Blaise shrugged. Not that he was indifferent or unsure. His ability to recognize patterns had made his company—and him—successful.
“The water. The garter. Who knows? But no need to take chances.” He would rather get poison ivy or the flu than catch the wisp of fabric soon to be tossed. “You go out there, I’m—”
“Coming with me.”
Not about to budge, he squared his shoulders. “What about the Wonderkid?”
“Right here.” Dashiell Cabot, AKA Dash, hurried toward them.
Taller than both Wes and Blaise, Dash pushed his light brown hair out of his eyes. His bow tie was crooked. So was his cummerbund. The guy was more comfortable in a hoodie and sweatpants. And until his company had brought in a high-level handler to teach Dash how to act like a CEO, that was all he’d worn—even to board meetings.
Known as the Wonderkid of Silicon Forest, Dash had founded a company in his freshman dorm room and dropped out of college before his junior year. Five years ago, just in time for their bet, he became a self-made billionaire at twenty-three. A few people called him Midas because whatever new data mining product he developed became that industry’s gold standard. Dash had tackled insurance and military. Who knew what was next for him?
“I stepped outside to take a call,” Dash explained. “There’s a project milestone we need to reach, and someone had a question.”
Wes blew out a breath. “There’s more to life than working a hundred hours a week.”
Yeah, right.Try one hundred and twenty, but Blaise didn’t roll his eyes as he once might have. Wes didn’t deserve that. “You used to do the same.”
“Emphasis on used to,” Wes said without missing a beat. “Cancer makes a person reassess his priorities.”
“I’m sure it does.” Blaise was grateful Wes was in remission. Until he’d gotten sick, Wes had worked more than Dash and Blaise combined. “But work is the most important thing in my life and always will be.”
“Until you meetthe one,” Dash chimed in. “Then things will change.”
Say what? That was the last thing Blaise expected to hear coming from the biggest nerd among them. Given they all had a few geek tendencies—though Wes not as much—that was saying something.
Wes’s gaze snapped to Dash’s. “What do you know aboutthe one?”
“Nothing.” Dash sounded as if that was an unusual position for him to be in. Given he was one of the smartest people on the planet, it probably was. “But each time I pull an all-nighter or spend the weekend at the office, everyone says that.”
“It doesn’t matter where you sleep,” Blaise said in a matter-of-fact tone. He had a pullout couch in his office. Dash had a futon. “A bed is a bed.”
“Exactly,” Dash agreed. “Plus, people fail to understand I already found my one.”
Wes’s jaw dropped.
Blaise understood his surprise. Dash dated women who sought him out. The ones who didn’t mind him working so much stuck around until they realized they’d never be more than someone to hang out with when he had free time, which wasn’t often. “Who?”
Dash’s grin lit up his face. “Zel—”
“Video game princesses don’t count,” Wes interrupted. The disdain on his face matched the tone of his voice.
Blaise laughed.
“Even if she’s perfect?” Dash asked, sounding like a gaming-addicted teenager. Then again, he’d always been the baby of the group—age-wise and maturity level.
“Even then.” Wes sounded older than thirty-five, but he’d always taken on the role of their big brother. “But if your new top-secret project involves general intelligence, we can revisit the princess being your one after you make a prototype of her.”
Dash frowned as if his game controller had gone dead.
Wes laughed. “Given this discussion and the fact none of us are dating, the bet might drag on forever.”
“What bet?” Dash asked.
This time Blaise couldn’t stop rolling his eyes. “Last single man standing bet.”
“Oh, right,” Dash said. “I forgot.”
