Chapter Three
Beckett wasn’t sure how to react. Had she looked him up because she wanted to know about him…or because she’d seen the opportunity for her business? He couldn’t really be annoyed if that was the case. After all, he knew what it took to start a business from scratch. McKenna was certainly ballsy, something that would serve her well. But there was a tiny, egotistical part of him that hoped she’d been trying to find out more about him.
Why? So you can be further tempted by something that’s off-limits? You know this can’t go anywhere.
“It sounds a lot creepier than it really is.” A nervous smile flittered across her pink lips. “I promise.”
Her lipstick was the exact same bubblegum shade as her sneakers and the design on her top. So perfectly matched, he would have bet money that they had the same RGB code. He wondered briefly if the inside of her apartment was similarly vibrant, in contrast to the stark minimalist white he’d picked for his place.
“Are you annoyed?” She cocked her head, her blue eyes inspecting him. “I can’t tell. You don’t say much. Well, you said a little yesterday, of course. But I mean usually. When I say hi you tend to just…grunt.”
“No I don’t.”
Her button nose wrinkled. “So you can’t say hello back but you can argue with me about the sound you make?”
“Yes.”
Her nostrils flared and damn if it wasn’t the most adorable thing ever. “Why don’t you ever say hello to me?”
All his life people had asked him why he was so quiet. Some assumed he was hiding a secret, other guessed it was a negotiation tactic. An old friend had once teased him that it was all a ruse to make him appear mysterious. But the truth was, he only said what was necessary. What was the point of contributing to all the useless, brainless chatter that filled people’s heads? The world had gotten so…noisy.
He leaned back in his chair. “Are you here to ask for my help or to question my communication abilities?”
“Can’t I do both?” Her lips tugged up into a smile. It was like being blinded by the midday sun.
Helping McKenna wasn’t a smart idea. He could already see how it would go—McKenna and Kayla would become instant friends, and then she’d be further inserted into his life via family events. Not to mention the wedding itself. Kayla would be certain that McKenna would make a better girlfriend than Sherri, and would do her best to set him up. It’d happened before.
“I wish I could help you, but I can’t. My sister’s wedding is her business and I don’t want to get involved.” That wasn’t a lie.
“All you have to do is pass on my business card,” she said, her eyes pleading with him. They were framed by impossibly long eyelashes that made her look Bambi-like. “Tell her I’m your super nice lady friend from down the hall and that I’m very good at my job.”
“You’re not my lady friend.” Beckett recoiled at the uneven thump in his chest. “I barely know you. How can I recommend you?”
He’d been asked to put his name to other people’s talents in the past. But he had a strict rule when it came to business—never say anything you can’t stake your reputation on.
“How can you say you don’t know me? You’ve been grunting at my hellos for over a year now.” Her expression told him that she would not be deterred. “Or get your ex to vouch for me, then. She’s visited me a few times at the makeup counter.”
“Pushy, aren’t you?”
“It’s one of my better qualities.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “My big brother told me once that I was scrappy, but I think I prefer pushy.”
“I don’t doubt your abilities.” He raked a hand through his hair, feeling like a bastard. But she’d wedged herself into his brain. He couldn’t have it. “Kayla is adamant about doing the wedding her way. She wants to be free to make her own decisions.”
“I’m asking for an introduction, that’s all. Please.” She knotted her hands in her lap and leaned forward. “If there’s anything I can do to even the score, I’ll do it.”
This was not helping the situation. The way she looked at him—that beautiful face beaming with sincerity—while she promised to even the score, was making him think a whole lot of things he shouldn’t. Dirty things. The kind of things that made him hot and horny and more than a little bit uncomfortable.
She threw her hands up in the air. “Hell, if I can help you get your girlfriend back I’ll even do that.”
“You can’t do that.” His brain tried to process the offer. “Can you?”
“Sure. I’m an expert matchmaker.” Something strange flickered in the depths of her eyes. “That is, assuming you want her back.”
“I do.” The words came immediately, though it left him with a hardness in his chest. A tension that hadn’t been there a moment ago.
Of course he wanted Sherri back. Isn’t that exactly what he’d been trying to do ever since she stormed out of his apartment?
“How about we trade? You give me a recommendation, and I’ll do my best to help you win back the girl of your dreams.” She picked at a hole in her jeans where part of her thigh was exposed. “I can’t guarantee anything, but then neither can you.”
He thought about it. Having a woman’s input might help him fix this situation. But, more importantly, it might help him fix the situation quickly. He was confident that things would work themselves out as they always did, but now he was under a deadline. One month until the money ran out.
But that would mean spending more time with McKenna…
However, if she was supposed to be the one helping him get Sherri back then that should throttle the possibility of anything happening between them. She would know he wanted another woman, and he would be able to keep his eye on what mattered.
“Matchmaking isn’t the same as fixing a relationship,” he said eventually.
McKenna had managed to keep quiet while he’d been processing this information, but her fidgeting had steadily increased until she was tapping her nails against the edge of his couch. “Sure it is. It’s all about making two people see that they’re perfect for one another.”
“And how do you do that?”
She sat up straighter, drawing her shoulders back as she smiled at him with confidence. “I learn what makes them tick up there.” She nodded to his head. “In there”—her gaze dropped to his chest—“and down there.” Her eyes lingered for a second in his lap, before her cheeks flushed. It was so wrong for his pulse to spike and all the blood in his body to change direction and head south, while he was planning to get his ex back. So fucking wrong.
She’s an attractive woman and you’re a red-blooded man, it’s natural. But the difference between you and an animal is that you can hide those feelings away and not do anything about it. You can control it.
It was true. Feelings meant nothing if you didn’t act on them. And if there was one thing Beckett had been doing his whole life, it was thinking with his head, rather than his heart.
“Okay,” he said, standing and extending his hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
…
Later that night, McKenna sat on her couch leafing through takeaway menus, having no idea what she felt like. Thai food? The delivery guy had made a crack about how she was their most loyal customer, so maybe it was time to lay off the pad thai and satay sticks. Pizza? Too greasy. Indian food? Eh, she didn’t feel like anything spicy.
A knock at the door made her spring off the couch. For some reason her mind immediately drifted to Beckett, which was stupid. They’d agreed to check in after he’d spoken to his sister about her wedding. So why would he be here?
No real reason, just the stupid fantasies that you’ve been making up in your head.
“Remember how you agreed to help him get his fiancée back?” she grumbled to herself as she wrapped her hand around the doorknob.
That meant no more dirty thoughts. And no more fantasies about him turning up here, unannounced.
McKenna pulled the door open to find her best friend Emery standing there. She raised a brow and pushed her chunky black glasses farther up her nose. “Do you usually answer the door sans pants?”
McKenna looked down at her bare legs, extending out from the bottom of her boy short undies. “Count yourself lucky I wore a T-shirt.”
Truth was, pants had been the last thing on her mind after her visit to Beckett. Which was a problem.
“What happened?” Emery’s gaze slipped over the mess in McKenna’s apartment as she walked in, letting the door swing shut behind her.
“Oh yeah, that.”
The night McKenna had decided to get drunk and order a box of sex toys—the night that had set all the wheels in motion for Operation Self-Love—had started with her getting dumped. Publicly.
Her “date night” outfit of a glittery miniskirt, slinky blue tank top, and chunky cork wedges still lay in a heap on the floor, from when she’d stormed into her apartment, stomping around like a baby elephant throwing a tantrum.
Emery wrinkled her nose. “I would ask if you’ve got someone hidden away, but I doubt you’d invite me in if that was the case.”
McKenna sighed. “Gage dumped me. And I’ve been wallowing, instead of cleaning my apartment.”
“I told you not to trust a guy who sounds like he was named after a Bold and the Beautiful character.” Emery sighed and patted her arm. “Can I just say ‘insert comforting statement here’ and be done with it?”
“You’re all heart, Em.” McKenna rolled her eyes and dropped the menus onto her coffee table with a slap.
“What did he say?”
“That he got a promotion at work and now he needs to start taking his life seriously. That I’m a lot of ‘fun,’ but he wants to stop screwing around.” She made a gagging noise in the back of her throat. “Apparently, girls who like glitter aren’t serious. He needs someone who ‘gives back’ to the community and does work that makes society a better place.”
That was the bit that stung most. Because her parents had said things with a similar sentiment over the years. Why didn’t she want to get a “real” job and help people like her doctor brothers?
Your work makes a difference, too. There’s nothing wrong with helping women find confidence through makeup.
She knew that, of course. Nothing would sway her from the belief that makeup was a form of creative expression. The moment she held a mirror up to her client’s face and saw their joy, it was the most empowering feeling in the world.
“Did you tell him to shove his judgmental comments where the sun doesn’t shine?”
“Better. I told him that I’m glad we were breaking up because I was starting to get so used to faking orgasms that I was worried I’d forget what the real thing felt like.”
“You didn’t.” Emery threw her head back and laughed. “I wish I was there.”
“The response was underwhelming. He didn’t care.” McKenna sighed. “So you’ll be happy to know I’m officially out of the dating game now. My crazy cat lady starter kit is on the way and I’ve bought enough sex toys to make a cam girl jealous.”
Emery dropped down onto the couch. “Good for you. It’s about time you came to the dark side.”
“Aren’t you going to give me any sympathy at all?” McKenna rolled her eyes. Sometimes Emery took her “man repeller” status a little too seriously.
“Look.” Emery patted the empty spot next to her on the couch. “You know I’m not a touchy-feely kinda gal. How about I take you out and ply you with drinks, instead?”
“I don’t want to go out,” she grumbled as she dropped down next to her friend. “I want to stay home and consume my body weight in ice cream like you’re supposed to during a breakup.”
The funny thing was, however, she didn’t actually feel that bad. Maybe knowing that she had a plan in place was enough to keep her spirits buoyed. This time she was going to take charge of her life and find the success she craved, rather than pinning all her hopes on some man.
Probably a good idea since your ability to choose the right men leaves a lot to be desired.
“Don’t look at it as a breakup, Mac. He’s unlocked your shackles.” Emery slid a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Trust me, this is a good thing. You weren’t happy with him, anyway.”
“I know.” She nodded. “But I didn’t want to be the dumpee for once.”
“Okay, that’s it.” Emery pushed up and dragged McKenna with her. “This pity party is over right now. We’re going out.”
“No,” McKenna whined. “I’m all prepared to wallow. Can’t we just order in and watch Game of Thrones?”
Emery raised a brow. “That’s really what you want?”
“It is. I’ll even put pants on.”
“Fine. You go get changed, I’ll order.” She leafed through the menus. “I vote Chinese food.”
“Done.” McKenna threw her arms around Emery and planted a kiss on her cheek.
She collected her clothing from the floor and headed into her bedroom. Her purse was still sitting where she’d thrown it on the bed earlier that day, the contents spilling out—her phone, keys, compact mirror, lipstick, lip gloss, and a tampon. The little blue light on her phone flashed, alerting her to a new text message.
Gage wanting to know if she was okay. Gage, again, hoping that he hadn’t broken her heart too badly. Douche.
“Fuck you, Gage,” she muttered at the phone, resisting the urge to hurl the device out of her window.
Emery was right, she hadn’t been happy with him. He was far too uptight for her, far too worried about what other people thought. But he was the first guy who’d made a good impression on her impossible-to-please parents. And for once, she hadn’t been made to feel like a bloody disappointment. Dr. Amy Prescott and Bert Prescott of Peterson, Prescott & Partners were not the type of parents to give her a pat on the head for the sake of it.
Stupid. You should have listened to your gut.
Instead of worrying about the sad state of her romantic opportunities, she was going to throw everything into advancing her career. By the end of the year she would be a freelance makeup artist, come hell or high water. All she needed was the right opportunity, and Beckett’s sister’s society wedding was it. Then she could leave her department store job behind and prove to herself that she did have the stuff to make it on her own.
She reached for a pair of leggings and tugged them up over her legs. Then she got to work on removing the pins from the elaborate updo holding her brown and purple hair hostage. The bobby pins hit her vanity with metallic clinks as she yanked them out one by one.
The people in her life might not understand her need to be bold and creative, but she was done trying to squish herself into some damn box. She was done worrying what other thought of her style and career choices.
Screw the naysayers, McKenna Prescott was going to be even brighter and more sparkly than ever.
“How’s work?” Emery asked, when McKenna wandered back into the living room. “Have they promoted you to counter manager yet?”
“No.” McKenna slumped back in her seat. “But I want out of retail, anyway. The sales aspect is exhausting and it’s all KPIs and units per sale and daily targets and…ugh. I had a meeting with the area manager last week and she gave me hell over the fact that my average sale is seventy-six dollars instead of seventy-nine. Apparently, I’m pulling down the whole counter with numbers like that. I mean, seriously?”
“But you’re great at sales.” Emery cocked her head. “The girls I sent in to see you said they were only looking for a lipstick and they both ended buying a bunch of things.”
“I spend too long with the customers, according to them. She said I talk to them too much and I should be cashing them out quicker so I can move on to the next customer.” She huffed. “Never mind the fact that I have a bunch of customers who will only come to me because they know I don’t treat them like numbers and just push whatever the company wants. They want us to act like call center staff.”
“That’s bullshit.” Emery rolled her eyes.
“It is. I’m over it.” She sighed. “I want to focus on the makeup application bit, that’s what really inspires me. Not this sales crap.”
“So you’re really going to make the leap to freelancing?”
“Yeah, I am. But I’m not keen to make a leap into not being able to pay my rent. Freelance is competitive and we’re not supposed to take appointments away from the counter, since that’s how they guarantee people buy more products.”
“Ah, so they won’t let you hand out business cards, then?”
“No. I slip a few out here and there, but if the boss catches me I’ll have my head on the chopping block. They caught another girl and cut her hours down until she left.” She sighed. “I suspect it’s coming more from the department store than CAM-Ready, because they figure once people get through the front door then they’re likely to spend in other departments, too. Which means it’s tough to build up a business outside work. But I’ve got something on the hook.”
She thought about telling Emery the whole story with the parcel delivery, but decided against it. No way in hell would Emery ever let her live it down.
Besides, she’d learned a long time ago not to tell people about her plans until she had a win to share. Too many times she’d gotten excited and blurted out an opportunity, only to have it crumble around her. Then she’d be putting herself in the firing line, especially where her parents were concerned.
See, McKenna, you should have stayed in university and finished your law degree like we told you. Then you wouldn’t be struggling to get ahead.
Nope. Not going down that path. Emery wasn’t as bad as her parents, but she certainly told it how it was and sometimes McKenna needed a little more handholding than that.
A big part of Operation Self-Love was putting herself first. And that meant keeping her big mouth shut until she had something concrete to share.