Junk Mail

It all started with a sexy selfie.Texted to the wrong number.Oops.Not my finest moment—but I have nothing to be ashamed of.She thought I was no better, and I quote, than the knuckle-dragging douche-bags she was never dating again.It was a stupid dare from a girl I’d met online, but since she’d given me a fake number, I didn’t feel bad that my interests were suddenly focused elsewhere—on the fiery and sharp-tongued, Peyton that I found myself sparring with over text for the rest of the evening.The following Monday, my case of mistaken identity came back to bite me in the banana.When I strolled into the office, and my business partner introduced me to Peyton as the new client I needed to win over to secure our expansion, I was ready for a challenge. I just had no idea that challenge was going to be learning how to work alongside her with an eight-hour erection.