Page 68 of Gin and Lava

Nothing about our fake wedding has been planned, because it’s all too new. And we didn’t want to steal any of Shauri and Rick’s thunder (even though we secretly do).

Memorize this. Then, burn this.

Affectionately**** yours,

Your Fake Fiancée, Naomi

****P.S. Affectionately means I want to bounce on your big, beautiful, monster cock ASAP. *eggplant emoji*

20

MASON

“That is an awful idea!” Ned growls.

I just told the Voss brothers about the fake-fiancé situation, and how I’m meeting all of Shauri’s wedding friends this evening—including the ex-boyfriend, Sam. Only, Ned is growling in retaliation, acting like a disgruntled General Kael, from the 80s masterpieceWillow. Ned grabs his surfboard and stalks toward the ocean without another word, making me turn to Connor for support. But Voss brother number two just shrugs, tucking his board under his arm as he follows Ned into the water.

“Really?” I race after them. “Both of you are going to give me shit for this?”

We dive into the water and start out toward the horizon. It’s late afternoon on the North Shore. We’re at Ehukai Beach, which is known for its massive winter-time waves and surfing competitions. I’m glad it’s summer when the water is calmer. I can surf, I’m no junkyard dog, but I’m not going to risk my life for some competition-worthy barrel ride that’s going to break my neck on the way down. Of course, this is the only beach Ned will surf. It’s his hard-headed need to win—not that he actually competes. He just wants to feel like he can keep up with the elite.

“You like Naomi too much,” Ned says when I paddle up next to them.

“This isn’t a romantic relationship,” I point out. “It’s a harmless make-your-ex-jealous situation. And it comes with some pretty hot fun on the side.”

“I don’t like the fuck-buddy part either,” Ned replies.

I turn to his brother for help. “Connor, you understand the pleasures of hooking-up without strings attached. Can you please explain this to your bone-head brother who’s never enjoyed the twenty-first century’s mountain of plenty?”

“It works if you both know where the other stands,” Connor says, noncommittally.

“That was pathetic,” I scold, sitting up on my board to float. “Where’s your law-school-worthy speech on the virtues of fucking around?”

Connor gives me a dashing smile. “We’re both in stable relationships now,” Connor points out, absolutely gloating. “There’s a whole other side to your mountain of plenty that you’ve yet to learn about.”

“Thank you for rubbing that in my face,” I grumble. “I get the golden ticket to Naomi pussy and you’re telling me it’s still spit at the bottom of the barrel?”

“Because you like her too much,” Ned repeats. “It’s going to end. That’s the arrangement, right?” I nod. “Okay, so when it does,” Ned continues, “you’re not going to end up with the golden idol. You’re going to be squashed by the huge bolder of love.”

“I’m not Indiana Jones, and I’m not talking about love.” I roll my eyes. “I know you just got married, Edwin”—I use his full name for emphasis—“but some of us can fuck without emotions involved.”

“Look at it this way,” Connor butts in. “If Naomi asked you to be heractualboyfriend, what would you say?”

“Uh …” I fake pause, putting a hand to my chin and pretending to think about it. “I’d say,Open your legs girlfriend and let me lick your delicious girlfriend pussy.” I make a V with my fingers and demonstrate.

“Right,” Connor confirms. “Because you actuallywantto be in a relationship with her.”

“You’re saying I should give up exclusive Naomi pussy?” I counter.

“He’s saying if you like the girl as much as you do,” Ned interjects, swimming ahead of us so I can barely hear him, “and you start sleeping with her regularly—with or without the girlfriend label—you’re going to develop feelings. And the whole fake-fiancé thing adds another level of complexity, which frankly, isn’t your strong suit, Mason.”

I glower at him. “Because I have a tiki bar and not a law degree?”

“No,” Ned counters. “Because you think with your dick, and you talk with your dick, and you name every drink in your tiki bar after your dick.”

“So, I’m a dick?” I say dryly.

“Normally, you’d take that as a compliment,” Connor points out. Which is true. I usually accept my dick-ish-ness with true dick-ish flair. I like turning the insult into a badge of honor.

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