Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 381(@200wpm)___ 305(@250wpm)___ 254(@300wpm)
“Actually, sometimes a drink really does help with this game,” Jarod Lanham said from behind the wheel of the golf cart he was sharing with Matt. “Gets you out of your head a bit.”
“I don’t think Kennedy’s ever been out of his head in his life,” Matt said.
“Sure he has. He’s had sex, right?”
“Even then, I’m not so sure if he really loses himself,” Ian said. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there were diagrams in his nightstand with all of the various erogenous zones labeled.”
“You fools realize I can hear you, right?” Kennedy asked.
Kennedy had gladly accepted the invitation to join his friends and Jarod for a golf getaway in Florida for the weekend. He’d have said yes regardless, but even having grown up around money, he couldn’t deny that Jarod Lanham bumped the definition of luxury up to a whole other level.
For starters, the man was a billionaire with a capital B. Kennedy knew plenty of seven- and eight-figure guys. But meeting an eleven-figure guy face-to-face was rare, even on Wall Street. Even more impressive, Jarod wasn’t some old fossil who’d amassed his fortune over the course of seven decades. At thirty-eight, he was only two years older than Kennedy. It would be annoying, if Kennedy didn’t like the guy. Which he did.
Despite the private jet, the elite golf membership, and God knew how many private villas he had in about eight countries, the man was surprisingly down-to-earth.
Jarod also was an exceptional golfer, and yesterday, Kennedy’s game had been on point. He’d beaten Matt and Ian and come within a respectable four shots of Jarod. Today was a different story.
“Stupid sport,” Kennedy muttered.
“That it is,” Jarod said, taking a sip of the expensive bottled water from the cart. “One day you’re on top of your game, then one little thing gets out of alignment, and it all goes to hell.”
“Is it your back, old man?” asked Matt, who, at twenty-nine, liked to pretend he had the youthful vigor of a college kid while the rest of them hobbled around on walkers.
“Oh, the body’s rarely the problem,” Jarod told Matt. He tapped his temple. “It’s up here. A work stress gets in your head, a woman . . .” He spread his fingers wide and made a bomb noise.
Kennedy rolled his eyes and walked around to the back of the cart he and Ian were sharing, dropping his club into his bag. “Whose shot?”
“Mine,” Ian said, pointing at a ball fifty or so yards up on the fairway. Then he looked back. “No rush, though. No one’s behind us. Plenty of time.”
“Absolutely. We’ve got all day to discuss what’s got you flubbing every other shot,” Jarod agreed, grinning at Kennedy.
“Could be that you guys won’t shut up,” Kennedy supplied.
“Could be that Avetna crashed on Friday,” Matt suggested.
“Nah, we’d all be screwed on that one,” Ian said, referring to the stock that had plummeted unexpectedly a few days earlier, causing a mini shock wave on the NYSE floor.
“So a woman, then,” Jarod said to Kennedy. “I hear your woman had an ice sculpture made in your likeness for your birthday party. Sorry I was out of town and missed it.”
“It was extremely majestic,” Matt said.
“That’s what’s on your mind, Dawson? PTSD from your party?” Ian asked.
“I don’t have anything on my mind!” Kennedy looked around. He really needed that drink cart.
“Not even the fact that your brother and our assistant are dating?”
Kennedy’s gaze swung back around to Matt, who was innocently studying a tee. “They’re not dating.”
“Not what I heard,” Ian said.
Jarod pretended to settle into the leather seat of the golf cart. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“What did you hear?” Kennedy said, laser-focused on Ian.
Ian’s light-blue eyes flicked to Matt before coming back to Kennedy. “Just that Jack and Kate went out to dinner last week. Twice.”
“Lara told you that?”
“Kate did.”
Kennedy felt a surge of frustration that Kate had mentioned to Ian she was going out with Jack, but not him. Though, Kennedy had suspected what was going on. After the party, Jack had asked him for her number, and as Kate had requested, Kennedy had handed it over. Reluctantly.
He’d reminded himself that it wasn’t his business who Kate dated. Jack may have been the bane of his existence when they were teens, but they were close now. He was a good guy. A serial dater, sure, but no more than Kennedy or any of the other guys used to be.
“You guys get in a fight?” Matt asked.
“My brother and I are fine.”
“Not you and Jack, you and Kate. You two have been more impatient with each other than usual the past week.”
“Ever since you disappeared together at your party,” Ian added.
“We didn’t disappear. We just went to play chess. It wasn’t a big deal.”
“You’ve never asked me to play chess,” Matt said.