had begun to bud was slowly going to turn into something magical and you couldn’t wait until then. In the meantime, you could learn to love waiting for the right moment, instead of forcing it on something not meant to be.

[anavoliselenu]

Hiched chapter 3

For instance, what made him take me to the mail room today? He practically dragged me downstairs. Whatever his reason, he thinks it’s important. Was he trying to give me a reality check, remind me that I’m not the only one with problems around here, so I should suck it up? Or was he just trying to show me his warm fuzzy side?

If the latter was his goal, it kind of worked. I have to admit that Rosita and Justin act adorable together. Almost like mother and son. The most stone-faced person on Earth would smile at their affection. And it’s not like I ever thought Justin lacked integrity or kindness, just the finer points of self-discipline. I have plenty of evidence to believe that getting closer to him won’t be so bad.

But while I can hazard guesses all day, I want to hear Justin’s explanation in his own words. And we’re overdue for a topic change anyway.

“Why did you introduce me to Rosita?” I ask.

“To show you what’s at stake.”

Despite fully anticipating it, his holier-than-thou tone still makes my lip curl. “As if I had no clue about the gravity of our situation. That’s the whole point of doing this trial period—to see how well we can play ball together before committing to a team-up. I’m doing my best to become friends with you, so . . .”

He tilts his head with a half smile. “Just friends? I’ve got my sights set a little higher.”

Gee, I never would have guessed, what with his constant attempts to steer the conversation toward sex.

I quirk one eyebrow in skepticism. “Friendship is all we need to pull this thing off. And we’re pretty much starting from square one . . . I would call us acquaintances, at best. Don’t you think you’re being a little overambitious?”

“Nope,” he replies, cocky smile still firmly in place.

I roll my eyes. “Wow. Your arrogance truly has no limits.”

“If I can put my money where my mouth is . . .” His lustful smirk makes it clear exactly where he’d like to put his mouth. “Then it’s not arrogance. Just confidence.”

“What makes you think I would want more with you, anyway? You aren’t exactly my type.”

I expect him to just give me a knowing look, or maybe toss back some mild innuendo. What I absolutely did not expect was, “Because I have a nine-inch cock.”

I almost choke on my martini for a third time. I splutter, “Is that number supposed to impress me?” Does he seriously expect me to believe that kind of porn-star bullshit?

“It’s the truth,” he purrs, leaning slightly closer. “And I know how to use it. Along with my tongue, my hands . . . just ask any woman I’ve been with.”

“Spare me the play-by-play. You’ve fucked half of New York City. I’m willing to believe that you learned something in the process.”

“First, I haven’t fucked half of New York. Believe it or not, I’m pretty discerning. Second, instead of hearsay, why not just see for yourself?”

I give him a skeptical look. “You want to show me your dick?”

“If it’ll help convince you.” He drains the last drops of his Scotch and stands up. “Come on, let’s go.”

I stare after him as he walks away.

Is he serious? He’s just going to whip it out? I look around to see if anyone is watching me, then I get up and follow him to the bar’s back hallway, near the restrooms, unable to comprehend why the hell I’m humoring him. This is ridiculous.

Once we’re safely in a private corner, Justin undoes his belt, opens his fly . . . and pulls out a fucking fire hose.

Holy mother of God. My hands fly to my mouth. I want to gasp in shock, but there’s no way I’m giving him the upper hand.

He was right. His cock is nothing short of massive, and it’s not even fully erect right now. Nine inches may actually be a conservative estimate of what it might look like hard. He must destroy men’s egos every time he walks into a locker room. And I don’t even want to think about what he destroys with women . . .

“Meh. I’ve seen bigger,” I force out, fighting to maintain my composure.

Justin chuckles. “I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

“Well, th-that monster is not coming anywhere near my uterus. No, thank you. I prefer to keep my organs intact.”

Justin’s grin widens. “I doubt that, but just to be on the safe side, I’ll ease it in nice and slow. Piece of cake. Plus, you’ve got good health insurance, right?”

“That is not funny, Justin. Now, put that thing away or I’ll remove it.”

I try to sound stern, but my shaking voice and bright red cheeks surely give me away. Why the hell can’t I stop staring?

He chuckles—yeah, the jerk can definitely see right through me—but he obliges, tucking the beast back into its lair.

I try to compose myself as we head back to the bar. Once seated, as coolly as I can, I say, “This doesn’t change my opinion, you know.”

“Really? Not at all?” He raises his eyebrows.

Of course, seeing his dick made an impression. How could it not? But I’ll be damned if I stroke his . . . ego any more than I already have.

“Look, this whole dating thing is just to prove that we can live and work together. You don’t need to go for extra credit.”

“But what if I want to?”

“Justin . . .”

“Would you at least be willing to try it? We could start super slow. Set strict limits. Like, say . . .” He waves his hand vaguely. “Nothing past first base.”

“A trial run within a trial run,” I say slowly, tasting the idea. I’m a little skeptical, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to fool around a little. I can always call game over if I’m feeling underwhelmed.

“Exactly. Just testing the waters. We can pretend we’re back in high school or something.”

I take a long sip of my drink, considering. Then I reply, “I’ll think about it.”

Chapter Five

Justin

Game on.

Chapter Six

Selena

Oh, joy. The renowned marketing firm of Wesson, Burke and Barsol has sent a vulture. And for some godforsaken reason, our board of directors agreed to let him blow hot air through his yellowing teeth for an hour and call it a “negotiations meeting.”

Tate & Cane has been rivals with WBB from day one. So, naturally, its CEO started salivating as soon as he smelled blood. Officially, the vulture is an “acquisitions representative,” but the formality of that title is just a smoke screen. He’s here to try to pick the carcass before it’s even stopped moving.

Holding back an aggravated sigh, I shift in my seat at the conference table. I don’t have time for this bullshit; I have an entire company to rehabilitate. “Meeting with potential buyers” is about as far down my to-do list as it gets. Especially since I have no idea what this jerk is even doing here, other than wasting everyone’s time and sending my blood pressure through the roof. It’ll be ninety days—no, eighty-six now—until the board even decides whether they want to sell Tate & Cane, let alone who they’ll sell it to.

Maybe all this stress is just making me hysterical, but I can’t keep my mouth from twitching at the sight of the rep’s hair. He has, without a doubt, one of the greasiest, scraggliest, saddest comb-overs I’ve ever seen. And I’ve been part of the elite corporate world since I was old enough to hold Dad’s hand at company dinners. Trust me, I know my bad comb-overs.

How appropriate . . . a bald vulture. Maybe I should check his hands for talons. I take a sip of coffee just to hide my smirk.

Dad clears his throat to interrupt the rep’s rambling. “Excuse me, Mr. Valmont, but I’d just like to clarify a few points.”

The rep blinks a few times, as if he’s forgotten that there were other people in the room. “Yes, Mr. Chairman?”

“Your purchase offer seems very low. Our company’s total value has been estimated at over twice this figure. And your planned policy changes are quite extensive.” Dad peers over his glasses at his copy of WBB’s proposal. “Not to mention the universal layoffs—surely you don’t have to fire all of our current employees?”

“Freshly acquired companies always undergo some restructuring.” The rep adjusts his tie. “It’s standard industry practice, as I’m sure you already know. Buyers have to make sure that their new asset fits into their, ah . . . their corporate culture.”

“Of course,” Dad says. “Just making sure the board understands.”

Oh yeah, the board understands, all right. Nobody sitting at the conference table has even the trace of a smile.

I steal a glance at Justin, who’s sitting just to my left. He looks absolutely miserable—brow furrowed, lips pressed tight, shoulders tensed around his ears. His body language is shocking, especially for a man who’s normally as cool as a cucumber.

A pang of sympathy tightens my chest. I feel the unexpected urge to reach out and take Justin’s hand. It’s gone as quickly as it comes, but the underlying ache remains. God knows I’m not his biggest fan, but with potential buyers in the room, my choice is a no-brainer. Of course I’ll stand firm with Justin. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Except Justin isn’t just the enemy of my enemy. We really are on the exact same side here. We’re both doing this for the same reasons—for our fathers, our futures, for all the people who depend on T&C’s jobs to feed their families. And we stand to lose the same high stakes. I know Justin won’t give up without a fight.

The ache in my chest deepens, softens into something that feels almost like loyalty. Solidarity.

Justin’s eyes flick over to mine; he must have sensed my gaze on him. As subtly as I can, I incline my head and give him a small, tight-lipped smile. I don’t want the vulture or even Dad to see what I’m doing. This message is meant only for the two of us.

Don’t worry. We’re going to outsmart these fuckers. I swear on our mothers’ graves, we’ll win.

The vulture gets up from his chair with a creak. Justin looks back at him, breaking our brief connection.

“My employers urge you to consider committing to this sale as soon as possible,” Valmont says. “Our offer is quite generous, and it won’t be on the table indefinitely.”

“We’ll be sure to keep WBB in mind if we ever decide to sell,” Dad replies smoothly, ignoring the man’s limp-dicked attempt at a threat. “Thank you for coming to visit us today.”

I give a tiny mental cheer. Hell yeah! Dad said if, not when. Small victories.

The rep doesn’t look impressed by Dad’s carefully neutral non-smile. Probably because he knows that “we’ll keep you in mind” is just a polite translation of “go piss up a rope.” But what did WBB expect, trying to sneak in ahead of the competition like this?

The meeting is adjourned. Dad excuses himself—probably to wash up after shaking the rep’s slimy hand. As I head back toward my office, Justin catches up with me in the hall.

“You doing okay?” he asks.

Justin’s asking me that? He was the one who looked on the verge of strangling that prick back there.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I sigh. “Just pissed off.”

“I thought you were always pissed off,” he teases.

“Only when I’m around you,” I fire back automatically, but without any real feeling. I’m still too distracted and stressed out.

Justin just chuckles, as if we’re playing tennis instead of trading insults. I have to admit, his laugh is a nice sound—and I like seeing him this way a lot better than what I saw at the meeting. Even if he can be an annoying little shit when he’s cheerful.

We walk together for a minute, with only the soft pad of our footsteps and the low murmur of office chatter in the background.

“What about you?” I finally ask. “Are you okay?”

“I feel a lot better now that I’m talking to you.”

More flirting. Why does he have to keep messing with me like that? And why does my stomach always have to give a little flip in response? I hate how easily he can make me react.

“But back there, not so much,” Justin continues. “I thought I was going to punch that asshole in his smug face. This company isn’t just numbers on a spreadsheet. These are people’s lives they’re planning to fuck up.”

“Right . . . like Rosita. You care so much about her.” From yesterday, I already knew that they were close, but seeing Justin get so upset really drives home how important she is to him.

His sigh is deep and troubled. “How could I not? She’s one of the sweetest people to ever walk the Earth. And she has a family to worry about.”

Suddenly he stops and faces me, the corners of his mouth picking up again, but his eyes telling me he’s still troubled about the meeting and what we learned. “Well, this is me. I guess it’s time to get back to work.”

I look around and see he’s right—we’re standing outside his office door.

Here already? When did we walk all this way? Time must have flown by.

I feel an odd twinge of disappointment, unwilling to end this conversation yet. I don’t know what else to say; I just feel like talking to Justin a little longer.

Or maybe I just don’t want to be alone right now. I want to hang on to that moment we shared at the meeting. The reassuring, invigorating sense that we’re fighting by each other’s sides. Allies in the trenches. Misery loves company, I guess . . .

But my to-do list is too long for me to pay attention to such a tiny, nebulous feeling. So I shake off my reluctance and nod good-bye at Justin.

“I’ll see you later.”

“Not too much later, I hope.” With a wink, Justin disappears into his office.

Gah . . . tummy flip, right on cue. Screw him—no, wait, don’t screw him. I mean, forget him. And his monster penis. I have a million things to do and I’ve already wasted half the day.

I turn on my heel and head for my office. Maybe my feelings will settle down once I start working. I’ll bury myself in tough financial problems, get a good flow going, and let all distractions slip away.

But the idea of solitude, normally blissful, still rubs me the wrong way for some reason. And as my mind wanders, so do my feet. I find myself in front of Dad’s door instead of my own.

I let myself inside his office, savoring the church-like silence, the calming scents of wood polish and coffee and paper. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always felt at home in this office. I was practically raised here, after all. I’ve read every volume of every book and business journal on its shelves. I know every inch of this room, and its familiarity soothes my jangled nerves.

The door opens again with a soft click, and Dad says, “I knew I’d find you here.”

I can hear the smile in his voice without even turning around. Which is good, because I’m suddenly too tired to do anything more than breathe.

“Something you want to talk about?”

Bypassing his mahogany desk and the imposing throne behind it, Dad sits on the squat leather armchair by the coffee table. I take the armchair on its other side. It makes the same awkward farting noise it’s made for the past eighteen years.

“No. I mean . . .” I sigh. “Maybe.”

I don’t even know what I need right now. My thoughts are still flying in all directions: The vulture, somehow dismissive and hungry at the same time. The tense misery in Justin’s pose. Dad’s careworn face, its wrinkles deepening by the day. The board’s insane deadline. All the work that lies ahead of me—of us. The mere word “us,” the idea that soon, I’ll become a we instead of a me.

But maybe that isn’t such a terrible fate. Partnership has its good points as well as bad. I’ve seen that synergy firsthand, in the way that Dad and Bill Tate led this company together.

And I remember the glance I shared with Justin back in the conference room. That split second of mutual understanding, where I saw straight through Justin’s eyes. I could tell exactly how he felt—alone, overwhelmed—and suddenly I didn’t feel so alone and overwhelmed myself. Putting on a brave face for him bolstered my own courage. Even now, I feel stronger and calmer for having smiled at him.

It’s actually kind of amazing just how powerful one glance can be. How much it can communicate. How it can pull me out of despair, even slow down my heartbeat . . . or speed it up. Like what happened between us in the hall a few minutes ago. Or the meeting where he kissed my hand.

For God’s sake, is my libido ever going to shut up? Now is really not the fucking time. Ugh, wait. Poor choice of words.

“You still there, sweetie?” Dad asks.

I blink back to reality. Shit, I got lost in thought again. My thoughts are pretty easy to get lost in these days.

“Sorry. I just . . . I don’t really know where to start.” That’s definitely no lie.

“I’ll pour us some coffee.” He leans forward with a grunt.

“No, Dad, don’t get up. I can do it.” I stand up and walk to the sideboard to turn on the single-cup machine.

He lets out a small sigh through his nose. “I know I’m no spring chicken anymore, but—”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

Dad is proud and I don’t want to make him feel helpless, but I know damn well how much pain and fatigue he’s dealing with. And to be honest, I’m desperate to get off my ass and do something. Anything at all. I just need action.

So I busy myself with the coffee. Hazelnut for me, Colombian dark roast for Dad. Sweetener but no cream for me, cream but no sweetener for Dad. The ritual itself is almost as soothing as the rich scents that steam from our mugs.

I hoped that talking would come easier like this, with my hands occupied and my back turned so I don’t have to worry what crosses my face—or what might cross Dad’s. But the words that leap from my mouth take us both by surprise.

“Why did Bill Tate do this to us?”

Dad sighs again. This one is loud, heavy, rising from deep within his chest.

My mouth snaps open to apologize. But then I close it again. Because you know what? Even if I never intended to demand answers—fuck it, I really do want some. In fact, I have a right to them. I’m the one who was forced to choose between the frying pan and the fire, after all.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Dad says. “We never imagined it would turn out this way. We wrote those clauses together, into both our wills, because we wanted to keep T&C in the family, and we knew you kids were meant to be together.”

I nod a little impatiently as I hand him his coffee mug and sit down with mine. I already know most of this part of the story. A joint venture, in more than one sense of the word.

He takes a sip. “Still, we tried to make sure that you had other options. If you and Justin didn’t want to marry by the time we retired—a day we thought was far in the future—then control would default to the board. And even so, you wouldn’t lose the company. You would have been granted board seats and paid highly from T&C’s profits. So we didn’t make this decision lightly. But we never anticipated . . .”

“That there would be no profits,” I say softly. And maybe no company at all.

“Right. Because everything just happened all at once, with the worst possible timing. Bill’s early death. My cancer . . . and how fast it advanced. T&C lagging behind its competition, falling into the red. The board’s crisis of faith.” Another deep sigh. “We always thought you kids would have so many more years to come around to the idea.”

I know how hard Dad has tried to save this company on his own. He’s worked until his body physically won’t let him anymore. By the time he admitted defeat, the problem had reached do-or-die proportions. I’m not angry with him for that, because I know I wouldn’t have done any different. We’re cut from the same proud, stubborn cloth.

Dad puts down his barely touched coffee with a soft clunk. “I’m not going to be around forever, sweetie.”

I look up, startled at the topic change. He suddenly looks so haggard, it breaks my heart.

“I . . . I know that, Dad, but—”

“You marrying Justin isn’t just for the company’s sake. Who cares about a company if my little girl is unhappy? I trust Justin to take care of you.”

“I don’t need taking care of,” I say automatically.

“Everyone needs someone around. I’m not talking about money or power . . . I’m talking about love. A listening ear, a shoulder to cry on. A partner who shares life’s burdens. If I know you have that, sweetie, then I can rest a lot easier.”

I swallow a lump in my throat, washing it down with hot coffee. I don’t want to think about Dad resting.

“Despite everything, I still believe that you and Justin belong together,” Dad continues. “You were made for each other. And you’ll need each other’s strength for what lies ahead. Bill Tate’s will has just given things a little push in the right direction.”

I look down into my mug, the dark liquid glinting under the fluorescent lights. “This still just feels so . . . unreal. I have no idea what to expect. What’s it like to be married?”

I’m not even sure what kind of answer I want to hear. What cute anecdote or pearl of wisdom could possibly reassure me. Everything will be okay. Marriage won’t swallow up your whole life. You can still be yourself—a businesswoman first and a wife second.

“Well, in my experience, it was wonderful.” Dad smiles fondly. “Your mom was the greatest thing that ever happened to me. My rock, my sunshine, my best friend. We weren’t two halves of a whole, we were each our own person, and that’s what made us so amazing when we joined together.” He shakes his head. “I’m no poet, so all I can say is . . . it was magic.”

Magic, huh? I’ll have to take his word for it. My only long-term boyfriend turned out to be a manipulative narcissist, and I’ve never gotten close enough to any other man for the kind of deep bond that my father is trying to describe.

Dad leans forward in the chair, elbows on his knees and fingers steepled. “I know the circumstances are far from ideal, sweetie. But try to at least give Justin a shot. I’d never put you in a situation I didn’t think you could handle. You’re my baby girl . . . I just want to see you with a good man. And that man is Justin.”

I don’t quite share Dad’s glowing opinion of Justin. Not yet—although hopefully that will change by the end of this month. But I remember how fiercely he cares about Rosita and her family’s welfare. There’s no mistaking the strength of his conviction.

If nothing else, I know I can count on Justin to step up to the plate and fight for T&C. I can trust him to work just as hard as I will. Which is good, because we’ll be spending the next three months in Overtime Hell together.

At least I’ll have some eye candy to ogle during all those late nights at the office. But now that I know about that telephone pole between his legs, I don’t know how I’ll ever look at him the same way.

Heaven help me.

Chapter Seven

Justin

You know how men are supposed to be more direct and forceful, while women are gentler and more attuned to emotions? That’s horseshit. As business partners, Selena and I blur gender stereotypes. I’m the “face,” the charismatic people-pleaser, while she’s the get-shit-done powerhouse. Playing to our strengths lets us divide and conquer.

Of course, it doesn’t hurt that men—especially stodgy, rich old farts—tend to listen better to other men. I can close deals over a round of golf, woo male and female clients alike, and generally sweet-talk my way through any situation. Which is exactly what I’ve spent this last week doing.

Today, though, I’m back in the office. And right now, I’m grinding my teeth at the sight of Harrison Ridgefield from the accounting department leering at Selena’s cleavage.

“Something I can help you with there, buddy?” I snap as I step into Selena’s office and stop right beside him.

His head jerks up and he smiles sheepishly, as if he knows he’s been caught. “Oh. Hey, Justin. Didn’t see you there,” he says, his voice unsteady.

“That’s because you were busy staring at my girlfriend’s . . . spreadsheets.”

Selena and I haven’t announced our courtship yet, but rumor knows no bounds. The unofficial news has spread like fucking wildfire through our whole building.

Harrison swallows hard and takes a step back. “Congrats on all that, by the way.”

My blank stare says I’m on to you, prick. I even puff out my chest a little for good measure. Harrison isn’t a bad-looking guy. I hear the office gossip; I know he’s the wet dream of at least a few of the ladies here. But I’ve got about two inches on his six-foot frame, and more muscle too.

“Well, it looks like you’ve got it covered here, Selena.” The douche bag treats her to a fond smile and steps away from her desk.

“Thanks, Harrison,” Selena says as she watches him leave.

“What are you doing?” I glare down at Selena’s monitor. There are pages and pages of data on her screen. I have no idea what it is—but I do know she looks stressed, and I want to fix it.

“Just trying to reconcile the invoices we sent clients last year with the actual dollars received.” She taps a four-inch-thick stack of printouts on her desk. “Something feels off about it.”

“Selena . . .” I exhale slowly.

Her eyes jerk up to mine. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be spending your time on menial shit like this. We have too much strategizing and brand-building to do to keep your head buried in busywork.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Cranky-Pants, but ‘burying my head’ might end up saving us a fuck-ton of money.” Her blue eyes burn brightly, and I know I’m in for a fight if I push too hard.

Well, too bad. I’ll grab the tiger by the tail if that’s what it takes to stop her.

“What I’m trying to say is that your talents are wasted on this. Your time is valuable. This is what I mean when I say you work too hard. Tasks like these need to be delegated. You don’t have to do everything yourself.”

“Harrison was helping me—”

I hold up one hand. “Harrison was enjoying the peep show. Nothing more.” I make a point of letting my gaze drop slowly from hers down to the front of her blouse. The sight of the top of her firm, round breasts cradled in a delicate nude-colored bra makes my mouth water. I ignore the tingle at the base of my spine and the blood surging toward my groin, and take a deep breath.

Selena’s gaze jerks from mine down to her cleavage, and she hoists her shirt up higher. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, he was not.”

She is seriously delusional. Harrison has had a wicked crush on her for three years. And he’s an underperforming ass, if you ask me.

“God, you’re grumpy today. Why don’t you go get one of those blow jobs you like from Jenni in HR?”

“Huh. I’m surprised you know about that.” I enjoyed a handful of oral encounters from a nice admin assistant earlier this year, but all that is over.

“I know everything that goes on around here.” She smirks.

Hell. “First of all, Jenni no longer works here.”

“Oh, darn.” She snaps her fingers in mock outrage.

“Secondly . . .” I lean my hip against her desk. “Even if she did, I’d have zero interest in seeing her lips around my cock right now.”