“That’s not what I meant. Your team all has goals, plans, dreams. Jackson makes buildings like they’re the Sistine Chapel and he’s Michelangelo. Ryder rules his bare-knuckle fight empire like Julius Caesar. Don’t even get me started on the wiz kid who continually whips Wall Street into submission.”
“No cute historical reference for Parker—he’ll be hurt.”
“So…”
“So…” Cash parrots back to me. He leans casually against the bars of the walkway, completely relaxed. He doesn’t understand what I’m asking. All right. I’ll lead the horse a little more.
“Okay. What’s your five year plan?” My mother was all about the plan when I was a kid. It’s how I got into the University of Texas and eventually Harvard. Form a plan and then work the plan, that’s what my Mama would always say.
“Who needs a five year plan?”
“I have one.”
“Of course you do, and how’s that worked out for you?” He looks down his nose at me like I might be stupid for even thinking about having a plan. My plan has worked out very well, I want to snap back. But this isn’t about me. So I take a deep breath and start in on my plan speech.
“Aside from the personal life stuff, really well. I’m an associate at my law firm and under consideration for promotion to be the head of my department.”
“Hold on. You have a personal five year plan?”
“Yes.”
“That’s ridiculous. You can’t plan your personal life like it’s some sort of checklist. What, you want to be married in two years and have a baby in three?”
“Is there a problem with that?” Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy having a new man at every turn as much as Cash enjoys walking women up those stairs of his, but at some point I just want it to end. Not now, but in the next five years—who knows?
Just as the fight looms on the horizon, Cash sets us on a different course, trapping me between the bar and his body. I lean back so that I can still look him in the eye. My body may respond positively to his advances but I’m not done with this discussion yet. “See, this is also how you end up in dating hell. Love isn’t about planning. You can’t network your way into love. Love is always, always about the here.” He trails kisses across my cheek and casually nibbles on my ear while his hands burrow their way under my shirt. I suck in a breath. “The now. Got me?”
Uh-huh. Loud and clear.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Cash
I pull into the drive of Jackson’s restored craftsman—it matches the battle between classic and modern just like my friend. By the cars in the drive, the guys and Shelby and her crew are already here. If the meeting at the bar was bad, this was going to be worse.
“Everyone’s here,” Savannah says. Her eyes sweep over the house a dubious expression locked in place. At least we’re on the same page. It’s one thing when we were just getting shit-faced at the bar together, now we’re fucking. She disappears back into her phone. It’s been an on again off again relationship with that thing since we left the speedway.
We stopped briefly back at her place so she could grab her red swimsuit. It winks at me through her mostly sheer cover up.
“Everyone.”
“Oh,” she says, more to her phone than to me. She gives the house another look like at any moment it might jump out and bite her. As soon as the look starts it vanishes. Nervous, are you now?
Can’t lie, I’d rather strip her naked in the car and go down her until she forgot the party. And more importantly, the phone. I can’t get the taste of her out of my head, and I’m convinced I need just one more to make sure I’ve memorized it.
“You okay with that?” We’ve all hung out together. She’s been to Jackson’s house before, but that was before we decided to fuck each other. “We don’t have to tell them,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual.
“Of course not,” she winces and backtracks. “I mean, the last time they just thought we were making out and look where it ended up. We don’t need that kind of hell.”
“That’s so not us.”
“Absolutely not.” We both smile at each other. The last thing I need is getting into commitment issues. This is too good to ruin with plans for the future. And that future includes me untying the laces of her bikini and making her scream my name at least twice. All I need is more, more, more.
“Let’s go before they catch us.”
She laughs, and I drink in every detail. The way her eyes sparkle with mischief and the small blond curls escape their rubber band and blow about her face. I want to pull out her ponytail, and run my fingers through the curls while I kiss my way down her neck, while I tug the ties of her bikini loose. But I have a feeling she may bite my fingers off. After the tense moments at the track, we’re back in the easy flow of us. No talk about the future or families. Just the two of us enjoying the here and now—just like we should.