“What are you thinking?” she asks. My eyes find hers. They’re heavy and watching me lazily.

“That I love your look.”

She smirks. “You either love me or hate me.”

“I disagree.” I tug the other foot into my lap, remove the expensive shoe, and get to work. “You’re not in-your-face with your style, Kat. It’s simply you. Just like some women prefer jeans and T-shirts, or any other kind of style. You’re not being rebellious.”

“I’m too old for that shit.”

“Exactly. I like it.”

“Thanks.” She grins and someone knocks at the door with our room-service order. “Don’t think you’re saved from rubbing my feet.”

“I wouldn’t dare assume that,” I reply with a laugh, and walk over to retrieve our late-night snack. When I return, Kat is typing furiously on her phone.

“Mia is hilarious,” she says with a smirk, then smiles when I set her sundae next to her. “Oh God, there’s chocolate too.”

“I also ordered cheesecake and cookies, just in case.”

“You’re good at room service.”

“I’m good at a lot of things.” I spoon up some ice cream and hold it up to her mouth.

“That’s delicious.”

She concentrates on her phone, smiling at the response she’s getting from her friend while shoveling more ice cream into her perfect mouth. Watching her eat is making my dick hard.

Pretty much everything she does makes my dick hard.

She smirks. “My friend Mia is so funny.”

“Mia?” I ask, enjoying the sugar, rubbing her feet, and watching her reactions to her friend’s texts.

“She’s one of my business partners. She runs the kitchen. And when I say run, I mean she’s a dictator in the kitchen.”

“She must be good at her job.”

“She is,” she replies proudly. “And she works harder than any of us, and trust me, we all work hard. But Mia hardly leaves the restaurant, and I swear, she never sleeps.”

“She’ll burn out.”

“That’s what we tell her too, but she’s stubborn. That’s probably why we get along so well.”

“It’s late.”

“She’s probably just heading home,” Kat says, then smirks again. “She’s asking me about my sexcation.”

“Who came up with that term?” I ask, and run my hand up her calf.

“I don’t remember,” she says with a frown. “It was when Addie, another of my partners, was going through some issues in her love life, before she met her husband, and we were encouraging her to go have some fun.”

“And did she?”

She shrugs. “She met Jake, and they started bouncing around together.”

“Bouncing around.” I laugh and shake my head. “You’re funny.”

“Well, they did. And now they’re married, and about to have a baby. I can’t wait for that baby.”

“Do you like babies?”

“Not usually.” She cocks her head to the side, a slight frown between her eyebrows. “Kids usually drive me nuts. Cami loves babies. But this is different. It’s Addie.”

She says it so simply. It’s her friend’s baby, so of course she’ll love it.

“Okay, I need you to break this down for me,” I begin, and shift in the chair, switching feet again. “Who is who and how many business partners do you have?”

She finishes tapping on her screen, then sets her phone aside and settles in with her ice cream, giving me her full attention.

Which is just how I like it.

“There are five of us,” she begins. “Mia, who is a chef like I said. Addie, who runs the front of the house. Cami is our accountant. Riley is in charge of marketing and public relations. And me.”

“And you run the bar.”

“I do.” She nods.

“How did you all meet?”

“Well, Mia, Addie, and Cami have known each other since they were little kids. They grew up together. Then Riley and I came into the fold in college. I was Mia’s roommate, and Riley was Cami’s.”

“And you were just all instantly friends?”

“Well, I was a bratty kid. I was more like the little sister.”

“What do you mean?” I ask with a frown.

“I’m younger than them by a couple years.” She shrugs. “I went to college at sixteen.”

“Really.”

“Yeah. It’s no big deal.”

“What was your major?”

“I have a doctorate in psychology.”

I blink and feel my eyebrows climb. “And you’re a bartender?”

“I’m a business owner,” she replies sharply, and I hold my hands up in surrender.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be offensive. I’m surprised.”

“My parents thought I’d be a scientist, like them.”

“What do they do?”

“They’re rocket scientists. Literally. Two of the biggest brains in the country, and their daughter is a bartender.”

“A business owner,” I remind her with a wink. Jesus, I had no idea. I knew she was smart, but not this.

“Well, it’s not what they expected.”

“Are they angry? Do they give you shit for it?”

“Oh no.” She shakes her head and sets her empty bowl aside. “My parents are awesome. They’re just happy that I’m happy, but I’m sure they’d rather I was working in an office with my name on the door, Ph.D. after my name, charging two hundred dollars an hour.”