34. Noah

It's beentwo weeks since Cat agreed to be my girlfriend in the middle of our make out session on the beach, and I'm legitimately the luckiest man in all of Florida. I have the girl, Dr. Stein signed off on me returning to work two whole weeks early, and my open world computer game is coming along so nicely, Jason—the lead developer—thinks we'll be ready to approach investors by September.

There was an anxiety attack nestled in the middle of all that when my parents led a Zoom meeting with me and my sisters to discuss who wants which property. It was nice of them to give us first dibs before putting everything on the market, but it's never fun being with them together. I got through it, and I'm still here. Still fine. Still growing and learning and adapting.

Everything is set for the launch party for our new Scoutr app. It hit phones early this morning and already has enough downloads to give my team a reason to let out a long, relieved sigh. When we first developed the software to fact-check information on the internet, it was heavy on my mind that utilizing it with a dating app was imperative. There are too many people lying on the internet, and both men and women deserve a little extra faith in knowing exactly who they're meeting up with after they match with someone online.

I'm just hopeful it works past the beta testing stage, but so far, so good. Because profiles get a gold rim around their profile picture with a little star after Scout has done its job and their info checks out, we made the whole launch party themed gold.

Mateo has outdone himself. The Belacourt Resort's dining room has been transformed, the tables and chairs pushed into different arrangements from the norm to promote mingling. Deep black tablecloths cover everything, making the candles flicker brightly, with gold table runners, plates, and some sort of golden fabric hanging from all the walls.

It feels like we're standing inside a jewelry display case—black velvet, bright gold jewelry, and stunning diamonds.

People mill about, but I can't keep my gaze from the door, watching for Cat. We'll have less traffic tonight than normal because the island is still recovering from a tropical storm we got a few days ago, but I've never minded an intimate party. Most of the people who matter already live on the island, and the rest made it across the bay safely. I nod to Tristan, standing on the other side of the room with his arm around Capri. He smiles before being pulled back into conversation with Holland and the guy who came with her. My gaze jumps to the door again, but Cat still isn't here.

I lift a wave to Otto behind the bar as he mixes a drink for Gina, and he nods back. He's working through the end of the summer because he likes the tips, but I wonder if there's another reason—I saw him flirting with Chef Gotier in the kitchen last week. She's a little brash, but if anyone could mellow her out, it would be Otto. Those Keenes are like happy little sunshine pills.

"You know," I say, coming to sit on a stool beside Gina. "I wondered if we'd make it to this day."

Gina takes the drink from Otto, and he moves on to the next person. She sips from the martini glass, raising her eyes to me. "I knew we'd make it. You have the Midas touch, Noah. Everything you touch turns to gold." She puts out an arm, indicating the decorations she had a hand in choosing.

"Nicely done."

"I'm serious. What are we doing next? A line of natural baby diapers? Producing music? Filming a pilot for the CW? Whatever you have up your sleeve, I am here for it."

I chuckle. She's being ridiculous, but the music producing idea isn't too bad. "Video games."

She waves it off. "I meant after that."

"Probably more games, if I'm being honest. I'm hopeful here, Gina. We can build that department."

"Might as well make it its own company, then."

She might be onto something. "Table the idea, but I want to circle back to it after the launch."

"You got it." Gina takes another sip of her drink.

I have her full attention, but I don't know how to vocalize how grateful I am for her. She kept the office together while I was trying to figure out myself. She stopped me from making foolish decisions, and she's level-headed. She could easily replace me as CEO while I take a less hands-on approach for Scout and Scoutr, giving me more time for Cat and the video game department. "Listen, I was wondering if we could meet sometime this week. I have a proposition for you."

She shakes out her short, blunt bob. "If it's more responsibility at the company, you know my answer already."

I bite back a smile. My instincts, as always, were right with Gina. "Does Tuesday work?"

She smiles. "Tuesday is fine."

"Enjoy tonight," I tell her. "You've earned it."

I meander closer to the door, watching for Cat and sipping my drink. Appetizers circulate on trays held by waiters in all black, but I stop by the table holding cocktail glasses of shrimp and plates of crab-stuffed mushrooms.

"Hey," Dash says, coming to my side and pulling a shrimp from a cocktail glass on the table. "You never sent me that updated game."

New York feels like months ago, it's hard to believe it was only a few weeks.

"I forgot." My cringe shifts to a smile. "You guys sticking around tonight? I have it ready to go on my computer at home."

"Olive wants a few days at the spa, so she booked one of those beachfront villas." His grin spreads. "You busy tomorrow?"

"Not anymore." I clink my glass to his and take a sip, my eyes on the door.

Perfect timing. Cat steps in, wearing a pale blue dress that brings out the color of her eyes. Her hair is arranged behind her head in a gentle chignon, and she's in the same shoes she wore in Manhattan. I put my glass down and cross to her, ignoring Dash's chuckle. I'm certain I hear him say "smitten" but I don't care because he's right.

And I don't have to try and hide it anymore.

Cat

The resort'sdining room looks completely transformed, but none of the gold or candlelight or famous party guests snag my attention. It is wholly on the man coming my way. He's in a black suit that is cut so fine and perfectly fitted, I can practically see the outline of his abs through the jacket.

Okay, not really. But I can picture those babies perfectly no matter what he wears. Tonight, he's sleek and suave and I'm sure—yep, there it is. A whiff of cologne. The man still smells like a dream.

A daydream, since this is real life and he's really pulling me in for a quick kiss.

Too quick, to be honest. His lips are warm on mine, molten and sensual, then they're gone again and his smile is beaming down at me.

"Good evening, Mr. Pennybags."

"Mister?" he says, eyes twinkling in amusement. "I've been upgraded."

"He's always been a mister. I was just more informal before now."

"You're going to tell me who he is, right?"

"Who, Millburn?" I stare at him, having trouble focusing while his fingertips graze my arm, never stopping in one place, sending shivers all over. "You haven't Googled it yet?"

His fingers grow still. "I didn't think of it."

A laugh escapes my gut, louder than ladylike, but Noah doesn't seem bothered by it. "Millburn Pennybags is the Monopoly man."

He blinks at me. "How did you know that?"

"I googled rich men and he popped up."

It's Noah's turn to laugh. "You mean you went out of your way to find names to tease me with?"

"It was fun." My grin spreads now. "You're easy to tease. My favorites were the ones that got a reaction though, so that's what I was looking for."

He leans forward and kisses me again. "It worked."

I glance around the room until my gaze rests behind the bar. "I should go say hi to Otto."

"Okay. I'll mingle for a bit."

Noah squeezes my hand as I walk away from him and approach the bar. Otto is mixing a drink for someone else but lifts his eyebrow to me. "Club soda with lime?" he asks.

"I'm that predictable?"

"Yes."

"Make it an Old Fashioned. No rocks."

Otto lifts both eyebrows. "Since when did you start drinking bourbon?"

"Never. I want my limey water, and I don't want to be judged for it."

He chuckles, shaking his head. After serving another couple down the bar, he brings me my drink.

I smile at him. "I heard you still haven't put in your two weeks' notice. Aren't you and Hank meeting up with Phil soon for that fishing trip? Or surfing trip? What did y'all settle on, anyway?"

"Both. That's what time off is for."

"You like working here."

He doesn't answer, just smiles at me.

I nod, accepting this new fact about him. "Okay. That's cool."

"We can talk about this at home," he says, "but I've been thinking about other ways we can improve things at the BB."

Otto's been thinking of improvements. This ought to be interesting. "Like what?"

He leans forward, his hands bracing the counter. "Hiring high school kids. That's how you got your start, Kit Kat. We could bring in a few kids to manage the turnovers, handle the gardening. It's called outsourcing."

"What would we do, then?"

Otto stares at me for a few beats. "I just wondered if we should be thinking ahead. Ways to keep the BB running even if we aren't both there."

There's a niggling of something weird down in my stomach telling me change is on the horizon. Otto has talked for years about taking off with his buddies, following the waves and the fishing. I don't think he'd leave forever, especially if he's having fun bartending here—and let's be honest, he'd miss me too much—but it won't be just me and Otto against the world anymore.

It'll be me and Otto and Noah and our whole network of friends and family, which is good too, in a different way.

"We both know how long you've been dying to start a family," he says softly. "The BB can stay alive without you in the building, you know."

"Otto," I hiss, turning to make sure Noah isn't listening. "We've only been dating for like two weeks."

His smile is warm, his eyes crinkling. "I'm just thinking of the future. If you train the maids now while you're living at home, it'll make things easier for you someday when you move out."

A little premature? Maybe. Then I catch Noah's gaze across the room and my stomach squirms with the need to be over there and in his arms, and I think, or maybe not.