was great until it wasn’t. Great for conversation, not always so great for the actual sex it led to.
Work, however, was simple. Work was good. Work was where I excelled.
Jefferson Killen, my sixty-nine-year-old boss, didn’t give a fuck about my social skills or the size of my cock. As the owner of a multi-billion-dollar cosmetics company, the only thing he cared about was whether I was effective as his right-hand man. And I was.
A driver was waiting to take me to the private airfield I’d be departing from, but I didn’t let him get my door. Grinning as I let the handle descend back into my bag, I picked it up and slid it into the back with me after getting the door myself.
“Morning, John,” I said. “Do you think we could hit a drive-thru on the way? I’m starving.”
A knowing look entered his eyes and he nodded. “Sure, but we’ll have to make it quick. Mr. Killen is already en route to Austin. Wasn’t there breakfast included in your suite here?”
“There was, but I didn’t get around to enjoying it,” I said. “I was too busy enjoying some other local treats. How about you?”
“I’ve already had breakfast,” he said primly, not elaborating about whether his breakfast had been food or a different kind of local treat.
Then again, John was probably a lot better than I was at separating business from pleasure. He was one of the drivers who often accompanied us when we left our home base in New York City, and I’d never seen him letting his hair down even an inch.
Not that he had any hair left on his head to let down, but he didn’t seem to in the metaphorical sense either. As he lowered himself into the driver’s seat, he raised the privacy partition between us and left me to pull my laptop out of my bag.
On our way to the airfield and then later on the flight, I responded to emails and finished my admin for the day. I was looking over a new marketing campaign when Jefferson called. The man was bald, had a white goatee, and always wore a suit. He could come off as very cold and formal, but I’d learned better. He was just stuck in his old-school ways.
“Dane,” he said when I answered. “I’m told you’ve left Oklahoma. Where are we on the auditions for the face of my next line there?”
“I sent you the shortlist of candidates I whittled it down to,” I said. “I’ll tell you all about the rest of it later, but I’m not sure I’ve found her. Have you given any thought to where you want to have lunch later?”
“You haven’t found her, at least not from what I’ve seen in the stuff you sent me, but I know where we’re having lunch,” he said decisively. “There’s a steakhouse chain down in Texas that I love. I’ve heard they have one in this town we’re going to. We’ll go there.”
“A chain?” I took a breath. “How about we support a local, small business instead? My buddy has a restaurant there. I can guarantee his steaks will be at least as good as this chain’s.”
He let out a heavy sigh but eventually agreed. Begrudgingly. “Fine, we’ll go to your friend’s restaurant, but only because it’s you asking.”
“Thank you,” I said, a grin spreading on my lips when I thought about how surprised Rick was going to be to see me.
I hadn’t been back in my hometown for more than ten years, but Rick and I had kept in touch. He’d been out to visit me a few times and we’d met up in random places over the years for weekends away, but I hadn’t told him I’d be coming.
I’d wanted it to be a complete surprise for my best friend. Former best friend. We were still good friends, though. Even if we didn’t see each other every day anymore.
Rick was that one friend who always made me feel like I’d only just seen him last week. Whenever we were together, everything was the way it used to be. In that way, I supposed he’d always be my best friend.
The wide receiver to my quarterback. The brother I’d never had. The guy who used to let me stay with him all the time because my parents just weren’t really interested in their one and only kid.
A sense of nostalgia hit me like a freight train when John drove me into town about thirty minutes after we’d