For the first time in her life, Jessie knows what she wants. Devin Bennett. And she’s not above torturing him with temptation to make it happen.
Dedication
To Layla.
The light of my life. The center of my universe. The reason I get out of bed in the morning.
You’re not a dog, you’re a furry therapist.
Thank you for the cuddles and kisses.
You can’t read this, but walkies and extra treats are coming your way.
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
AstroTurf: Equistone Partners Europe
Barbie: Mattel, Inc.
Bratz: MGA Entertainment Inc.
Buick: General Motors Company
Cheshire Cat: Lewis Carroll
Chevy: General Motors Company
Chuck E. Cheese: CEC Entertainment, Inc.
Civic: Honda Motor Co., Ltd.
Dr. Strangelove: Columbia Pictures Industries, Inc
F-150: Ford Motor Company
Facebook: Facebook, Inc.
Falcon: Ford Motor Company
Focus: Ford Motor Company
Hallmark: Crown Media Holdings, Inc.
Jeep: FCA US LLC
Jenga: Hasbro, Inc.
Kleenex: Kimberly-Clark Corporation
Mack truck: Mack Trucks, Inc.
Macy’s: Macy’s, Inc.
Miss Piggy: The Walt Disney Company
All Apologies: Kurt Cobain
Pontiac: General Motors Company
Prozac: Pfizer Inc.
Ranger: General Motors Company
Ron Burgundy: DreamWorks Pictures
Saab: Saab Automobile AB
Tinder: Tinder Inc.
Toyota: Toyota Motor Corporation
Uber: Uber Technologies, Inc.
Chapter One
Jessie
I tap my sneaker on the faded tile floor of the auditorium and check the clock for the tenth time in thirty seconds. Perched on the last two inches of my seat, my butt nearly sliding off the curved plastic edge, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and eye the exit fifteen feet away. If I’m quick, he won’t even notice me leave.
Don’t judge.
I love my Marketing Principles class, but Professor Pfeffer always ends ten minutes early. Always. That’s why he’s my favorite. Well, that, and because his name is so fun to say.
He’s got to be about done, right? Professor P. reaches into his briefcase and pulls out a notepad. I guess not. He’s rambling about some end-of-term project and, while I’m sure it’s important, I’ve got to go. Today—like every day—I’ve got more to do than I’ve got hours to do it.
When Professor P. turns to the whiteboard, I make a break for it. I’m up the aisle and out of the door in a flash. I’ll just grab the notes from Austin later.
I close my eyes and turn my face up to the warm sun, taking a deep breath and reveling in the chilly air filling my lungs after two hours in that stuffy lecture. I bask in the sunshine for a full two seconds, then tighten my high ponytail and get moving. I grab a protein bar, my cell and my headphones out of my bag before throwing it over my shoulder.
The three missed texts from Maddy are no surprise, but guilt still churns in my empty stomach. I take a big bite of my protein bar and head off towards the baseball field at an easy run. I’m going to have to book it if I don’t want to be late to intramural kickball.