Hit & Run Bride (Hit & Run Bride Contemporary Romance Series) (6 page)

“The second thing every mother wants.” Alex watched the bartender’s backside as she served a customer at the other end of the bar. “Maybe you could land a fake girlfriend.”

Liam laughed. “Why? Because I’m too much of a loser to snag a real one?”

“Something like that.”

“I brought you here to cheer me up. You’re failing.”

“You brought me here to whine. Whining is for losers. If you want to make Mother Caldwell happy, find a girlfriend.”

The memory of Becca wrapped around him in the pool flashed through Liam’s mind. She was a pathetic mess in the water, but she was pretty, and soft spoken, and...so not his type. “My options right now are limited.”

The bartender hustled back over to them, a bottle of tequila in hand. “Another round, boys?”

“You married?” Alex asked her.

She arched a brow. “You proposing?”

“My friend here needs a girl to take home to mom.”

“No offense,” she said to Liam, then met Alex’s eyes. “I’d rather go home with you.”

“That could be arranged,” he muttered. “Got any single friends?”

“Enough,” Liam interrupted. “I’m not a loser who needs a fake girlfriend.”

Several heads rose from those gathered around the bar to eyeball him. Yep. It had been that kind of day.

As the group witnessing his pity party went back to their conversations and the bartender sauntered away, Liam laughed at himself. He liked his job at the Club for the most part, and he loved his volunteer work. Both allowed him to spend time with his mother and make sure at least one of the men in her life took care of her. He wasn’t going to second-guess his choices, including the one where he’d never in hell swim or coach for his father again.

He slid his untouched shot in front of Alex and slapped his friend on the back. “I’m going home.”

“I just got here, and we haven’t solved your problem yet.”

Inside his pocket, Liam’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out. A text.

Hi. Is it too late to call you?

He didn’t recognize the number. And who would text and ask if it was all right to call this time of night? He texted back,
Who is this?

A moment later, he got his answer.

Becca. From swim class. You gave me your number.

Miss Hit and Run. His lower body tightened just thinking about her and her revealing swimsuit. Those corkscrew curls on her head that had tickled his nose.

“Who is it?” Alex asked, peering over Liam’s shoulder.

“No one. Just a student.”

“Becca, huh?” he read. “You gave her your private number? Atta boy. Is she hot?”

She was hot all right.
“I can talk,”
he texted back.
Give me five minutes.

The return text was a smiley face.

“Awww.” Alex made kissy noises as he followed Liam out of the bar. “Isn’t that sweet? A smiley face. Please tell me Becca is legal.”

The cool night air hit Liam’s face, and he stopped for a moment to clear his head. “Of course she’s legal. I gotta go. I’ll catch you tomorrow.”

“Wait. Tell me about Becca. You’ve got that goofy look on your face.”

Liam climbed into his car—he’d dropped his motorcycle off at the shop—and when Alex approached, he flipped the locks. Then as Alex flipped him off and cursed him out, Liam dialed Becca’s number.

“Hello?” she said on the first ring.

“Hey. What’s up?”

She hesitated. “I, uh...I was wondering if the privates were still available?”

The what?
“Excuse me?”

“The private lessons. You said you’d give me private lessons,” she rushed on. “Are they still available?”

Becca. In that suit. Wrapping her legs around him in the water. The lessons were on. Definitely on. “Yeah, of course. When can you start?”
Tomorrow. Please, say tomorrow.
He needed to see her again.

“Um, I could get away Wednesday evening. Would that work?”

Two days. “Sure. Around ten p.m. is best. The pool is closed to the public, but I can give you a half hour lesson before they clean it.”

“That late, huh? Well, okay. I can be there.”

Satisfaction warmed his stomach. “Great. See you then.”

“Liam?”

“Yeah?”

“How fast do you think you can have me swimming? I mean, like,
really
swimming.”

“Depends on several factors. Why?”

“I’m sort of on a deadline.”

A deadline? That was a new one. “What kind of deadline?”

“An important one. I was wondering how long it would take for me to swim, you know, like for real.”

“Let’s get through the first private lesson and see how you do, okay?”

“Um, okay.”

She sounded disappointed.

He hated letting anyone down, so he added, “Trust me, Becca. If anyone can teach you to swim, it’s me. I have a lot of experience.”

Her voice brightened, but it sounded fake. “Right, then! I’ll see you Wednesday.”

As they disconnected, Liam smiled into the night. Wednesday, and Becca in her swimsuit, couldn’t come fast enough.

Chapter Five

By Wednesday morning, Becca still didn’t have any more clarity—on her life or her job. She tried to find patience she didn’t feel while glaring at the branding manager assigned to her project. “Charity, I don’t understand. In order to pull something together for the website, I need to see the designs for Southland. Without it, nothing else can move forward.”

Charity Miller, one of the resident Tribots who hated Becca, scowled. “Like I said, the brand identity package is still in development. You’ll have to wing the website layout. Jennings wants to see a comp by Monday.”

Becca eyed the exercise bands on the back of one of the chairs and considered strangling the daft girl with them. “And like
I
said, everything design-wise hinges on the brand identity package. I suggest you get your butt in gear and finish it.”

Charity wrapped her index finger with several platinum blond locks. “Maybe you should run to Elite’s marketing manager and ask him to provide you with the designs.”

Becca pinched the bridge of her nose, the heavy diamond slanting to the side of her ring finger. Of course, Charity would throw her relationship with Holden into this. “I understand you’re upset that you weren’t put in charge of this project, but it is your job to provide the team with the finalized branding idea. You understand this, right? The rest of the team needs direction based on Southland’s brand identity.”

The girl shrugged her slim, tanned shoulders. “Then give them some direction. This is your project, after all.”

Do not kill her. Kill her, and you’ll do jail time.
Still, Becca was tempted.
Orange is not a good color for you.
Jumpsuits were cute in jersey and silk blends, not in cotton and polyester.

Through a clenched jaw, she mumbled, “I’ll talk to the branding team and give them some direction, but then you’ll need to handle it from there.”

Charity smirked. “Good. And after you speak to the team, I’ll need you to report back to me so I have something to tell Jennings.”

Becca cracked her neck. “I send out a daily project report every morning, and believe it or not, Brett Jennings gets one as well.”

Tribot Charity shrugged and turned to leave. “Oh, by the way, congratulations on the engagement. Your ring is really pretty.”

Becca mumbled a thank you before slumping back into her chair. Seriously, was the whole world against her? Yesterday, she’d tried to have a meeting with the sales and marketing team in charge of signing Addison Torres, the Olympic swimmer. They’d given her some bullshit runaround about how Addison’s people had yet to get back to them. She needed to pull this shit together and pronto, otherwise, they’d pull her off this project.

A project
you don’t deserve
.

She swallowed hard and tamped down the flare of insecurity. She might not have as much experience as some of the others, but there was no reason she couldn’t succeed. Never mind it was because of Holden that she even had the job, and probably because of him that she’d been given this chance.

She still needed to talk to him about that. But then, they had a lot to still talk about.

Right now, she had more pressing concerns. Chocolate. With a boost of sugar, she could face the design team and tell them they were on their own for coming up with web comps without branding.

Burrowing through her desk drawer, she pulled out a Snickers and made quick work of the wrapper. The chocolate, nougat, and peanuts went a long way toward improving her mood. She reached for the phone to call Drew in design, but her phone rang instead. She stared at the caller ID. Unknown number. She answered dubiously. “This is Becca.”

“So the only way to get a hold of you is to call you at your office?”

Becca nearly choked on a piece of nougat. “Hi, Mom. Sorry. I’ve just been busy.”
Busy avoiding telling you about this ugly ass rock on my finger.

“Too busy to call your mother? Honey, when you worked in the city, at least we saw you every few weeks. Since you moved to California, it’s not the same.”

Ahh, good old fashioned guilt. “I’m having a crappy couple of days, and I can’t seem to see my way out yet.”

Her mother was silent for a beat. “What’s the matter?”

Becca debated how much to tell her. She didn’t want to get into the whole Holden thing at work. She was always paranoid that the IT team was listening in. Unlike most people, she’d read her employment contract very carefully. There had been a clause in there about how company phone calls were subject to being recorded.

Instead, she told a half truth. “I’ve been given a new project at work, and it’s pretty difficult getting any traction.”

Her mother chuckled. “You’ve always been determined, honey. You’ll find a way.”

“Doesn’t help that no one thinks I deserve it. I’ve only been here a year.”

“It’s not about how long you’ve been somewhere; it’s about what you bring to the table. And you have a unique perspective. You merely have to work it.”

Work it.
Riiiight
. “I hear what you’re saying. It’s a pain, but I don’t want to screw this up.”

She’d left Bloomingdale’s, having interned there all four years of college, then working there for a full year, after she realized that the only way to move up and get promoted was to do the boss. She’d caught him with one of the other junior project associates after a party once. A week later, that associate was the project lead on social media initiatives.

No matter how badly Becca wanted to be successful, she wasn’t going there. Ever. Too bad that’s what everyone thought anyway because of Holden. He’d always promised to stay out of her career, but it looked like he hadn’t kept his promise.

“You won’t screw this up. You’re smart and resourceful and have a different way of looking at things. It’ll make you stand out. You’ll see. You have to remember that it’s okay to stumble sometimes. It’s not the end of the world.”

Yeah, she wasn’t so much down for the stumbling. But maybe her mother was right. She
did
have a knack for making things work in her favor.

A pang of guilt tied Becca’s stomach into a knot. Now would be the perfect time to tell her mother about her engagement. But as her mother filled her in on what was happening at home, Becca couldn’t find the words.

She was still on the phone when Van breezed into the office, plopping into a seat with a dramatic sigh. She waggled her eyebrows and mouthed, “Who is that? Liam?”

Becca shook her head and bit back a giggle. She mouthed back, “Mom.”

Van lost interest in the conversation, pulling out her phone to check her email.

After Becca’s mother recounted a story about adventures in raccoon hunting with one of the neighbors, she asked, “Anything new happening besides the job? Any man news?”

And by
man news
, her mom meant, ‘Have you met anyone new besides Holden?’ Her parents had met Holden during Thanksgiving last year, and it had gone fine, but her mother had made it clear that while Holden was nice and all, she didn’t think he was right for Becca.

Becca stifled the urge to blurt out Liam’s name and searched for the courage to tell her mother about her engagement. She grabbed the bag of Snickers in her desk and peered inside. No courage to be found in there, but there was a dark chocolate bite-sized one at the bottom. Those were healthy, right?

“Nothing to report, Mom. Same old, same old. Listen, I have to go and deal with this design thing. I’ll call you this weekend.” Yes, by the weekend, she’d have it all sorted. Then she could tell her mother that they were getting married in that little church and that she had a ring she loved. Putting it off was really best until she’d talked some sense into her fiancé.

Van waited until Becca had hung up with her mother before pouncing. “So, what you’re
not
saying is…you haven’t told your mother you’re engaged.”

“I—” She cleared her throat. “I figured it could wait a little. Besides, I want to do it right, send pictures of my ring, let her happily start daydreaming and calling venues back home and stuff. Holden and I still have things to work out.”