Page 76

“My parents.” I mock shiver like I’m disgusted. “They’re…kind of awful.”

“As awful as I am?” He arches a brow, as sexy as ever.

“You’re awful in a different way.” In a,I want to rub myself all over his body, sort of way. Not that I’d say that out loud. “My father had a startup business that took off and they made a bunch of money in a short amount of time. Then he sold it and made even more money and now they just spend it on the tackiest stuff ever and do all the things that they think they should be doing, but really? They just look like they’re trying too hard and it’s embarrassing.”

“What kind of startup?”

Oh, he would ask that. And that makes this conversation even more embarrassing.

“Um, it involved…athletic gear.” I press my lips together, not wanting to go any further, but I can tell from the look on August’s face he wants to know more.

“Athletic gear? I’m not into sports by any means, but what exactly are you referring to?”

“Well, it’s not actually gear. It was an—anti-itch cream. For the—” I gesture toward his lap. “—area.”

Realization dawns all over his gorgeous face. “Wait a minute. You’re not talking about Jock Rot, are you?”

I cover my face with my hands, hating that my parents made their fortune on something called Jock Rot. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.” He snickers, reaching toward me and slowly peeling one of my hands away from my face. My cheeks are as hot as an oven, I’m so embarrassed. “Your dad is the guy who invented Jock Rot. I can’t believe it.”

Ignoring his snarky tone, I give him the condensed version of how Jock Rot came to be. “I have a much older brother who played a lot of sports and was always sweaty. And while there are plenty of products on the market, my dad wanted to make something specific for younger athletes, like middle school and high school. He wanted to give it a funny name that would appeal to them, and one day he overheard my brother say to one of his friends that he thought he had jock rot. And my father thought that would be the perfect name to call it.”

August nods, absorbing my explanation. “You’d think they’d call it something else because it sounds like the cream is what’s giving them the rot.”

“But see, the name is what gained the product all the attention. Teenage boys loved saying it, and they were the market he wanted to appeal to. My dad was right when he said he wanted to give it a funny name. It totally worked.

“The company that bought my parents’ business said exactly that. It got famous on social media because of the name but the moment the corporation that bought Jock Rot acquired it, they changed the name almost immediately and sales tanked. My father thinks it’s hilarious,” I explain.

“Your father is probably correct.” August frowns. “Why would they change it?”

“Because the big box stores refused to have something on their shelves called Jock Rot. It sounds and looks awful.”

August is smiling. Laughing and shaking his head. “How much did dear old Dad get for selling his jock rot?”

“Fifty million or something like that?”

He whistles low, shaking his head. “That’s a lot of money for some crotch anti-itch cream.”

Just hearing him say that out loud is embarrassing. “Do you see why I don’t want to talk about my family?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t your dad proud of the fact that he made that much money?”

“I suppose, but the way they manage their wealth is so over the top. They’re very…” I try to think of a nice word to describe how they are, but nothing comes to mind.

“Nouveau riche?” he offers.

“Yes. That’s it.” A sigh leaves me. “They’re just so obvious. My mom wears every expensive label she can find and is always waving her hands around so people can see how many diamond rings she’s wearing on her fingers. Her wrists. Around her neck. They joined a country club and spend all of their time there. Bought a hideous mansion that’s just obscene and he drives a bright red Porsche.”

“I own a Porsche.”

“You’re twenty-two. He’s like, fifty-five and acting like he’s in college again. I’m surprised he’s not here with me trying to get into the frat parties.” I mock shudder at the thought.

“Sometimes people can act…vulgar when they come into money,” August observes.

“Something you’ve probably never dealt with considering you were born into it?” I don’t fault him for that. He can’t help who his parents are or what family he was born to. I’m sure plenty of people think he’s lucky to have that much wealth. Money solves a lot of problems, but it also creates new ones.

Like how my father can’t keep it in his pants and my motherchooses to look the other way because no way is she leaving him now. She’s earned this. She’s told me that more than once.