Faking Ms. Right: A Hot Romantic Comedy (Dirty Martini Running Club Book 1)

My ride pulled up to the curb on a side street downtown. Shepherd had said he’d meet me, so I’d taken an Uber rather than drive my own car.

I glanced out the window again. Dim light illuminated a sign that read The Office over a nondescript door. A couple came out, the guy’s arm slung over the girl’s shoulders.

“I guess this is it,” I said, but there wasn’t any confidence in my voice. This place looked like a dive bar. Why would Shepherd ask me to meet him here?

I got out and tucked my phone back in my little handbag. He hadn’t told me what we were doing, so I’d been at a loss as to what to wear. I’d opted for a teal shirt and black skirt with heels. My hair was down and I fluffed it a little before going inside.

Live rock music filled the bar. It was definitely a dive. Concrete walls were papered with newspaper clippings and band posters. Exposed bulbs in the ceiling cast a dim light and the floor was sticky.

My tummy did a little flip. I was so nervous to see Shepherd. That kiss. I’d surprised myself when I’d grabbed his shirt and kissed him. But nothing could have prepared me for the way he’d reacted. He’d kissed me back, leaving me breathless.

And now? I wasn’t sure what it meant. Everything at the hospital had been so intense. We were supposed to be pretending, but things were getting all too real. I assumed he’d asked me to meet him because he wanted to talk. But here? It was crowded and loud and not the kind of place I’d have thought Shepherd would go.

I didn’t see him anywhere—which was odd because he’d stick out like a sore thumb in this place. It was crowded—surprising on a Monday night—and it was clear people were here for the music. A few sat at the bar or the small tables, but the rest packed in around the stage.

It was an eclectic mix of people. Guys with tattoos and piercings. Girls with brightly dyed hair and badass red lipstick. Rockers with long hair and leather. A group of guys in button-down shirts, the sleeves cuffed. They looked more like Shepherd, but even they seemed too casual. There were older people, young couples, and everything in between. Although it was different than most of the places my girlfriends and I hung out, I liked it.

I texted Shepherd to let him know I was here, then wandered through the crowd toward the stage, keeping my eye out for him. The music was good. Really good. I found myself a little bit mesmerized by the melody. The singer had a great voice, but it was more than that. The band had an energy to them that drew me in. No wonder this place was so packed on a weeknight.

The bass drum had the band name on it—Incognito. The drummer beat the drums, sweat gleaming on his forehead. A guitar player sang backup into a mic next to the lead singer. The bass player stood toward the back of the stage where the light was dim. My eyes almost passed over him—where the heck was Shepherd?—when I did a double take.

Oh my god. The bass player looked exactly like Shepherd.

Holy shit. It was Shepherd.

I barely recognized him, with his disheveled hair and plain black t-shirt and jeans. He played a dark red bass guitar, his fingers busy strumming, his head bobbing slightly to the beat of the music. He seemed lost in the song, hardly paying attention to the crowd.

I’d seen Shepherd Calloway looking every bit the hot, wealthy businessman in a designer tux or a perfectly-tailored suit. I’d seen him at the end of a long day with the sleeves of his button-down shirt cuffed to his elbows. I’d even seen him in gym clothes after a workout and rubbing sleep from his eyes in the kitchen early in the morning while he waited for his coffee.

But this? I’d never dreamed I’d see Shepherd like this. Messy and a little sweaty, playing bass in a band at a dive bar?

He was so sexy I thought I might die.

I stared at him, open-mouthed, while he played. The bass line thumped, reverberating through my body. He didn’t look up. Just stood back there, almost in shadow, rocking out on his bass.

The crowd cheered while the band moved into a new song. I watched him, transfixed. Although he wasn’t working the audience the way the other guys were, he seemed at home up there. Relaxed in a way I’d never seen before.

The final song ended, and the singer thanked everyone for being here tonight. Shepherd finally looked up. He brushed the hair off his forehead, his eyes scanning the crowd.

Our gazes met and his lips turned up in a slow smile. He gave me a slight shrug, looking hesitant—almost shy. Before this moment, I never would have used that word to describe him. But there he was, with a boyish grin, glancing around at his surroundings as if to say, Yeah, I know this is weird.

He motioned for me to wait, then disappeared backstage with the rest of the band. Someone came on stage to introduce the next act—a woman named Dahlia Marlow. She was older—probably in her late fifties—with wildly curly hair and an acoustic guitar. The crowd gave her just much love as they had the band, and when she started singing, I could see why. Her voice was hypnotically beautiful.

It took a while before Shepherd came out, still dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. He ran a hand through his hair and gave me that little smile again.

“Hey.”

I blinked at him a few times, realizing too late that I was staring, open-mouthed. “Hey. Sorry. I’m just… I didn’t know you played. Or owned jeans.”

“Yeah, well, I’d get hot up there in a suit.”

You’re hot right now, Shepherd. Oh my god are you hot.

My eyes swept up and down, taking him in. Trying to reconcile this with the Shepherd Calloway I knew. Or thought I’d known. “How long have you been playing bass? Do you do this a lot? Is that your band? I have so many questions.”

He reached out and slid his hand to the small of my back, steering me toward the bar. “Yeah, I knew you would. Let’s get a drink.”

We got two whiskeys and found a small table near the outskirts of the bar. It was quieter here, a little corner shrouded in shadow.

“How is this possible?” I asked, gesturing at him, then behind me at the stage. “You’re in a band?”

“Yeah, it’s just a hobby for all of us. A side thing we like to do.”

“So you’re not about to give up the suits and corner office for a record deal,” I said and nudged his leg under the table.

“No, nothing like that. They even have another bassist who plays with them since I can’t get over here all that often.”

The significance of the bar’s name was finally dawning on me. “Is this where you go when you say you have to go to the office at night?”

He nodded, looking adorably guilty, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Yeah, sometimes. But, listen, no one knows about this. I mean that literally. No one.”

“Your dad doesn’t know?”

“No, he has no idea. Ethan doesn’t either, although he knows I learned to play.”

“Why haven’t you told them? Your dad would love to see you play. He’d lose his mind.”

Rubbing his chin, he looked away. “I don’t know. I’ve always kept this part of my life separate. It wasn’t something I wanted people to know about.”

My heart fluttered, my breath catching in my throat. He never told anyone? Not even his family? And he’d invited me here to see him play?

Nora had been wrong about catching feelings. There was no catching involved. They smashed into me, shattering into my soul with a million tiny sparks, filling me with a warm tingly sensation.

He turned back, meeting my gaze, a disarming openness in his eyes. Right there, in that exact moment, I did a terrible, terrible thing.

I fell in love with my boss.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I said.

“I know. I trust you.”

Biting my lower lip, I glanced down at my drink. My heart raced and my cheeks felt warm. He was so sexy and charming and nothing like the stoic robot I’d thought he was. He wore his Mr. Calloway persona like armor. But he’d let me in. Let me see a part of him he’d never shown anyone.

I looked up, meeting his eyes. Before I even started speaking, I could tell my filter was gone—smashed to pieces by Shepherd’s vulnerability. “Thank you for inviting me. Your band is amazing and you’re really good and I’m having a very hard time staying over here on my side of the table. Because you’re so sexy all I want to do right now is launch myself at you.”

Without a second’s hesitation, he stood and yanked me off my stool. His strong hands held me tight against him as he leaned down and took my mouth in a hard kiss.

I flung my arms around his shoulders and had to stop myself from jumping up to wrap my legs around his waist. My fingers tangled in his messy hair as his tongue delved into my mouth. He tasted like whiskey and sex and potent masculinity. Under normal circumstances, I would have held back a little. After all, we were in a public place.

But there was no holding back now. His arms were hot steel around me, his delicious mouth tangling with mine. My heart beat furiously as he sucked on my lower lip, one hand moving beneath my shirt to splay across my ribs. I wanted to rip his clothes off—rip my clothes off—but a tiny part of me, way back in the recesses of my hormone-soaked brain, was still rational. We were in a bar, surrounded by people.

I pulled back, almost gasping for breath. “Where’s your car?”

“I’m parked out back.”

“Let’s go.”

He nodded, grabbing my hand, and led me through the crowd to a side door. My vision was hazy, my lips sensitive and swollen, every nerve ending attuned to him.

We burst out the door into a small parking lot behind the bar. A single bulb cast a dingy light over the cars. After the noise inside, it was almost silent. Just the hum of traffic a few blocks away.

His car unlocked automatically as soon as he got next to it. He grabbed the driver’s side door handle, but I put a hand on his chest.

“Back seat.”

A low growl rumbled in his throat. He opened the back door and practically shoved me inside.

As soon as he sat down, I climbed into his lap. My skirt hiked up my legs as our mouths crashed together, messy and wet. His hands slid up my thighs and I ran my fingers through his hair.

He eagerly licked into my mouth, his tongue sliding along mine. I already knew Shepherd was a fantastic kisser, but this was melting my brain. His lips were soft, but insistent, his hands grabbing me with demanding authority.

Pressing myself closer, I felt his hard-on through his jeans. Oh dear god, that felt good. His hands moved up my thighs and slipped beneath my panties to cup my ass. I rubbed myself against him, tilting my hips, indulging in a little friction against my clit.

“Fuck,” he growled into my mouth.

I’d never felt like this before. So frantic. I was on fire for him, my worries about what this meant burning away to ash.

His stubble on my face was deliciously rough. I couldn’t get enough of him. His tongue, his lips, his hands all over me. He pressed me against his erection and grunted as I nipped his bottom lip with my teeth.

My panties were soaked, the insistent pressure between my legs begging to be sated. His jeans looked sexy as hell, but right now, they were really in my way. Maybe if I just…

Still kissing him, I reached between us to unfasten his pants.

“Everly,” he mumbled. “I’m not—”

The button popped open. He grunted again.

“We’re not—”

I lowered the zipper.

His grip on my ass tightened and he pulled back slightly. “I’m not fucking you for the first time in the back seat of my car.”

First time… first time implied a second time which implied multiple times. I wasn’t just crossing a line out here. I was getting a running start and leaping over it, leaving the line far behind.

“I know,” I said and returned to kissing him while my fingers worked his zipper the rest of the way down. “I just want these out of my way.”

I hadn’t meant to expose him fully. The loose plan in my lust-filled brain was simply to remove the denim barrier between my desperately aroused lady parts and his very tempting cock. I just wanted to rub on him a little more while we made out. But he was so hard—and so big—he stuck out the top of his underwear. And the sight of that magnificent dick, glistening with a drop of precum on the tip, was too much to resist.

Ignoring the fact that we were in a car in a dingy parking lot outside a dive bar, I pulled his underwear down, revealing the length of his glorious cock.

I was so glad I’d worn a skirt. I shifted my hips closer so I could rub myself along his length and his fingers dug into my skin as he guided me, moving me up and down. My panties were still between us, but the friction was intense.

I was dry-humping my boss’s exposed cock in the back of his car and it was fucking amazing.

Shepherd’s hand moved over the top of my thigh, reaching between my legs. His fingertips hooked beneath my panties. “I need to feel your pussy.”

“Do you have a condom?” I panted.

“I won’t… just want a little more.”

He pulled my panties to the side, bringing my wet folds in direct contact with his shaft. I moaned and he grunted as I slowly slid along his length.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“We can’t, can we?”

He groaned as I slid back down. “No. I won’t go in. Not here. But… fuck, you feel so good.”

It did feel good. It felt incredible. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I made a mental note to ask Nora whether it counted as sex if you didn’t achieve actual penetration.

For now, I rubbed myself along his cock as we frantically kissed. Pressure built between my legs, the breathtaking ache of an impending orgasm. I moved faster, grinding my clit against his erection while he gripped my thighs with his strong hands.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “Fuck yes, baby.”

I was too far gone to stop. He thrust against me, guiding me with his hands. Our mouths separated and we both looked down, watching as I rubbed my slit up and down the outside of his glistening cock. It would have been so easy for him to reach in and pick up his dick so I could slide on. Forget the condom situation and fuck me right here.

But he didn’t. He watched with parted lips as I drew my clit against him, over and over, moving faster.

“Yes, baby,” he said. “Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop.”

I wasn’t about to unless he made me. I chased my orgasm all the way to the brink, whimpering as the intensity built.

Just…

A little…

More…

One last long drag up his cock and I burst apart, throwing my head back. He held me while I rode out the waves of pleasure, my wetness soaking him.

I slowed down as I finished, breathing hard. Oh my god, what had I done? I’d just dry-humped—was it dry-humping if there weren’t any clothes between you?—my boss until I came all over him.

Before I could worry about what was supposed to happen next—he was still hard as steel beneath me—he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck. His jaw hitched and his brow furrowed.

“We’re going home and I’m going to fuck the shit out of you when we get there.”