The Contract Girlfriend

CHAPTER ONE

Evie Sinclair burst through the back door of Maple & Sage Bistro. Her coat was dripping, her hair a mess, and her heels squelched. Her apron dangled from one hand, the other clutching her car keys like a lifeline.

"You're late. Again."

Mr. Bartlett didn't look up from the receipts he was counting.

Evie exhaled sharply. "I told you, my car got stuck because of the storm. I literally had to push it out of a puddle."

He raised a brow. "And last week? Let me guess. Tsunami?"

"Flat tyre."

"The week before that?"

"Neighbour's cat. Long story."

He dropped the receipts. "Evie, this is the third time. You're unreliable. You've got a sharp mouth and a bad attitude. You're fired."

"What? You can't fire me. I haven't even clocked in yet!"

He stared. "Then technically, I'm not firing you. I'm just not letting you start."

Evie stood there, soaked, jobless, and utterly humiliated.

"I hope your coffee machine explodes," she muttered, snatching off her apron.

She stormed out of the office and the rain hit her immediately. The sky, officially weeping, perfectly matched her mood. She tossed her box into the backseat of her car, slammed the door shut, and shoved the keys into the ignition.

"Stupid job. Stupid car. Stupid storm," she muttered.

The storm raged louder.

Speed limit? Optional. Wipers? Squeaking. Phone? Dead. Her patience? Buried under frustration and five soggy résumés.

"I gave them two years of my life," she muttered, swerving past a slow-moving van. "Two years. And not even a stupid cupcake on my last day."

A flash of black. A screech. A sickening thud.

Her breath caught. The car jolted. Something, no, someone, had been in the road.

Evie slammed the brakes and sat frozen, eyes wide. "Oh my God."

Her door flew open and she stumbled into the rain, shoes slipping against the wet pavement.

He was lying on the road, soaked, motionless. A man dressed in all black, tall, broad-shouldered, and terrifyingly still. Her heart crashed inside her chest.

"Sir?" she whispered, kneeling beside him. "Can you hear me?"

He didn't move.

"I didn't mean to hit you," she breathed, fumbling for her phone. Dead. "You literally ran in front of me. What were you doing in the middle of the road like some sort of rain spirit?"

Still nothing.

Evie looked around and exhaled sharply. "Fine. We are not leaving you here."

She grunted as she dragged him to her car. He was heavier than he looked. Somehow she managed to prop him in the passenger seat. His head lolled against the window.

"This is not kidnapping," she said aloud, buckling his seatbelt. "This is saving a stranger's life and maybe keeping myself out of jail."

Every red light felt like a countdown to jail. Every siren in the distance made her foot twitch on the pedal.

By the time they reached the emergency room, Evie was shaking so hard she could barely put the car in park.