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“I know you’re trying to talk yourself out of this, Dawson, but tell your morals to take a back seat. This is going to change your life. Aunt Molly’s life.”
Bastard knows exactly what he’s doing bringing up my mother. I shake my head as resolve sinks into my shoulders. Fair or not, opportunity rarely knocks twice. “You have my list of ingredients?”
“Already forwarded to my guys responsible for stocking the set.”
I stalk back toward the bedroom of the suite. Am I really about to do this?
“It’s go time, man. Just don’t forget about the little people when Gordon Ramsay is shining your shoes.”
I look down at my work boots and raise an eyebrow. “Hey, Mikey, before you go—”
“Michael. For the last time, man, no one has called me Mikey in years.”
“Yeah. Right. Sorry. Where should I go for a beer, Mikey?”
“Something laid back and causal, I’m assuming?”
“Yeah.” I cock an eyebrow at my reflection in the glass of the window. “None of that highbrow Hollywood shit you’re into.”
“Right. Peanut shells and bar fights. Noted. I’ll text you an address.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Oh, shit, hold up. Are you comin’ over for Christmas Eve? Margo insists you join us. Don’t make me tell her no.”
With a chuckle, I nod. “I’ll be there. Thanks for the invite.”
“We’re family. Plus, you don’t know Margo. If I made you come all the way out here during the holidays, then left you alone for Christmas? The woman would have my balls.”
I laugh. “Wouldn’t want that.”
“Nah, man, I like my balls.” Mikey chuckles, then says, “All right, gotta take this call. Have one of those shitty beers for me tonight, though, cool? Margo’s making me suffer through this pregnancy with her. Sober October became Sober November, then Sober Dec—”
“I get it, I get it.” I shake my head. “Sounds brutal, though. I’m never getting married.”
Mikey laughs. “We’ll see about that.”
He hangs up before I can argue, but I will not be getting married at the end of some reality dating show, even if it is on my cousin’s network. Even if said cousin did stick his neck on the line and fly me out here to participate. Even if participating is a really—really—big deal.
Because it is.
Participating has the potential to be life-changing.
So I will play the part.
I’ll make this woman—and the entire world—fall in love with me.
And I’ll win.
Then I’ll move right the hell on.
Chapter Three
Sophie
With only two days until Christmas and less than twenty-four hours until call time, it will take a behemoth of a Christmas miracle to get me out of this mess.
Or, in actuality, an assistant-turned-bestie. Running my hands over my face with a groan, I lean forward and press the intercom button on my desk phone. “Lees, I need you.”
