The Billionaire Book Club

Me: NO WAY!

Kevin: Yes way.

I shake my head as I type.

Me: No. That’s not possible. It’s definitely some kind of work function. Not a date. Plus, this guy gets more ass than a donkey farmer. No way he’d ever be nervous about asking me out—or sleeping with me, for that matter.

Kevin: Are there really donkey farmers? Like, is that a thing?

A scowl settles onto my face. Does he really think this is an appropriate time for joking? After dropping that bomb?

Me: I hate you so much right now.

Kevin: Look, I’d bet my money on it’s the whole picturing you naked thing.

Me: Why? Why are you so sure?

Kevin: Because I’ve pictured you naked before, and that’s about how it felt.

Me: YOU WHAT?

I feel faint. Christ almighty, did my best friend really just say he’s pictured me naked?

Kevin: Come on, Gem. You’re a beautiful girl. Seriously. You have to know that. Of course, once I got to know what a pain in the ass you are and met Julie, I stopped. But in the beginning, I pictured you naked all the time.

Me: This has taken a disturbing turn. I don’t even know what to say now.

Kevin: It’s been years, so you can relax. Even if Julie weren’t in the picture, I’d have no desire to have a relationship with you.

Oh wow. Thanks, Kev. That really makes everything better.

Me: Right. Excellent. I feel really good now.

Kevin: You’re just…stubborn. And you like to bust guys’ balls.

Me: I do not!

Kevin: Gem. Be real. Why do you think all of your past relationships haven’t worked out?

Me: Because I wasn’t with the right person.

Kevin: That’s true. But you don’t give anyone a chance. You make snap judgments, and you maintain them. Honestly, I’ve never seen someone who can hold a grudge or an opinion longer than you. But, hey, it’ll make you a great lawyer.

I sigh. Heavily. Why is he my best friend again?

Me: Great. I can look forward to being a terrific lawyer and shitty human being. Lovely. Thank you for being such a good friend and telling me all of these wonderful things about myself. Really great pep talk, Kev.

Kevin: Don’t be so dramatic. You and I both know that a good friend actually tells you the real shit. Not the sugarcoated shit. Plus, now that you know, maybe you can change, right?

I blow out an amused breath from my now-pursed lips.

Me: I guess.

Kevin: Just take life as it comes for once, okay? Don’t fight everything so hard. You might be surprised where you end up.

Take things as they come. I can do that.

Definitely.

Totally.

I frown.

Maybe.

I guess I better get with the program pretty quickly. Because whether I’m ready or not, the party on Saturday is happening, and I’ve promised to be there.

Caplin Hawkins’s plus one.

Fuck me.

Ruby

I scroll back through my emails to the details Cap gave me and double-check everything one more time.

St. Windsor Estate, 6 p.m., come in clothes that are comfortable.

I look down at my yoga pants and hoodie, and then back up at the scrolling ivy on the 150-year-old mansion one more time.

I don’t know what kind of sick, twisted thing this is that I was supposed to come comfortable to a multimillion-dollar place, but nerves are officially making a home in my belly.

Lacking any other specific instructions, I knock on the front door and then tuck my hands into the front pocket of my hoodie.

I feel like I’m about to be voted off the island for poor fashion sense, but I’ve never skipped out on a work engagement before, and I’m not about to start now.

It’s not likely I’ll know anyone here anyway, and everyone knows that embarrassment in front of people you don’t know is finite.

It’s the embarrassing things that happen with friends and family that last a lifetime.

I listen intently for signs that someone on the other side of the door is coming to answer it, but I don’t hear anything.

I take one hand out of my hoodie and raise it to knock again, when the door opens unexpectedly.

In a pair of dark-wash jeans and a flannel button-down shirt, Cap looks completely different from how I’ve ever seen him. His light-brown eyes shine so brightly, they look like hard caramel candy, and his hair is combed into its normal neat style, but the rest of him is so…casual.

“Ruby,” he says, his face lighting up from the corners of his mouth to the corners of his eyes. “You made it.”

My already-nervous stomach flips over, and I put the hand in my pocket flat to it in a sad attempt to make it settle down.

“I did. I’m feeling like I’m really out of place, but I’m here.” I glance up and down at his outfit again before remarking, “Though, I am feeling a little better now that I see you.”

“People usually feel better when they see me,” he says smugly, and I can’t help but smile.