Page 13 of Billionaire Romantic
I zoom in a little further.She’s fucking gorgeous.You can tell she’s both sweet and sassy just by looking at her. She’s curvy and has a quirky style, reminding me of one of those fifties pin-up girls with a modern twist.
She’s absolutely flawless, is what she is.
Colton is highly amused by the way I’m staring. “All you have to do is click confirm. Then if she also clicks, it’s a date.”
“She hasn’t confirmed yet?”
“Not yet. But the algorithm only made the match around ten minutes ago. Give her time. Cleo and Sloane chose the photo and they both said you look hot.”
“Which photo?” I ask, hating myself for suddenly caring about my profile on this ridiculous app.
“That one of you on your deck at the Hamptons house. Cleo and Sloane said you look normal and approachable.”
“Approachable?” I cringe, still staring at Lucky Irish’s picture.
“Yes. You don’t look like a lunatic, in other words.”
“Oh.” I’m too distracted by the photo to reply further.
“At this stage, both of you have only given non-identifying information. But we do know she’s lived in New York her whole life and she works doing something in finance.”
“She doesn’t look old enough to be in finance.”
“She’s probably having the same doubts you’re having, Noah. She’ll be just as surprised as you that she’s found someone who’s compatible with her. So, what do you say?” His eyes lock onto mine, the humor fading into something that could almost pass for concern.
I hesitate, flicking my gaze from Cole back to Lucky Irish.
“You might as well meet her,” he says.“Lookat her. She’s fucking gorgeous.”
I frown and I can’t name the emotion that’s suddenly coursing through my veins.He can see that too?Of course he can. Is this suddenly feverish pull…jealousy?
“Can I have my phone back now?” he grins.
“No.” I’m not done staring at her.
“So,” Colton says, almost gently. “You like what you see. All you have to do is click to confirm and you can meet her tomorrow night. You’ve got nothing to lose, bro. Justdoit.”
Unfortunately, he’s right. Idon’thave anything to lose. Tumbleweeds are currently rolling through the deserted wasteland of my romantic life. I also, I remind myself, this very morning, made the decision to give up on finding love and work instead on getting fucking laid.
This girl who’s smiling beatifically at me in all her sun-lit glory could in fact be the answer to all my disillusioned prayers. The fact that I’m practically hard from one glance at a total stranger in a slightly out-of-focus photo on a tiny screen confirms that my dry spell has sent me spiraling into the outer orbits of severe sexual frustration. Something needs to be done about it.
“Live a little,” comes my brother’s relentless encouragement. Which at this point I might even be grateful for. He brought me Lucky Irish. “We all know you’re the steady one. The reliable one. The one who keeps everyone grounded and always has our backs. Well, this time I’ve got your back. The app is legit, the girl is real and you’ve got no plans tomorrow night. Cleo already checked your calendar. I’ve got a good feeling about this one, man. I want you to find what I have.”
I look up at him, a little shocked by the genuine emotion coming from my playboy-turned-smitten brother. “Wow, Cole. That was?—”
“Deep?” he interrupts, the smile returning to his face. “Yeah, Lila says I have layers. Like a sexy onion. So, are we booking this date or what?”
I glance back at Lucky’s profile and then back at Cole. His eyes are still filled with that new light—love—that has changed him for the better. The kind of love I’ve never experienced. It’s the kind of glowIwant to feel. Just once.
“All right,” I say, punching the confirm button. “Let's see if Noah Steel has better luck than Noah Maddox.”
7
I wakeup feeling groggy after a fitful sleep. Checking my phone, it’s 7:02 a.m.
My dreams were awful. Spreadsheets bleeding real blood. Me, a lost little orphan like something out of a Dickens novel, begging on the streets and peering into derelict buildings to find shelter from the rain.
I get up and make myself a cup of coffee, willing the nightmares to fade out, which they mercifully start to do. I take the coffee out to my balcony. Grace is still asleep.
