“Oh, really?” I teased. “We’re independently wealthy now, are we, Goodman?”
“Kinda.” He shrugged casually as he spooned the sweet mixture onto his bread. “Not like I could buy my own rocket and pretend to be an astronaut, you know? But I can get by.”
He stuck the spoon in his mouth and licked it clean so thoroughly and distractingly it took me a second to realize what he said.
“Wait. I thought you said you didn’t have a lot growing up.”
“True. But our circumstances changed a year or so ago.”
I blinked, then blinked some more. “Like you won the lottery or something?”
“Something,” he agreed.
New Gage did not volunteer information, and I fucking hated it.
“So are you saying you can afford to invest in tiny projects here and there, or?—”
“Could I be sitting on a beach somewhere and never work again?” he asked in a hard voice. “Theoretically, yes, assuming a good rate of return. But I have goals, and—” He broke off with a head shake. “I really hate when people suggest that I shouldn’t be motivated to do something just because I have money in the bank. Is money the only reason a person works? How much money doyouhave in the bank? Should we talk aboutyourmotivations?”
Touché.“You’re right. Of course you are. I just thought…”
I’d thought that he wouldn’t understand that. That someone so young and sunshiny couldn’t also be serious and goal oriented.
When was I going to stop underestimating him?
Gage folded his toast in half and shoved the piece in his mouth, a signal that the conversation was over, at least for now. “Wonder what Drew’s making for breakfast,” he asked around the mouthful.
I stifled a smile and shook my head. He and I had discussed his consumption of “Breakfast Appetizers” several times before, and he knew my thoughts. Just like I knew better than to get him started on the supplementary meals he referred to as Breakfast Dessert, Lunch Dessert, Dinner Dessert, and Second Dinner Dessert.
My cell buzzed on the counter, and I grabbed it. “Probably eggs and bacon. It’s Satur—oh.Hmm.” I read the text through twice. “Interesting.”
“What is?”
“You remember me mentioning my friend Myles?”
He swallowed his toast with a gulp. “Your fuck buddy.”
“My friend with occasional benefits. He’s having a party tonight at his apartment in the city, and I’m invited.” I glanced up. “He wants you to come along.”
“Me.” Gage wrinkled his nose. “Me?”
I shot him a look that saidnot this repeating thing again, and he rolled his eyes.
“How does he even know I exist?”
“Because I mentioned you the night I saw him.” I’d had a couple of drinks myself that night—though not nearly as much as Goodman—and I vaguely remembered mentioning Gage’s name kind of alot.
An embarrassing amount, really.
“You did? What did you say?”
I shrugged casually. “That you were creating an awesome integrated app for Sunday Orchard. That you were looking for a job with a lot of upward mobility and interesting projects you could sink your teeth into.” I was pretty sure I’d also usedthe wordsrelentlessly sexyandinfuriatingly adorableandso fucking young. “His company has some job openings, and our other friend Jason is doing the hiring. Jason’s going to be at the party tonight, too, so this would be a great opportunity for you to network.”
Gage frowned. “But… they haven’t seen my resume or anything. How will they know I’m qualified?”
“Jobs are more about who you know than what you know, Goodman. Ask anyone.”
“Hmm.” He took another huge bite of toast, unconvinced.
