Page 43 of Can't Get Enough

“Like most sons of pro ballers I thought I could dribble in my father’s footsteps,” I say, mocking myself. “My mom stole some inches from me, her short self.”

“She was petite?”

“Yeah, man. Like five four. My dad’s six six.”

“And you’re what? Six feet?”

“Six two.”

“You got me by a few inches.”

“Not tonight in those shoes.” I let my eyes slide down her body, suppressing the urge to linger on her breasts and everything on the way to her feet. “In those, we’re about the same height.”

By the time my gaze finds hers again, her eyes are narrowed on me. Not necessarily suspicious. Cautious. She should be. Under normal circumstances, I’d make a play. Take a chance. Ask her out because the pull between us is evident, and if I’m being honest, has been since I sat down beside her at my party. But these aren’t normal circumstances. Since she’s doing this show with Zere, I’m not sure they ever will be.

“So you defer college to work with your dad for a bit,” she says. “And then go to Caltech, knock up your STEM girlfriend, she gives you an app and a baby, and a happily ever after?”

“Not quite. We were both happy with the app and the baby, just not with each other for ever after. As friends, yeah. She didn’t want to run a business. She wanted to teach and to cash a nice fat check each month, so she sold her controlling interest to me. Still owned a little piece, but not enough to carry much responsibility.”

“And you made a ton of money off gambling?”

“You judging?”

“No, admiring. I’ve never been into chance, in real life or virtually. I’m more of a calculated risk kind of girl.”

“I calculate to a certain point. If my gut points me in a different direction than my calculations, I’ll usually choose my gut.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought that about you.”

“I’ve never been afraid to risk or lose it all. I can always rebuild. I’ve had to sometimes. Not bankrupt, but damn close. So close I thought I’d lose everything.”

“What saved you?”

“Some investments no one thought I should make.” I laugh at thesurprise on her face. “No, really. Literally everyone on my team at the time advised me not to invest in this.”

“What was it?”

“Weed.” I say it with a straight face, but can’t hold my laugh back when her mouth drops open. “Your expression right now.”

I reach one finger under her chin to gently push her jaw closed. There’s a sizzle where our skin meets, and it burns through the thin skin of my fingertip. She slowly tilts her head until my touch falls away. The amusement drains from her striking features at the same time the smile fades from mine.

“Ahem.” She licks her lips, glances down at her shoes, and resumes the conversation, her voice a shade huskier. “Weed, huh?”

“Medical marijuana, yeah. Though now with so many states legalizing it, I’ve invested in quite a few farms focused on recreational production.”

“And that saved you?”

“I mean, I wasn’t gonna be living on the streets, but it kept me very wealthy, and made me more so.”

“Now you’ve sold the app and made billionaire status.”

“To misquote, reports of my wealth have been greatly exaggerated.”

“Oh, so you’re not the next Black billionaire?”

“Maybe next, but not quite yet. I should be soon. It’s been a goal of mine for a really long time.”

“Since when?”

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