Jacob wasn’t home when I got back from Jay’s pub, but that was okay. For once, I wanted to keep this information about Alex to myself and mull it over before spilling it to my best friend.

I learned a lot about Alex tonight. He is even more arrogant than I thought, and strangely, it doesn’t bother me like it should. He knows how to kiss like nobody’s business, nobody’s. He proved to be overprotective or very attentive as he put it when he dropped everything to come and meet with me. He’s somewhat guarded—I could feel it when there was a pause in the conversation. It was like he was on the verge of saying more, but at the last second, he thought better of it.

The most important thing I learned tonight is that Alex is the epitome of all the things I have never wanted in a man. Yet, I am more attracted to him now than ever. What is that all about?

Okay, maybe I do need Jacob. Where is he anyway? I went straight to my room to change when I got home and didn’t stop in the kitchen to see if he’d left a note. I make my way through the spacious loft apartment flipping on lights as I go. Everything is clean and tidy, no thanks to me. Jacob is the neat freak of this little family. He has more time to put the sugar bowl back in the cupboard and line up boots next to the front door on the shoe mat than I do.

I’m like a tornado when I come home dumping coats and shoes and bags, and barreling toward the bathroom to pee or my bedroom to change. It’s like tunnel vision. I know where I’m going and how to get there, but I leave a mess in my quake. But I’m working on it, and for that, Jacob is grateful.

There’s no note on the large kitchen island. I glance into the living room, and there’s nothing on the coffee table either. Maybe he text me, and I didn’t notice? I slide my phone from my pants pocket and look at the screen. Yep, there it is. I knew he wouldn’t let me worry.

Jacob – Went out for drinks with Gabe at Candies. Come join us when you get off work.

Oh no. I am not being lured out on the town tonight. I’m still recovering from earlier this week, and I have to go out again tomorrow night. I shoot him a text thanking him for the invitation and using a long, busy day and tired feet as an excuse to stay home.

I grab a glass of wine and wander into the office that Jacob and I share. I plunk down in the plush desk chair and prop my feet up on the corner of the desk. Who would have thought a poor girl from one of California’s worst towns would end up living this life? I own my own business that is flourishing and on the verge of becoming a chain. I have a fat savings account, a gorgeous loft in one of the best neighborhoods in Seattle, and I live with the most loyal best friend a person could have.

This is why I worked so hard to claw my way out of poverty. The only thing that could make it better would be a dog, but since I’m currently living in a no-pet loft, that piece of the puzzle is going to have to wait.

I reach out and tap the spacebar on the computer. It springs to life lighting up the area around me, and I hesitate with my hand over the mouse. Do I want to do more investigating or do I want to let things progress organically only knowing what I know now?

He’s been straightforward with me. I don’t feel like he’s keeping secrets. I asked about his ex, and he told me straight up what was going on. I think I’ll go with organic. Who knows, tomorrow night might be our first and last date all rolled into one. We probably don’t have much in common besides physical attraction anyway. No sense in getting all worked up about things in his past that aren’t going to make a difference.

I take a drink of my wine and lean my head back against the chair. I should make something to eat or read a book or go for a run. Instead, I fall asleep and wake up when one of my legs falls off the desk catapulting me forward.

I yell and raise my glass high in the air instinctively to keep from spilling. My legs are prickly and tingling from my knees to my toes as the blood rushes back. It hurts too much to stand up and dance it away, so I place my mostly empty glass on the desk and rub my legs until the pain subsides.

“Hey, you okay?” Jacob says his voice heavy with sleep when he appears at the arch that separates the living room from the office. He’s only wearing a pair of gray-patterned sleeping pants that hang low on his hips. Any other woman would be salivating at the sight of him with his tousled hair and five o’clock shadow, but not me. Jacob’s sexy, but he’s as close to a brother as a man can be.

“Yeah, I must have nodded off, and my legs went to sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you, what time is it?”

“Five-thirty.”

“What? No way. I’ve been sleeping here all night. When did you come home?”

“Around two. I didn’t see you there, or I would have put you to bed. Sorry, honey.”

“Nothing to be sorry for. I must have been more tired than I thought.”

“I’m headed back to bed then if you’re okay. Gabe spent the night just so you know there’s another man in the apartment. I raise my eyebrows, and he flips his hand in the air dismissing any provocative thoughts I may be having.

“It’s not like that. We both had too much to drink and took an Uber back here. He’s a good boy, remember?”

“Yes, I do, but I also know you can be powerfully persuasive. There’s no pillow fortress wall that you can’t tear down with a sexy look.”

He looks thoughtful. “True, but I’m trying to turn over a new leaf, you know? Start out the new year as a better man.”

“Okay, as long as you don’t turn over into Gabe instead,” I say with a wink.

“Stop it. You’re supposed to encourage me to be good and not doubt that I can be.”

“Sorry, I’ll behave. Come on, let’s go to bed. I have to get up early and spend the day at the spa.”

“That’s today? What time are we leaving?”

“We?”

“Yes silly. I’m not letting you go to some strange spa alone. What if it’s a trap or a set-up, and he’s going to get you all naked and step into the massage room instead of the masseuse?” He’s playing with me. There’s nothing he’d like better than knowing Alex swapped places with the masseuse. He just can’t stand the thought of missing a day of luxury with me since I never indulge in such things.

“Well, when you put it like that, then yes, I suppose I will need a bodyguard. We need to be there at eight, so hurry up and get your sleep on, or your Gabe on, or whatever. You only have a couple of hours left.”

“I will be getting my sleep on for your information. Meet me in the kitchen at seven for coffee before we leave.”

I stand up and carry my wine glass to the kitchen sink where I leave it unwashed. Jacob shakes his head. “What? I’ll wash it with my coffee cup later.”

“When have you ever washed a coffee cup, honey?”

He has a point. I have a bad habit of leaving things in or near the sink for him to wash. “You’re right.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll get it. Good night, love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Later that morning, Jacob and I are greeted in the front of our building by a limo that takes us to the Stillwater Spa where we are buffed and polished and rubbed until I feel like a shiny new penny.

When we step from the tropical oasis-like environment of the Stillwater Spa into the misty, chilled Seattle air, it brings my eight out of ten mood down to a five.

“Ew, my hair is going to frizz before the stylist can work their magic,” I complain to Jacob. His face falls when he sees the light mist falling on my hair.

“Not if we can help it. Look, it’s the limo. Hurry up and get in.” He all but shoves me into the back of the car. I ask the driver if he could please drop us off at my hair appointment.

“I have orders to take you wherever you need to go all day today, Ms. Johnson.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I look at Jacob, and he smiles an, I told you so kind of smile. “What?”

He shrugs. “Look at you all living in the lap of luxury and loving it. I knew you weren’t one hundred percent opposed to the good life.”

“I never said I was. That’s what I’ve been trying to achieve since I was a kid.” I lower my voice and cup my hand to the side of my mouth, so only Jacob can hear me. “It’s the rich men who think they can buy me that I’m opposed to.”

“I don’t see you being opposed to Alex Wolfe.”

I frown and look out my window. He’s right. I don’t know why Alex doesn’t rub me the wrong way like all the other well-to-do men who have tried to scoop me up and make me their trophy wife, or better yet, their little pet-shop-owning pet.

I’m nobody’s trophy or pet. I’m an independent woman who made it with no help from a man.

“Hey, it’s okay to like him, honey. Stop putting that label on him. You used to get flaming mad when you’d go to the bank for a loan, and the banker would take one look at your address and turn you away, remember?”

“Yeah.”

“It felt like shit to be judged for where you lived and how much money you had.”

“So I’m reverse discriminating?” I ask surprised I haven’t thought of it this way before.

“Yes, exactly.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“You know, you can still be a strong, independent woman with a strong independent man at your side. You don’t have to keep hooking up with losers. I know you use those guys like a safety net, but if there were ever a man worth ditching the net for, it’s Alex Wolfe. Honey, take a risk, give him a chance.”

I turn in the seat pulling my knee up to look at him straight on. “Jacob, how did you get so smart?”

He flips his wrist. “Lady, I’ve always been smart about men and relationships. It’s just that you’ve never wanted either, and I respected that, but now that you’re showing interest in someone worth your time, I plan on helping you all I can.”

I lean forward and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you. What would I do without you?”

“You’d be at home with hairy legs and chipped fingernails with no New Year’s Eve plans, that’s where.”

I nod my head. “You’re right and painfully accurate,” I say with a scowl.

“I’ve known you all your life, of course, I’m right. You’d have a bottle of rosé in the fridge, your flannel pajama bottoms and a tank top on, a silly noise maker to blow at midnight on the coffee table, as if you were going to make it to midnight, and a bag of double chocolate Milanos.”

I blow out a disgusted sigh and roll my eyes. “Stop, that sounds pathetic.”

“But accurate.”

“Not this year. I’ll be rubbing shoulders with entitled rich bitches and billionaires who I have nothing in common with. Now that I think about it, I’d rather be on the couch with my wine and cookies.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Stop thinking like old Olivia. You are now the ultra-successful entrepreneur, supermodel beautiful, billionaire-dating Olivia.”

I cock my head to the side and raise my eyebrows. “That’s a little much, don’t you think? And what’s wrong with the Olivia I was already?”

He cups my cheek with his hand. “Nothing at all, honey. I just want to see you happy in all areas of your life instead of just professionally.”

I cover his hand with mine and nod. I get it, I do. He’s not insulting me, he’s building me up. I slide closer to him and snuggle under his arm, and we ride the rest of the way to the hair salon in silence.

After an hour in the salon and a luxurious lunch at a French café with Jacob, I am more relaxed than I have been in years. So relaxed that I almost forgot what all the preparations of the day were for.

The limo drops us off in front of our building at six. Jacob tugs me inside the building and presses the up button on the elevator. “Are you getting excited?”

I glance at him wearily. “Honest? I’m exhausted. I’m such a pile of mush, I could go straight to bed. Getting beautiful is entirely too much work.”

He laughs and guides me into the elevator when the doors slide open. “I hear you. I have a date tonight, and if it weren’t New Year’s Eve, I’d cancel.”

I sigh and lean my butt against the back wall of the elevator. “When we get upstairs, we have to blast some music and drink a Red Bull or something. I can’t be all mellow and chill, or I’ll twist my ankle in my heels.”

“You got it. How about some queen B to get your blood going?”

“Jumpin, Jumpin?” I ask knowing he will say yes. Beyoncé and Destiny’s Child are his favorites, and the more energetic the song, the better, is his motto.

“Yes!” The doors slide open, and we turn left toward our loft. When we are inside, he makes a beeline to the Bose speaker and sets his phone to his pre-party playlist, which includes all of his favorite Beyoncé songs. As soon as the music starts, his hips start to sway, and his arms go up in the air.

“Now this is what I needed,” I say smiling and pushing the coffee table out of the way to join him. We let go and do our best version of club dancing, grinding and booty popping until I’m starting to sweat.

Laughing, I twirl toward the hall when the next song comes on. “I can’t get all sweaty. He’s going to be here soon. Going to put my dress on. I’ll be back.”

He cranks up the music and follows me. “You don’t think I’m letting you do your makeup by yourself, do you?”

I touch my cheek remembering that I’m still bare-faced. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.”

He shakes his head making a tsk-tsk sound. “Honey, you’d be a hot mess without your boy. Come on, let’s make you so irresistible, he will have a semi going on all night.”

In my room, I turn around and put my hand on my hip striking an insulted pose. “A semi, is that all?”

He laughs. “Okay, okay, you’ll be so damn hot, the poor guy will be ringing in the new year with a raging boner. Is that better?”

I straighten up and drop my hand, smiling. “Yes, much.”

When he’s done working his makeup magic, he leaves me to dress. Alex had the most gorgeous floor-length crimson red gown sent to me via courier. The dress has a form-fitting bodice with a plunging neckline that matches the V in the back. The skirt is long, filmy chiffon with a fine sparkle sewn into the fabric. It has a slit all the way to the waist that is only seen when I take a step because of all the layers of material. I know because I tried it on quickly this morning when it arrived.

And to top it all off, he sent me shoes, too. I’ve never had a man buy me clothes or shoes before, and I was amazed at how well both the dress and the shoes fit. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I buckle the tiny clasp on the silver Jimmy Choo’s and stare down at my perfect red toenails peeking out of the peephole in the shoes.

Okay, so, I can’t deny being pampered is kind of cool. I stand up and look at myself in the full-length mirror on the back of my bedroom door. I don’t recognize the bombshell standing there staring back. She’s poised and lovely and so… so well put together.

Gone are the yoga pants and hoodie. Gone is the scrunchy holding my hair in a ponytail. Gone is the plain, fresh face I usually wear and replacing all of that is a headline-worthy piece of arm candy for one of the country’s most eligible bachelors.

Now I’m nervous.