Love At First Taste (Love Comes First 3)
We all drop our eyes as silence fills the room. Mr. Brown was our biggest client who invested nine figures with us. He was a very conservative man and we almost lost his business twice. Once when he caught Nolan nailing his pretend date on an antique car, and the second time was when he caught Eli and Carrie going at it on the seventeenth hole of a golf course during his charity tournament. It’s a good thing we have the best returns around or he would never have let us keep his business.
“His son Gabriel has taken over the company,” Westin continues. “He has a sister named Victoria who is going to be half-owner, but she won’t be running it at this time.”
“Let’s hope Gabriel is half as good at business as his old man,” Nolan says with a sigh. “Or, it could put a big dent in our paychecks.”
“Exactly,” Westin says. “We have to keep a close eye on him. Which brings me to my next topic. He’s getting married and he’s invited us to his bachelor party. On a yacht. In the Caribbean.”
Nolan is already shaking his head. “Arya is going to kill me if I leave her with a newborn so I can go party on a yacht. Hard no for me.”
“Me too,” Eli says. “I’m not leaving my pregnant wife to watch a bunch of strippers shake their asses. Not going to happen.”
“Only one of us has to go,” Nolan says as he scratches his head with his pen. “That person can represent all of us.”
Brooke laughs as she watches me and Westin stare each other down.
“Who is it going to be?” she says in a voice that sounds like she’s narrating a nature documentary. “Luke, the man who is the size of a gorilla with the heart of a teddy bear, or Westin, the cold-calculating workaholic who prefers numbers to human connection? Let’s standby and watch these two alpha males battle it out.”
“Not it!” we both shout at the same time.
“We can’t pick Luke,” Eli says with a shake of his head.
Westin frowns. “Why not?”
“Do you know how many pools are in the Caribbean?”
“So?”
“So? Luke pees in pools.”
Nolan and Brooke laugh as I throw my arms in the air. “One time! I was seven years old for fuck’s sake. When are you going to get over that?”
Eli turns to me with a serious face. “I swam in your urine, Luke. Never.”
“We can’t send Westin either,” Nolan interrupts. “He’ll probably spend the whole bachelor party giving tax advice to the stripper.”
“That’s true,” Brooke says with a giggle. “Did you know they can write off underwear and glitter?”
“Fine,” I say with a frustrated huff of breath. “I’ll go. I need to get out of this city for a bit anyway. But I’m taking the jet.”
“You’re not taking the jet!” Westin snaps.
“Fine, then I’m not going.”
Westin frowns. “Fine. Take the jet.”
“Just don’t pee in any pools,” Eli says as he turns to me with a frown. “Or Cline Corp will get a bad review on Yelp and it will be all your fault.”
“Are we all done with the food?” I ask as I look around the table. “Can I beat his ass now?”
They all nod, so I jump on him.Chapter TwoLukeOur company jet touches down in Miami and I take a limo to the docks. Gabriel’s best man chartered a yacht for four days. We’re boarding here and then heading to Nassau in the Bahamas for the first stop.
I don’t know any of these guys, so I don’t know what to expect. I’m really hoping it’s not a glorified fishing boat where we all have to take turns sleeping on the same hard bed.
“Sir,” the limo driver says as the window between us rolls down. “We have arrived at the destination.”
“Holy. Shit,” I whisper as I stare out the window in awe. It’s not just Gabriel who’s loaded. His friends have money too. A lot of money.
I gulp as I step out of the limo and look up at the largest yacht I’ve ever seen. Picture a luxurious yacht in a hip hop video, well, this yacht would eat that one for breakfast.
“I got it, man,” I say to the driver as I take my bag from him. I stuff a hundred-dollar bill into his front pocket and head over to where a bunch of guys are sitting on the hood of a Lamborghini that only comes out next year but somehow, they have one. They’re chugging special edition Dom Pérignon, which costs about ten grand a bottle.
“Luke!” Gabriel shouts as he approaches with open arms. He’s dressed up nicely with an open-collared shirt, white pants, and designer sunglasses on top of his slicked-back dark hair. He gives me a quick hug and wraps his arm over my shoulder as he brings me over to the guys. They all look preppy and rich. The kind of guys me and my brothers would have been more likely to fight than hang around with in our youth.