Smart Girl by Rachel Hollis Read Free Book Online Page B

My stupid e-book skipped to a later chapter, and I just read the word submissive in a place of work, during a business meeting! Hysterical laughter bubbles up inside me, but I tamp it down. A few more seconds and I would have asked him the rest of that question and then promptly committed seppuku with the Montblanc on his desk. I shut down the tablet and toss it into my bag like it’s on fire.
    “Did you just—”
    “Nope,” I cut him off. “Let’s just move on.”
    He opens his mouth to answer. Closes it. Opens it again.
    I am such an absolute idiot! Why, oh why did I choose something so risqué as my first choice? Even as I ask myself, I know the answer. I want Liam to see me as a woman, not as his little sister’s friend. While that scene is mild, the book is sexy. I somehow thought some of that sexy might rub off on me. Which is ridiculous! Given my experience with awkwardness, I was absolutely asking for something embarrassing like this to happen! So now not only does he think I’m a weirdo, there’s an excellent chance he thinks I have Tourette’s or design red rooms for a whole different clientele on weekends!
    I look out into the office beyond his and will myself to find the composure necessary to ask a relatively normal question.
    “What is your role within the company?”
    He looks utterly confused, which I suppose is the kindest reaction he could have when my weirdness hits level ten.
    Liam looks out the wall of glass into the hallway, where Barker-Ash employees bustle around like a swarm of bees. “Let’s put it this way: if Dad is the captain of the ship and Brody is the muscle, I’m the big-bosomed wench they send to shore to sweet-talk new sailors into joining up.”
    I shake my head in total disregard for his answer and grasp the new conversation topic with both hands.
    “First of all, that’s not even historically accurate. No ship captain kept a wench on staff to lure new sailors.”
    The grin breaks into a real smile.
    “Are you sure?”
    I cross my legs in a huff.
    “Of course I’m sure. Do you know how many love stories I’ve read that take place on the high seas?”
    He rests his chin in his hand with a bemused expression.
    “Oh, hundreds, I imagine.”
    “Exactly. So I know what I’m talking about.”
    “I’m thrilled at least one of us does. Pirates, was it?”
    I scowl.
    “It was your allusion, and you know it was about sailors! But that’s not the point.”
    “There was a point? How exciting.”
    “We were talking about your success.”
    “I believe we were talking about maritime wenches.”
    I can’t help my smile.
    “Incidentally, that would make an incredible band name.”
    He smiles back.
    Our conversations always become this fast-paced banter. He’s witty and funny, and that makes for the best partner to verbally spar with. He’s also an expert at leading us away from any conversation in which we discuss something deeper than the weather. I came here with an interview in mind, because discussing work seemed at least a bit more substantial than trading pleasantries. I won’t let him wave the discussion away.
    An idea occurs to me. I grab my phone and pull up a page on Wikipedia before responding.
    “Liam Ashton,” I read off the screen with the same tone he used when reading my bio weeks ago. “Graduated from USC. Started in the mailroom at CAA. After being promoted to an assistant, he transferred to Barker-Ash as an account coordinator.”
    He shrugs. “So maybe I thought being an agent might be an excellent way to meet beautiful actresses. Or ultimately I was a slacker, and I found it easier to transfer to the family business, where I wouldn’t really be held accountable. Much less demanding.”
    What is his deal? Why is he insisting on being so flippant?
    “Right. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that your father worked in that exact same mailroom right out of college. A terrible job that hundreds of people apply for but only a handful