Page 42 of Book Boyfriends
“The rest of your family isn’t supportive?”
“My mom and Jackson areish”—I make air quotes with my fingers—“but they worry that I’m making too much of a financial investment. Hope is one hundred percent Team Georgia, thanks to the beauty of a two-decade-plus long friendship. Rem…not-so-much. He thinks I’m wasting my time and money.”
Something unspools inside me with the laying of all my truths on the table. Hope hears some of this, but I try to pick andchoose how often I complain about my brother, AKA the love of her life. It’s a delicate dance between us at times.
“But you love it.”
Smiling, I nod. “I always have. With my health issues and the turmoil between my parents, I lost myself in stories, especially those with happy endings. When I was home sick, I’d scribble stories in notebooks where dad became a famous artist and it smoothed over the issues between him and my mom, or about me finding a magical flower that cured whatever made me sick all the time.”
“Focusing on things turning out made it all more bearable for you.”
“Yeah.” Cringing, I close my eyes. “God, I sound like such an indulgent ninny compared to everything you went through.”
“Peach…” His fingers swipe along my jawline, causing my eyes to open and meet his stare. His other hand remains wrapped tightly around mine.
Every bit of his large frame holds me in an intimate little bubble. The heat of his body. The caress of his gaze locked with mine. The sensation of his touch on my skin.
“Suffering is suffering. You were sick and, at the time, you didn’t know why. That’s scary enough, but then adding your parents’ instability, it’s a lot. It’s not indulgent to want everything to turn out.”
“Thank you,” I say, my breath catching.
“You’re welcome.” His hand caresses my cheek before dropping to his lap. “Can we talk about your use of the word ninny?”
Head tipped back, a loud chortle belts out of me. “I didn’t.”
“That you did.”
I point at him. “Before we discuss my use of the word ninny, which you’ll find is an excellent word after you readThe Duke’s Darling, you still need to explain how you turned out to be theapp designer for GF Finder. I thought you were a business guy like Jackson.”
He lifts one eyebrow. “What do you think No Boundaries is?”
“Isn’t it some sort of hedge fund or something equally finance bro-ey,” I tease.
“Finance bro-ey?” His forehead scrunches. “Now who’s judgy?”
Turns out I am. Much of Jackson’s early career out of business school was with tech companies that all had a financial slant. Cash apps or banking software companies, so I assumed No Boundaries is just like the rest.
“You design apps for the disabled and chronically ill?” I’m sure my expression teeters between impressed and bewildered.
Turns out Davis isn’t a finance bro, but a tech genius. At twenty-four, he designed a verification app heavily used in banking. Using the earnings from that, and a few others he designed that are widely used within the financial world, he created GF Finder and then a social media-like app to help individuals with autism connect with resources and socializing opportunities.
“No Boundaries creates apps that help the disabled and chronically ill live full lives. Between the money I’ve invested and several other investors, we’re able to focus on that mission,” he explains.
“I had no idea.”
He tilts his head. “Jackson didn’t tell you?”
“Nope. Frankly, I’m shocked he didn’t use it to crown himself King Do-Gooder. He’s not known for his discretion.”
“That he isn’t.” His chuckle is warm. “For months, he’s been going on and on about the sister I need to meet. What are the odds she turns out to be the famous Peach my grandparents have gone on and on about for the last few years?”
“What are the odds?” I hum, my fingers gliding over his hand, which remained joined with mine.
Itshouldbe awkward to just sit here holding this man’s hand. What is this? A second chance for a first date? Just a grandson doing what his grandma asked? Whatever was happening here, emotions stretch inside me like an intense game of tug-of-war. The rope pulls me between melting into whatever is happening with Davis and the three men currently corralled by my brother. The men I’m supposed to date.
You’re a mess, Georgia.I bite the inside of my cheek, hoping the pain yanks me out of the spell I’m under with Davis.
“Two grilled cheeses, an order of steak fries, and two sides of ketchup,” the bartender announces as he places our food on the bar in front of us.
