“My great-granddaddy struck oil on his property back in the early 1900s, so that’s where the money comes from. They still own most of the shares in one of the world’s biggest oil and gas companies.”
“Wow,” Hunter says. “I knew there was some money, obviously, since you talk about your trust fund. I didn’t know that’s where it came from.” He takes a sip of his wine.
“Yep,” I say. “I’m a true Texas boy. Got oil runnin’ through my veins and everythin’,” I say, leaning into my accent. “My daddy’s CEO, and my granddaddy is still chairman of the board.”
Hunter’s eyes widen again. “I had no idea.”
I grin at him, miming tipping up an imaginary cowboy hat. “Yes, sir. That’s me. Deep down, I'm just a I’m a good ol’ Texas boy.”
Hunter chuckles again, probably at the ridiculous image of me with my nail polish and guyliner as a good ol’ boy.
“Brothers and sisters?” he asks.
“Yep, fortunately for my parents, they had two more kids after me. They both fit into the family a lot better than I ever did."
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
I let out a wry laugh. “Well, let’s just say that I was a bit too much for my family to handle, right from the start. Too creative, too excitable, too femme—just altogethertoo much. As the eldest son, the original plan was for me to take over the company from my father when the time came, but I guess it was obvious I wasn’t going to fit into that role from a fairly early age." I take aswallow of my drink. Talking about my family, and my complete failure to ever be anything they ever wanted me to be always leaves a bad taste in my mouth. "Although, I do give them credit for trying.”
Hunter raises his eyebrows, so I continue. “They tried to channel my extra energy into more ‘suitable’ things. I was pushed into every damn activity you can imagine. All stuff designed to try and ‘tone down’ my personality and get me to focus on more ‘appropriate’ things. So, you know, I had to play every sport: football, baseball—they even tried to get me into golf and racquetball for a while. Let me tell you, that was a good time, hanging out with a bunch of old white men at twelve years old, when all I really wanted was to go home and play with my sister’s Barbies.” I roll my eyes. “When that stuff didn’t work out, they tried things like STEM programs, math and engineering and that kind of stuff. None of which I was any good at or had even a sliver of interest in.”
“That must have sucked,” he says sympathetically.
“Yeah, well, don’t feel too sorry for me. I might not have fit in, but I still had a whole lot of privilege. My issues are very much of the ‘poor little rich boy’ variety.” I shrug and take another drink to show that I’m not bothered, but Hunter narrows his eyes.
“Just because you had money doesn’t mean your childhood was easy, Penn. It sounds like they put a lot of expectations on you.”
I shrug again. “I suppose. But like I said, it’s not like it was all bad. And once my parents were certain my baby brother, Will, was going to fit into their plans way better than I would, they shifted all their focus onto him." I let out a snort, trying not to sound bitter, but not succeeding. "They were already so used to being disappointed in me that they didn’t even get upset when I told them I had no interest in going to Yale Law, like all the other men in the family. It was around that time when they officiallytold me I didn’t need to worry about taking over the company. William wanted to do it, so I was off the hook.”
I take a drink of water, trying to moisten my suddenly dry mouth. This is a lot more than I normally tell anyone about my family dynamics.
“That probably didn’t feel great,” he says sympathetically.
I shift in my seat, staring down at the nearly empty sushi plates littering the table between us. “It was fine,” I say, lifting one shoulder. “It wasn’t something I wanted to do anyway, so it meant freedom. Although I suppose it’s always hard to come to terms with the fact that your family wishes you were a different person.”
Hunter cocks his head to the side. “I’m sorry, Penn. That is hard.” He takes a breath. “I guess neither one of us had a perfect childhood. Although I’m not sure anyone ever does.”
The server returns to clear our table and find out if we want dessert, which is good because I don’t know what else I might be tempted to spill to Hunter if we don’t change the subject. I don’t know why, but he's weirdly easy to talk to. I really don’t like the image of myself as someone who can’t live up to expectations, even if the ones my family had for me were unreasonable, so I rarely talk about it. That’s why being the party boy fits me so well. No one expects deep thoughts from the life of the party. It’s easier for everyone that way.
For the rest of the meal, I focus on keeping the conversation light and fun while we share some mochi ice cream. Keeping things light and fun is my whole thing, after all. Not to mention the fact that I don’t need to give Hunter or anyone else more evidence that I’m kind of a fuckup.
Chapter eight
Hunter
It’s still early as we’re finishing dinner, at least for us, since we’re still on Pacific time, so after Penn insists on picking up the tab, we decide to walk along the beach instead of heading straight back to the hotel. The warm Fort Lauderdale night wraps around us, the salty tang of ocean air mixing with the faint scent of sunscreen. Penn’s gone quiet, and I wonder what’s going on in his head.
“It’s a gorgeous evening,” I say softly. We’ve both kicked off our shoes, and my bare feet sink slightly into the cool sand, the sensation grounding—comforting, even—as we walk slowly, the cool water just barely reaching our feet.
“Beautiful,” he agrees, but his voice is distant. I don’t know if I said something wrong or if he’s gone quiet for some other reason. But I know talking about families isn’t easy, and it sounds like Penn deals with a lot of expectations from his family.
The rhythmic ebb and flow of the waves is calming. I’m struck with a crazy urge to reach out and grab Penn’s hand as we walk side by side. I’m chasing that warm thread of connection I felt when he held my hand at the dinner table, but I shove it down.
“Sorry,” Penn says suddenly, breaking into my reverie. His eyes, reflecting the moonlight, meet mine, and the raw honesty in them hits me right in the chest. “I don’t normally get into details about my family.” He shakes his head. “I always tell myself it’s no big deal, but I guess it bothers me on some level.”
“Hey, it’s fine." We've stopped walking, and I turn toward him, reaching out and brushing the pad of my thumb along his cheekbone. "I’m always here to listen if you want to talk about it,” I reply, and I mean it.
He nods and swallows hard, those big blue eyes watery as he blinks at me. His breath catches, and time seems to freeze as we gaze into each other's eyes like we're seeing one another for the first time. The spell breaks when the wind picks up, playing with the ends of my shirt and blowing his hair into his eyes. I pull my hand away quickly, and we turn to keep walking. My heart thumps in my chest.What was that about?
