Billionaires Dollar Series

“You need it regularly,” Nick says.

I lean back in the leather chair and look at them through narrowed eyes. “And when did you two become such experts, anyway? You were both inveterate bachelors until a few years ago. Besides, I have kids. It’s different for me.”

Cole nods, like he’s some goddamn expert after three months of fatherhood. “Sure is.”

I shake my head at him. “You have a wife who thinks you walk on water and a host of staff.”

He grins, unashamed. “Yes,” he says, “and I’m loving every second of it. But with a bit of dating, that could be you.”

Nick reaches over and touches his glass to mine. Taller than both Cole and me, and with a wolfish glint to his eyes, he’s not a man to trifle with. “Don’t listen to the man,” he tells me. “He won the tennis match earlier. You know how he gets.”

I give a sage nod, knowing it’ll infuriate Cole. The competitive nature between us runs deep-and ever since I’d become a semi-regular at their tennis matches, that tension had only increased.

“I don’t want to date,” I say. “Another time commitment? Shoot me. Besides, I have no interest in the women who frequent your parties. No offense, Cole.”

He grins. “None taken. I didn’t fish from that pool myself either, so to speak.”

“They’re not all bad,” Nick says, narrowing his eyes at Cole.

Predictably, he rolls his eyes. “I thought it was obvious that I didn’t include my sister in that statement.”

“Neither did I,” I add, knowing from experience how defensive Nick is of Blair’s reputation.

Cole turns his attention back to me. The setting sun bathes his backyard in golden light, a fellow Greenwood Hills resident. “All right,” he says. “There’s no one around but Nick and me. Be honest. When was the last time you got laid?”

I lean back in my chair. The sky is a beautiful deep orange as I look to the heavens for help. I receive none. “I’m not answering that.”

“Talking about it might help,” Nick points out, contained amusement in his voice. “That’s what I’m told all the time these days. Communication helps.”

“I’m not holding a damn feeling stick and telling you two about my sex life.” Or lack thereof. The last one-night stand had been… seven months ago on a business trip to New York. But they don’t need more fodder for their amusement.

They continue talking like I’m not there. Cole wants to set me up with someone-something about an old college friend’s cousin-and gets so far into planning that I’m forced to zone back into the conversation.

“Out of the question. I have my two girls and I’m perfectly happy with that.” I drain my glass of whiskey and ignore the pang that accompanies the statement. I am more than happy with my daughters. I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world-not even the world itself. And yet, there is a small part of me that sees what Nick and Cole have, and thinks…

No. I’ve had too much to drink if I’m unraveling into self-pity like this.

“I’d better go,” I say, rising from the lawn chair. “See you around, assholes. And the next time, I don’t want to hear another word about how lonely you think I am.”

I find my own way past Cole’s house and onto the large driveway in the front. Shutting the gate behind me, I begin the short walk from his house to my own.

The lots in Greenwood Hills might be big, and the area heavily forested, but we’re not many who live here. All that spaciousness makes for a beautiful environment to raise kids. That’s why I’d bought the house originally, when Lyra had been pregnant with Haven.

I snort at the memory. My ex-wife had been disappointed that the house didn’t have waterfront access to Lake Washington, and it hadn’t helped when I told her those houses only go on the market once a century.

But then again, Lyra had only ever been after the money and status I could provide. Getting pregnant had been an excellent method to get her hands on it.

Walking onto my cul-de-sac, I glance at the house next to mine. Bella Simmons’s new home for the summer. She was infinitely preferable to her aunt and uncle, who had never once smiled or said hello in the years I’d lived here. Not that I’d ever made much of an effort back, to be fair. I couldn’t really remember what they looked like.

But Bella, I remember perfectly.

Thick, brown hair and big doe eyes. Long legs, fair skin. It had been creamy in the sunlight, the day I’d seen her tanning. It had been from quite a distance, yes, but I’d have to be blind to be unmoved by the sight of her body in nothing but a pair of bikini bottoms. Soft-looking skin and pink nipples.

I shake my head at my own leering thoughts as I unlock the front gate to my property. I’m the one in the wrong. Spying on her from the tree, accidental or not. Having lustful thoughts.

Talking to her hadn’t helped.

She’d stood right here in my hallway, her cheeks flushed, holding a tray of brownies made just for me. Rambling in her speech and gorgeous in her sundress. Sweet and young and clearly not for me.

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s niece, I think, snorting. Perhaps Nick and Cole had been on to something when they told me to find at least semi-regular female company. But where would I find the time?

The house is quiet when I open the front door. Haven and Evie had been sound asleep when I left, Maria reading in the room between theirs in case they needed anything. There are alarms and safety cameras aplenty. I’d just been across the street, too. But I don’t fully relax until I walk past their bedrooms, peering in to see their small, sleeping forms.

I’d been right. There is no way I could have anything to do with dating, not when my heart-and my schedule-is already this full.

But that doesn’t stop me from heading to the kitchen and grabbing one of those delicious chocolate squares to eat, my thoughts drifting to the beautiful brunette who’d made them.

A man could still fantasize, right?

“No, you’re staying here.”

Toast looks up at me like my mere existence is a personal insult. I press my leg into the half-opened front door and remember exactly why I’m more of a dog person.NôvelDrama.Org © content.

“You’re not getting out. Not on my watch. They printed it in bold and underlined in the instructions I got.”

Toast bumps his head against my leg, and not affectionately. “No,” I say again. “Now, I’m going to pull my leg back to shut this door. Do you promise me you won’t try to stick a paw in or something? I don’t want you getting hurt. Just think of how much a visit to the vet would mess up your day.”

Not to mention mine.

Toast sits down, looking up at me angelically. I’m not buying it. It might be a ploy.

“Okay now.” I pull the door shut slowly, inch by inch. “I’ll be back tonight. Don’t break any vases.”

And then, at the last second, a loud meow. But the door is shut. Breathing a sigh of relief, I lock it behind me.

“If this is to become a daily thing,” I tell the shut door and the devious cat behind it, “then I think I deserve a raise.”

There’s no response. Hoisting my bag up higher on my shoulder, I search through my pockets for my car keys. Should be here somewhere…

I find the keys and unlock the door to my 2007 Honda Civic. It’s an old madam, this car. Possibly one of the least flashy cars this neighborhood-and this specific driveway-has ever seen.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, I look down at my watch. I still have plenty of time. While there are no classes over the summer, I still have regular meetings with my supervisors, and they don’t appreciate lateness.

I turn the key in the ignition.

Nothing happens. The nothingness is pretty spectacular, actually. Not the faintest sound of an engine.

“Not you too,” I tell it, thinking of Toast’s escapist stunts. “Behave.”