I get up slowly and stretch, groaning, and then amble toward the French doors leading out to the veranda overlooking the river from on top of the world, patting my stomach as I walk. Damn, I’ve got to start hitting the gym like a madman when I get home. I’ve been aglutton this whole week in Vegas. Shit, especially now that fitness is gonna be my business, I’ve got to kick it up a notch, take a page out of Jonas’ book. I certainly can’t let my stupid brother show me up in the gym. Ha! Oh, fuck, I’m excited. I’m so fucking excited, I feel like a kid on Christmas Eve. My awesome life’s about to get a whole lot more awesome. Sayonara, Faraday & Sons, I won’t miss you.
I inhale deeply as the cool night air on the veranda hits my face and settle myself into one of the cushioned wicker chairs overlooking the shimmering river in the distance.
I’m just so flabbergasted at today’s turn of events, I can’t process. Jonas is gonna get engaged to a girl he’s basically just met—and Uncle William is thrilled about the idea. Shit, Uncle William justencouragedJonas to do it. I never would have predicted that in a million-trillion years. And that wasn’t even the first time Uncle William shocked the hell out of me tonight: he absolutely floored me with his reaction when he found out both Jonas and I are leaving Faraday & Sons, too. I thought for sure he’d try to persuade us to stay—maybe talk about honor and obligation and how much it meant to our father to have his sons carry the mantle of Faraday & Sons. But he didn’t say any of it. All he did was look both of us in the eyes and say, “I’m proud of you boys. Always follow your hearts.” I swear to God, wonders never cease.
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I grab it and grin at the text message on my screen.
“Hi, Playboy!” Kat’s message says. “Wanted to give you a little update on what your generous donation to the Kat and Hannah Hedonism Fund has bought you!” She adds a string of emojis: red hearts, clapping hands, a champagne bottle, a donkey and handcuffs. I laugh out loud. “We’re having SO MUCH FUN!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you, my dearest, darlingest Playboy!!!! You are the most generous man in the whole wide world! And the sexiest, too!!!!!!! MEOW!” She adds a dog emoji. I don’t know what the fuck that’s supposed to mean, especially in light of her “meow,” but I laugh anyway.
A second message comes in right on the heels of the first one. “Oops. I meant...” She adds a cat emoji. “The dog and cat were right next to each other on the emoji menu and I pressed the wrong one. The cat is me! MEOW! I’m Kitty Kat and this is you.” She adds amuscled arm emoji. “Because you’re so big and strong and sexy!! And together we’re...” She adds an emoji of a fireworks display.
I can’t wipe the smile off my face. Something tells me Kat is drunk-texting right now. And I love it. I’m about to write a reply when I get another message from her.
“And now—dooh-dooh-dooh!!!” Kat writes, followed by a trumpet emoji. “It’s time for a slideshow created especially for you, my dearest, darlingest Playboy with the Heart of Gold! Here you go!”
A photo of Kat and Hannah by the pool, toasting the camera with fruity-looking drinks, hits my screen. Kat’s holding up a white napkin with the message, “THANK YOU, JOSH!” scrawled across it in black ink.
There’s no time to reply. Another photo lands on my screen: Kat and Hannah in fluffy white bathrobes, sitting on an overstuffed white couch, toasting the camera with what looks like ice water. They look like they’re in a spa waiting room. Again, Kat’s got a napkin with a message written across it: “YOU ROCK, JOSHUA WILLIAM FARADAY!”
Another photo. Kat and Hannah draped around a shirtless, greased-up, tanning-bed-muscle guy, all three of them standing under a neon sign that says “Thunder from Down Under.” I laugh out loud at the expressions on the girls’ faces in this shot. They’re both making “O” faces. The writing on Kat’s napkin this time is too lengthy and small to read, so I touch my screen and zoom in on the napkin ’til it’s legible. “This man just impregnated both of us, Josh!” the napkin says. “Your money hard at work!” I burst out laughing.
If the glistening guy in the photo didn’t look so completely gay, I might blanche at this note. But, what am I thinking? Probably not, actually. Kat’s fucking hysterical, no matter what she does. She just kills me. And I must say, Hannah seems to be quite the sidekick for my adorable little terrorist—a great girl through and through. Henn sure thought so when the four of us had a three-hour dinner and then went dancing last night. Talk about instant chemistry—Henn and Hannah clicked like they’d known each other for years. Same sense of humor; same quirky-hipster-cool dorkiness; and, oh my God, what a comedy duo on the dance floor those two turned out to be.
Yet another photo lands on my screen. This time it’s Kat and Hannah sitting at a table in what appears to be a high-end restaurant,holding up wine goblets and a napkin that says, “To Josh Faraday, our generous benefactor!”
I can’t help smiling. I can’t believe this is the same girl who didn’t chase me evenonceduring my last trip to Manhattan a couple weeks ago. She played it so fucking cool that whole week, didn’t she? Doing nothing but replying to my few, brief douchebag-texts to her, always making sure not to say a damned thing to reveal her interest in me. I knew her game, of course—since it was the same game I was playing with her—but, still, it surprised the hell out of me she could hold out so long without revealing a single crack in her hard-to-get armor.
This time, though, the woman’s got no game whatsoever. And I love it. She’s been peppering my inbox with adorable and affectionate texts almost nonstop since even before I boarded my flight for NYC. And I’ve been doing the same to her, pretty much nonstop. I can’t help myself—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Kat since I kissed her goodbye early this morning and headed to the airport. Man, that was one bed I was sorry to leave.
Another photo lands on my screen. This time, the photo is Kat all by herself, alone in the same bed I left her in this morning. She’s wearing her barely there white tank top and G-string—the same clothes she was wearing this morning when I kissed her goodbye. Her hair’s tousled. Her eyes are half-mast and full of arousal. Man, that’s the look that makes my cock tingle—the same look she gets right after she comes. I’d bet anything she took this photo right after getting herself off—and, hopefully, thinking of me while she did it.
But that’s not even the best part of the photo. The best part, the thing that’s making my heart pound painfully in my chest, is what Kat’s napkin says this time: “Wish you were here.”
“Me, too,” I say aloud into the darkness of the night. In fact, there’s no place I’d rather be than in bed next to Katherine Ulla Morgan. I take a deep breath, my mind smelling her phantom scent all around me. Damn. I miss her.
I touch the button on my phone to call her, my skin buzzing, my heart panging—but before the call connects, the French door behind me opens and Jonas walks onto the veranda. I quickly disconnect the call.
16
JOSH
“Hey, bro,” I say to Jonas, glancing behind him to see if he’s alone. He is. Good. I’m eager to talk to my brother man-to-man for a bit, just the two of us.
Jonas hands me a bottle of beer and takes the wicker chair next to mine, overlooking the moonlit river. “Uncle William’s moved on to showing Sarah photos of his fly-fishing trips,” Jonas says.
“Aaaah! Run away!” I say.
“As fast as my legs would carry me.”
I take a sip of my beer. “That man sure can talk about fish.”
“He sure can.”
“Even a fish would get sick of Uncle William’s stories about fish,” I say. “They’d be like, ‘Dude. Talk abouthumansoccasionally.Please. You’re hurting my fish-ears.’”
Jonas chuckles. “The man loves his fish.”
“Do fish have ears?” I ask.
