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I took an instinctive step toward Bash. I couldn’t possibly go with Constance. I was already tired of playing this character, and I hadn’t even encountered Dev or Justin Hardy yet. But how could I say no politely when she’d been so kind to me?
Fortunately, I had an assistant for this sort of thing. “I’m afraid Sterling and I are overdue at the stables,” Bash said briskly, taking my hand to pull me away. “Perhaps another time.”
“Bash.” She inclined her head regally and eyed our joined hands, confirming my suspicion that this was not your average billionaire-and-assistant behavior. “I’m spearheading an equine therapy endowment…” She lifted an eyebrow. “I assume I can count on your support? Yours and Mr. Chase’s?”
“Of course.” Bash’s words came out more like a sigh, like he was used to being hit up for donations in a casual conversation.
Honestly, rich people were worse than Bobby’s daughter hitting up all the people at the Tech Barn every time her Scout troop wanted to go on a field trip. I could only imagine how often people hit up an actual billionaire like Sterling Chase.
“Come along, Mr. Chase.” Bash marched resolutely down a dirt path toward the stables, his long strides eating up the dirt the only sign that he was annoyed by the encounter. With my hand in his, I had to trot to keep up, but it didn’t occur to me to pull away, either.
He didn’t say anything for a full minute, and neither did I.
Then, finally, “Are you alright?” he asked in a low voice.
“Y-yes.”No. “I’m really sorry about that. I hope you don’t feel obligated to donate any money to Ms. Baxter-Hicks’s endowment thingy,” I blurted.
I had no idea how much money Bash had, and it was none of my business. I figured it was more than me if his mom was vacationing someplace Constance Baxter-Hicks liked to go, but it couldn’t be very much if the man was working as a billionaire’s personal assistant. I really hoped he hadn’t agreed to make a donation just to get me out of an awkward situation.
Bash blew out a long breath. “Nothing you need to apologize for. I’m sure it’s an excellent cause, and I can afford it.” He shot me a glance. “Sterling Chase pays me well.”
I would hope so. “Doesn’t matter. It’s still wrong to, like,expectsomeone to contribute just because they have money.”
He didn’t reply. Instead, he gave me another of those side-eyed looks. His fingers clasped mine more firmly, and he slowed his pace so we were strolling, almost like… friends. Almost likelovers.
I could feel my pulse in my cheeks and knew my face had to be a concerning shade of puce now. Sadly, puce wasnotmy color.
My conscience screamed at me to come clean. To tell Bash I wasn’t Sterling and admit everything. To tell him exactly how naive and desperate and foolish I was. Bash seemed like a person who knew how to get things done, and he had a great sense of humor. If he could handle working for a man he’d never met until last night, whose mother scheduled his dates and who enjoyed coffee so full of carbohydrates it might evolve into a new life form, maybe he could handle the truth. He might even help me.
But on the other hand… what if he didn’t? What if he was so loyal to the real Sterling Chase that he got angry at my impersonation? What if I’d cleared this many hurdles, gotten so close to achieving my goal, and lost it because I trusted the wrong person?
I thought of my sister and touched the tattoo on my hip. I couldn’t take that chance.
More than that, the idea of confessing my lie to Bash made my whole body go cold with humiliation and fear. I liked him—liked the sound of Bash’s laughter and the way he looked at me so intensely that my heart plinked around like pennies in a jar. Liked the way he’d protected me when he’d thought I was someone who deserved protecting and the soda pop fizz that had sparkled through my veins when he’d leaned close to me in the car.
I didn’t want to lose any of that.
I didn’t have a lot of experience with guys. Back home in Indiana, I’d shared a few longing looks and a couple of handjobs behind the bleachers with guys who’d gone on to very loudly proclaim their straightness by dating women. After I’d come up with the idea for Project Daisy Chain, I’d been too consumed with my research to spend time figuring out how to meet other gay men in rural Indiana. And since I’d arrived in New York, I’d been way too busy delivering burritos and trying to finagle a meeting to bother with Hornet or Grindr or any of the other apps Joey kept encouraging me to try.
But I knew that I was close to having a very real crush on my very fake employee. And, maybe selfishly, I wanted to keep talking and laughing and holding this sexy man’s hand as long as I could…
Assuming, of course, that I didn’t vomit on his shoes in the next ten minutes from nerves.
“I was a bit worried back there, honestly,” Bash said after we’d walked in silence for another moment.
I looked up at him in surprise. “Worried… about me?”
“Obviously not,” he scoffed. “Worried about Bernard. I was afraid you were going to let loose with the martial arts.” He dropped my hand and mimed some sort of move that looked more like a person having convulsions than any of the karate moves I’d learned through after-school enrichment programs.
I snort-giggled inelegantly and pressed a hand to my mouth, startled by my own laughter… and by the fact that Icouldlaugh so soon after the almost-debacle.
Bash glanced at me, and his lips twitched, exactly as they had last night. Then he repeated the action, jumping into an exaggerated crane pose before doing a high kick… right there on the track to the stables, where anyone could see him.
“Sterling Chase does not tolerate your disrespect!” he fake-yelled.
I burst into laughter then, so hard I doubled over and my stomach cramped with it. It was sosilly—all of it, nearly every moment of the last two days—and my life had had a distinct lack of silliness for so long. The simple pleasure of laughing with him was like rain after a drought, soaking into all the dried-up parts of me, washing away the dust, and making me feel like something could grow there again.
Even if nothing else came of this weekend—of my whole damn trip to New York—I could almost,almostconvince myself that this wonderful moment with Bash was enough to justify the cost.
