How to Hook a Hottie Read Online Free Page A

.”
    “Kate DelVecchio.”
    It was like one of those dreams where people are gawking at you and it takes you a while to realize you're naked.
    “DelVecchio's no dog,” a girl said as I rounded a corner. “But she's no Summer Smith, either.”
    That
voice was instantly recognizable. It had blended with mine spring after spring in elementary school when we'd stood outside supermarkets in our Brownie uniforms, hawking Thin Mints and Do-Si-Dos.
    I was tempted to look tough-as-nails Dakota Watson dead in the eye and tell her thanks—and that I didn't think she howled at the moon, either. But what was the point? My banquet date was going to be history by lunch, and this embarrassing mess would be nothing but a blip on the radar of my senior year. Plus, she and I still needed to get along in our Future Business Leaders of America club.
    Feeling the stares of Dakota and her friends drilling into the back of my peacoat, I continued to class, telling myself not to sweat it. Soon I'd be the only one who even remembered this morning had happened.
    •
    To say I was glad to see Dal out on the quad during morning break would be an understatement. I was in dire need of someone who knew me, liked me, and wasn't out to judge me.
    And besides, I had that proposal for him.
    “Did you break your date from hell yet?” he asked as soon as he saw me.
    Okay—I admit I would have preferred a simple “Hi, Kate.” And I
still
wasn't thrilled with how he'd somehow gotten all critical of my so-called love life. But the last thing I wanted was more conflict, so I rubbed my chilly palms together and met his gaze. “Not yet.”
    “What are you waiting for?”
    “Next period. When we have chem.”
    “Oh . . . yeah.” He let out a little laugh, then a smile so wide that it touched his eyes.
    A couple of his hockey buddies stopped by with a big bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos. Which was great—I mean, the more Cheetos the better—until one of them asked about my Big Date. I shot Dal a look, curious to see how he'd respond, and crammed my mouth with artificial cheese.
    “Just a misunderstanding,” he said, and shrugged. “Brandon and Kate are chem partners. That's all.”
    I wasn't letting Dal off the hook
that
easily, so when all eyes fell on me, I gave him a little grin and a shrug. Leaving the door open just a little. I was starting to see that the attention Brandon had given me
did
have its uses. . . .
    The guys switched to talking hockey—
boring
—so I tuned them out and glanced around the quad. Carlton Camp from the student store was sitting alone on a stoop, staring at a nearby group of girls. They seemed oblivious to him, and I sort of felt sorry for him, until one of the girls caught
me
staring, and then I just felt stupid for myself.
    An icy gust of wind suddenly whipped across the quad, doing an Einstein thing to my unhatted hair. Batting it down, I watched a couple of the guys hunch their shoulders against the cold.
    The bell rang, and we all said our goodbyes. Dal walked me toward the science wing. I waited until I was sure we couldn't be overheard, then told him about yesterday—how Chelsea had hired me, and how I wanted his help.
    Astonishment creased his brow. “You want me to ask Mark if he likes her?”
    “Well, I'm hoping you'll be a little smooth about it.”
    “What's in this for me?”
    “Ten bucks.”
    He turned and studied my face. Holding his gaze, I realized I was fiddling with my hair, which I'm sure meant something deep to body-language professionals but which merely told me I was probably coming off as anxious as I felt. And had probably left Cheeto dust in my bangs.
    “Okay,” I amended. “Twenty.”
    He just stared at me—he had me over a barrel and he knew it.
    “And,” I said, dredging the words up from deep within me, “another ten if I need to use your services to close the deal.”
    “Another twenty.”
    “Twenty! Hey, I'm spearheading this. You're just a contractor. And besides, I'm supposed