Page 59 of Boyfriend of the Hour

Carrick snorted. “It’s playtime while I’m waiting for the bigger fish to fry. Speaking of which, I’ve been sent to reel you in.”

Nathan frowned. The analogy was confusing. Did that make him a fish? Frying implied a sort of demise, didn’t it? It was a poor analogy, considering Carrick spent the majority of his time cornering politicians to ensure the current legislation matched Huntwell’s interests. Sometimes, that was accomplished with contracts. Sometimes with blackmail.

Perhaps his brother was just mixing metaphors. Most people didn’t realize when they did that.

“I don’t know why they sent you,” Nathan replied. “I have a practice here. My work is in New York.”

“Not if Mom has anything to do with it,” Carrick replied. “I have to hear at least once a week about how many openings there are for plastic surgeons in the greater Potomac region. As of Monday, it’s three, in case you were wondering.”

Nathan nodded. “She’s been sending me job listings for years. It’s nothing.”

“Yes, we’re all aware where you inherited your stubbornness. Which is why you and I both know she’s just going to keep sending me up here until you move back to Virginia.”

Nathan shook his head. “You’re mistaken. I just saw them a few weeks ago, and she didn’t say anything about that.”

Lillian Hunt had made her yearly Fashion Week trek to New York to put in her couture commissions. She was a lifelong Ralph Lauren customer, but generally had a few smaller houses she treated like pet projects.

“Dad read the paper while she informed me that they want me to resume therapy,” Nathan continued. “Make more appearances at places like this. Keep working on my social skills. Nothing different.”

The awkward brunch had mostly consisted of his parents’ veiled threats about his life if he didn’t do as they asked. That included resuming occupational therapy for his social skills, finding yet another unnecessary roommate, and making more appearances at corporate events in New York where, on top of his actual job, he was supposed to serve as a proxy vote on the Huntwell board in addition to his own seat and network on behalf of his father’s interests.

None of that was a surprise. They went through this particular dance approximately once a year. Much like Carricks’s attempts to draw Nathan away from his self-imposed rules, Lillian’s efforts at converting her son into a “normal” person were intrusive but mostly just annoying. Unlike Carrick, however, she wasn’t above using leverage to force Nathan to submit. Never too far, lest he try to leave again. But she was always trying to stretch the boundaries he’d carefully drawn between him and his parents.

It was a tug-of-war they’d been playing for years.

“That’s not what they said,” Carrick replied. “Why do you think they sent me to New York right after them? Half of success is in the follow-up, brother.” He lazily drummed his fingers on the table. “Mom took one look at you and rushed right home to tell me all about it. Did you bang that waitress, by the way?”

“What waitress?”

“The one that slipped you her number on the check. Dad was impressed. And since they want you to find yourself some pussy, you might as well get there.”

“Christ, Carrick.” Nathan removed his glasses to polish the lenses that suddenly looked very smudged. Somehow, he neverexpected his parents to discuss his personal life with others, and yet, somehow, they always did.

It wasn’t anything remarkable. As he and his parents had left Bergdorf’s, the waitress had slipped Nathan her number.

That in and of itself was nothing new. Women did that frequently. Nathan didn’t know why. He rarely paid any of them attention, but they did it all the time. Waitresses at restaurants, the barista at the Mt. Sinai coffee stand, even patients right after he had literally cut into their bodies to make them look younger or slimmer.

Unfortunately, this time, his parents had seen it. And had apparently approved, if only for him to “sow his oats.”

Another metaphor Nathan didn’t particularly like.

Because, as Carrick had pointed out, there had beenonenew request from his mother: that Nathan find himself a girlfriend. Otherwise, Isla would no longer be taken care of.

It was their only card to play, which Lillian did again and again without a shred of shame. The injustice of it felt like a hole burning in Nathan’s chest. Unfortunately, his mother knew exactly what it meant to him and used it to her full advantage.

It was the only time he ever wished he could be more like Carrick.

But he wasn’t.

Carrick leaned back as the server brought Nathan’s Perrier, as well as a tumbler filled with scotch.

“I didn’t ask for this,” Carrick said, pointing at the brown liquid.

“I t-took the liberty of refilling your drink, sir.” Bobby stuttered slightly under Carrick’s harsh glare.

“Yeah, but if I wanted another glass of sewer water, I’d have asked for it. Send it back and bring me something better than the well crap you’re passing off as Macallan. And if you wanta tip next time, try not to be so obvious about defrauding your guests.”

“I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t—sir, it was a mistake—” Bobby glanced between both brothers, obviously terrified.