She shoots me a knowing look. “That you didn’t mention Natalie is going along.”
“Why is that funny?” I don’t need to ask how she knows. Josie is Natalie’s roommate, and they both live in Natalie’s sister’s old place. When Charlotte moved out and married Spencer, she rented her old pad to her sister, giving her a break on rent so Natalie could live in the city and teach night classes at a karate studio here. A few months ago, Josie’s lease ran out so she moved in, too.
It’s not weird for me that my little sister lives with her.
I swear it’s not weird for me at all.
“I just find it odd that you didn’t mention you were going with her,” Josie remarks.
Nick shakes his head, laughing. “Dude, that’s a recipe for trouble if I ever saw one.”
“You should know,” I fire back.
“That’s why I said it.”
I press my palms down against the air, the sign for chill out. “It’s work, peeps.”
Josie tightens the knot on her apron, a light blue number with cherries on it. “Either way, Natalie seems excited for the trip and to see Vegas for the first time.”
My ears prick. “She does?” Fuck, my voice just rose at the end, like a ninth-grader rattling around in puberty. I shrug it off with a casual, “I mean, cool.”
My bluff doesn’t go unnoticed. Josie raises a knowing eyebrow but simply says, “Make sure she sees the sights, okay?”
“I will. Vegas sign. A gondola ride. Bellagio Fountains.”
“What’s underneath your zipper,” Nick whispers in my ear, and I elbow the fucker.
“Just be a good guy. Like you always told me a girl deserves,” Josie says as she returns to the counter, and her words tug at something inside me. At my heart’s deepest wish—to be a good guy. Because I wasn’t always. But if I am now, it’s because of Josie. I fucking love that girl like nobody’s business.
She points to both of us. “That applies to both of you as a general rule of thumb. I know exactly what the two of you are like. I grew up with you troublemakers, remember?”
I salute her and bring my heels together, standing at attention. “I’m always a good guy, Josie.”
Nick and I leave, heading for Little Friends dog rescue where we volunteer.
“Do you even know how to be a good boy?” he asks as we walk up Columbus, the warm spring air surrounding us.
I grab my shades from my T-shirt neckline and drop them over my eyes. “Yes. I do the opposite from you.”
“You are going to be so fucked,” he says, shaking his head as he laughs at me. We sidestep a jogger in neon pink leggings while cabs and cars chug along on the avenue. “You’ve had it bad for Natalie since Spencer’s wedding. Remember?”
I wave a hand dismissively. “Nah, that’s not true.”
“Dude, you told me she wanted you when she came over to dance with me at the wedding.”
“She did want me.”
“My point exactly. You only say that when you want a girl.”
I stare up at the blue sky. “Pretty sure I say that all the time. I’m a cocky bastard, right?” I wink, then clap him on the shoulder as we reach the crosswalk. “Relax, cowboy. Even if I once wanted her, I’m a master at self-control.”
He scoffs. “Self-control. Words never used before to describe my little brother.”
I pretend to laugh. “Maybe you don’t know me that well.”
“I think I know you better than anyone.”
“Then, tell me this, oh wise one—how else would I have managed the feat of the century in staying away from her for all these months?” I arch a challenging eyebrow at Nick, waiting for him to give it back to me.
He pushes his glasses higher and nods slightly. “Fine, fine. You have some self-control.” He shakes his head like he doesn’t believe it.
But I believe it.
I have to.
Especially when three days later, I get on a private jet with Natalie Rhodes, temptation made flesh, the All-American black belt with a tongue of iron fire.
As she settles down into a beige leather seat and crosses her legs, she shoots me a smile.
That sweet, sexy smile.
Fuck, being a good boy is way overrated. I want to be bad with her.
5
I could get used to this. The leather seats that recline all the way. The impeccable service, including a three-course lunch. A quiet ride in the lap of luxury next to Natalie.
Lila snoozes in her seat across the aisle. She popped a Xanax. Flying makes her anxious, she’d said, so she’s in the land of nod, a black satin eye mask snug on her face.
“Can I get you anything else?” the flight attendant asks us.
I do a double take. For a split second, it registers that she’s pretty. She’s been serving us the whole flight, but it just hit me—her looks. Silky red hair, full lips, and warm brown eyes, along with a tight, trim figure. But then, all thoughts of her fall out of my head. And that’s not just because it would be rude to hit on the flight attendant on Lila’s plane, and it would also be classless to hit on her in front of an employee. But the reality is I don’t really want to get to know her more. I’m kind of interested in talking to Natalie on this flight. Even though we tease each other at the office, and even though we’ve gone to dinner a few times, we mostly chat about work. There’s a lot I don’t know about her.
The attendant clears our Ahi tuna lunch dishes and asks if we’d like to watch a movie. I shift my focus to Natalie, letting her decide. She shakes her head and says, “I think I’ll read.”