So Maybe I Want A Bad Boy!

2 hours before the flight

Harley

The next morning came faster than I would have liked, and my mood soured from the get-go. By 5 PM, I had lemons—only lemons—to offer anyone who dared to test me, Clad included. Oh, you have no idea how many times I prayed for one of the following miracles: one, he'd change his mind out of sheer goodwill; two, he'd get up late and miss his flight; or three, he'd get on the wrong plane and end up in some remote desert with no cell service.

"You think if I changed the plane number, they'd notice?" I mused aloud.

"Or if you sent him a message saying the flight time changed?" Mandy suggested, ever the partner in crime.

She shook her head before I could even respond. "Oh no, that won't work. To make it believable, you'd probably have to hack the airline's system or something."

She looked serious. Too serious. I laughed, rolling onto my still-unmade bed—a clear sign to the universe that I was not up to today's task. If only it would take the hint.

"I'm serious. Just say the word, and we'll get to work. I know some tech guys." Mandy nodded as if she had a whole underground network at her disposal.

"They'll land you in jail faster than you can spell it," Rebecca finally chimed in. She'd been busy with work, half-listening to our nonsense.

"Hey! My guys are legit," Mandy huffed. "That, or we kidnap you and send your family a ransom demand?"

"Don't joke like that," I chuckled, though a dark thought crossed my mind. Would my family even pay? Mom, maybe. But my sister and dad? Not so much.

"Now that, I could actually do. Just let me get rid of this jerk's work first," Rebecca grumbled.

"Oh? Jerk? Should I also join the party and call Clad a jerk for no reason?" Mandy smirked.

To be honest, I was curious, too. Rebecca rarely got worked up over work.

Rebecca scoffed. "Do you know he sent back a contract because I missed a single clause? A single clause! And he's been rejecting every proposed revision since he got involved."

"Oh," I mumbled before I could stop myself, "then that means he's legit."

Rebecca shot me a glare so intense I instinctively covered my mouth.

"Well, I'm glad you still have time to swoon over your high school crush while I'm buried in work," she deadpanned.

"I'm sorry! It just slipped out! I guess my high school inner child isn't dead yet." I pouted dramatically, earning an eye roll from Rebecca. Success—I got a reaction.

"Forget that. What was his reason for rejecting it? Maybe I'm too hot for silly mistakes? Or did being featured on *New York's Most Wanted Men* magazine get to my head so now I can't work with people?" Mandy mused, staring at her phone.

"No, he just said he expects better from us," Rebecca muttered. "He even contacted me directly."

"Wait. He called?" I blinked. *He actually called one of my friends?*

"Don't get your hopes up. It was during work hours. Strictly business," Rebecca clarified. Then she paused. "Your comment about him being legit? Understatement. The man is the picture of perfectionism. His work shows it."

My jaw dropped. Rebecca never handed out compliments. Before I could point that out, our resident distraction expert, Mandy, spoke up.

"And what does he sound like over the phone?" she asked, her voice dropping to an unnecessarily sultry tone.

I frowned, then gulped. Not that I wanted to ask the same question or anything.

Rebecca slowly closed her laptop, turned fully toward the camera, and gave us a full view of her face mask, pink PJs, and matching headband. "He sounds hot. No offense, he's not my type, and no, I won't be stealing your man, but God. That voice? You'd be pinned in place, guaranteed. Like, he's a *phone god*."

She went on and on, practically drooling. And for a brief second—just a tiny moment—I felt a little pang. *Almost.*

"That sounds about right," Mandy said, scrolling through her phone. "Because, hell, the pictures on his page? He's hotter than the devil himself. Greek god reincarnate. Yummy muscles. Eyes that could trap you in eternity."

Then Mands turned her screen to us.

"Damn," Rebecca muttered, staring at her screen.

I, too, was frozen. *Wow.*

For some reason, I wanted to reach through the screen and touch the pictures. As if that would make them more real.

And then—

"Darn it!" I jumped off my bed, heart pounding.

"What? What is it?" My friends looked alarmed.

I pointed an accusing finger at Mandy. "You're a horrible friend. Right before my flight with him, you dump *this* on me? Darn you!"

Mandy blinked. Then a slow, wicked grin spread across her face. "No way, Harls. Don't tell me… these pictures turned you *on*?" She cackled. "Wow. You are a *goner*. Worse than I thought!"

I popped back onto the screen, flipped her off, and then rushed to the bathroom.

*What was going to become of me?*