Having It All Read online

  Contents

  About this book

  HAVING IT ALL

  Dedication

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Dear Reader

  Other Books

  Excerpt

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Having It All

  Josh Hardwick’s life looks great. He lives with his best friends, runs a gourmet food truck, and spends his nights hooking up with every eligible woman in D.C.. But he hides his daily struggle with dyslexia--which holds him back from expanding his business.The last complication he needs is a relationship. Especially not with an off-limits friend who is dangerously hot...

  Annabeth Vasquez wears combat boots because life is a war zone and she damn well intends to be a survivor. She’s clawed her way out of poverty and is still in shock at her amazing new job. Failure isn’t an option. So being distracted by Josh’s playboy moves is definitely out of the question. The boutique job puts her in the middle of his circle of rich, educated friends. Annabeth can’t believe they accept her--or that Josh wants her.

  Dating a player always ends badly, and Annabeth can’t risk losing her job. No matter how well Josh kisses... Her job’s at stake. Josh’s friends will kill him if he screws up and hurts her. But they can’t ignore how long--and how much--they’ve wanted each other. So when Josh comes up with a plan to test-drive their relationship, Annabeth’s on board. Will they be able to move beyond their complicated pasts and fears and discover love makes it possible to have it all?

  HAVING IT ALL

  a Naked Men novella

  by

  Christi Barth

  For all the readers who loved my Naked Men and asked for Josh’s story…

  CHAPTER ONE

  Eleven Years Ago . . .

  Was he dead?

  That was the thought that popped Josh Hardwick’s eyes open every time he woke up. Obviously, if he could think it, he wasn’t dead. But he’d passed out more times than he could count in the last three days.

  The passing out—sometimes in mid-sentence, according to his friends—scared the shit out of him. Sure, it was easy to attribute that to the giant gashes on his head. Even at sixteen, Josh could put two and two together and figure out that he had a skull fracture…at best. Blinding headaches, blurry triple vision, puking until his body ran out of food to throw up, and the constant slips into unconsciousness. His memory, though, was just fine.

  Which sucked.

  Because Josh desperately wanted to forget the bus crash. The stomach-churning roll as it slid down the mountainside. The pain when his head smacked something sharp, and then the worse pain when it hit something harder on the other side as the bus finally got stopped by a tree. He wanted to forget the bloody sight of the impaled driver, the reek of the smoke from the fire nipping at their heels as he and his three best friends scrambled to get out.

  He especially wanted to forget the last three days of wandering, coatless and hurt, in the brisk March cold of the Italian Alps.

  So no, not dead. Not yet, anyway.

  Eyes now open, Josh scanned the snow-covered peaks just outside the cave. How the hell would anyone be able to find them, to rescue them?

  “Hey! You’re awake!” Griffin Montgomery, captain of their soccer team and a close enough replica that people mistook him for Josh’s brother, leaned right over his face. “Good morning!”

  A flat palm on Griff’s chest shoved him away. “Dude. We haven’t brushed our teeth in freaking days. Your morning breath could literally kill a small rodent. Keep your distance.”

  “What’s so good about this morning, anyway?” Knox Davies grumbled. He rubbed his eyes. But considering his glasses had been lost in the bus crash, chances were slim he could see much of anything.

  Riley Ness awkwardly hunched over as he came back into the cave. The freshmen from their high school might be able to fit in here, but they were juniors. All of them except Knox had already hit six feet. Of course, Riley was probably also hunching to protect the dislocated shoulder Griff had jammed back into place their first night. “Yeah. I just peed into a snowdrift. That’s no way to start the morning.”

  “We’re lost, butt-ass cold, with just about zero chance for rescue. It is a sucky, shit-ass zit of a morning.”

  Griff arrowed a finger at Knox. “I told you, we’re rescuing ourselves. And it’s a good morning because Josh woke up. Again.”

  “Pretty low bar on the day if all I have to do is wake up.” Josh smirked. Wouldn’t it be great if that carried over once they got home? His grades had been crap and his teachers had written him off as a lazy troublemaker most of his life.

  The dyslexia diagnosis two years ago had changed things. Now he got extra time for tests. A tutor helped him bridge the gap between the classroom day and his struggles with homework. But the years of not meeting expectations, of being treated like he was stupid? That humiliation still stuck with him.

  Getting an A for waking up? That he could handle.

  “If you make it three hours straight without passing out, there will be a reward,” Griff promised.

  Knox snorted, mussing his dark hair with both hands. “A cookie or a medal?”

  “Hell, if we get rescued, shouldn’t we all get something awesome?” Riley scooped up a handful of dry leaves and tossed them in the air like confetti. “Medals for bravery? A parade for our awesomeness?”

  Griffin rubbed around the edges of his swollen knee. “Pretty much think getting rescued would be its own reward.”

  It got quiet—too quiet—as they all thought about that. There’d been a lot of moments like that since the crash. Josh knew he got scared and freaked out and pissed about every seven minutes. The only thing that kept them from giving in to the panic and crying through the dark nights was being with each other. Making fart jokes. Telling stories—mostly real, but obviously fake in Knox’s case—about the girls they’d kissed.

  Josh knew it was his turn to step up and distract everyone. Make them laugh and joke and feel normal for a couple of moments. That was his superpower.

  So he rolled up to prop himself on an elbow. Waited while the wave of nausea passed. Waited for the cave floor to stop bending and rolling and the walls to stop spinning around him. Then he reached out and flicked Knox, fast, three times on the ear.

  “Why’d you have to go and mention cookies, dipwad? I’m so hungry I could slap some snow between these leaves and call it a sandwich.”

  Poking at the bridge of his nose where his glasses usually sat, Knox frowned. “I didn’t think saying the word cookie would set you off. Because it’s breakfast time. Traditionally, that would entail eggs, bacon, or some sort of cereal. Although in Europe, there’d be more cheeses and smoked meats. And in Japan, there’d be a spread of grilled fish, rice, and miso soup. But definitely this is not a time of day that creates an expectation of cookies.”

  That was classic Knox. Him and his officially certified genius brain always used twice as many words as the rest of the guys.

  “What about Pop-Tarts?” Riley pointed out. “They’re sort of a breakfast sandwich and a breakfast cookie mash-up.”

  Griffin groaned. “God, I’d kill for a brown-sugar and cinnamon Pop-Tart. Not even heated. I’d just rip the foil open and maw down on them two at a time.”

  “Screw breakfast.” Josh flipped up his middle finger as punctuation.

  Griff swatted it back down. “Dude. Don’t disrespect bacon that wa
y.”

  “I mean it. The first thing I want when we get back to civilization is a sandwich. A grilled cheese.” That’s what he’d been fantasizing about.

  Well, that and Brittney Tucker’s boobs. She’d let him take her bra off “for good luck” before the team had flown out to attend this international soccer tournament. Hey, whatever got a guy through almost dying, right? He’d be sure to thank her when/if they got home.

  Squinting—maybe from the missing glasses, maybe from confusion—Knox asked, “You could have anything—steak, burgers, pizza—and you’re going with grilled cheese as your dream food?”

  “Not just any grilled cheese. The one our cook, Earlene, makes. Mustard and horseradish on the bread for a kick. Three kinds of cheese that melt together into an orange-y white swirl. Golden brown on the outside. Perfectly crunchy and then perfectly gooey. There’s nothing better.”

  “The way you describe it?” Riley closed his eyes and patted his belly with a smile. “I’d give Knox’s left nut to eat that.”

  Griff smirked. “Wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice on his part, seeing as how neither of his nuts have had any action yet.”

  There wasn’t much light in the cave, but the weak sun slanted right across Knox’s bright red cheeks. “Shut up. I only said I didn’t want to die a virgin because, well, I thought we were gonna die. Not for you to yank my chain.”

  There it was. Josh’s motivation for the day. The motivation he needed to get up off the cold, hard dirt and go back to trudging through the snow in the hopes they’d stumble across a trail or road or a handy avalanche survival hut.

  Knox wouldn’t die a virgin. And Josh damn well wouldn’t die with his stomach as hollow as this cave.

  Slowly, he rolled forward onto his knees. “We’re not gonna die. We’re going to make it home, and Earlene’s going to teach me how to make that grilled cheese.”

  Griffin scratched the matted layers of his blond hair. “You want to learn how to cook?”

  “Yeah. Because I never, ever want to be this hungry again. Talking about that grilled cheese just put a smile on Riley’s face, even though I know his shoulder and broken ribs have to hurt like a son of a bitch. Food makes people smile.”

  “So does this.” Knox squished his hand under his pit and made a disgusting noise. They all laughed.

  And for a few moments, it felt normal. It felt like they might actually make it out of the Alps.

  And then, Josh would eat grilled cheese sandwiches until he burst.

  If they made it…

  CHAPTER TWO

  Present Day

  Global warming sucked—in principle. But tonight, Josh was secretly glad the surprise warm spell that had locked in over D.C. meant they could have their annual Halloween bash on the roof deck. The fall breeze kept him just cool enough so that the spandex of his Captain America costume was…survivable.

  He slid the round shield onto his back. “Knox, I owe you an apology. I know I called your idea to have all of us dress as the Avengers stupid. But man oh man, is it ever working. Every woman at this party is checking out my muscles.” Josh pointed at the idiot in a Chewbacca costume over by the bar. “None of them are looking at Fur Boy over there.”

  “Well, you know me.” Knox tapped the glowing circle under his T-shirt that looked exactly like Tony Stark’s Arc Reactor. Because he was smart enough not to settle for a bulky tin can of a costume. Instead, he’d assigned one of his brainiac, tech-whiz minions to make an actual light-up shirt that was good enough to be used in the next movie. “Always thinking of new ways to make sure you get laid.”

  “I hear the sarcasm, and yet I choose to ignore it.”

  Knox looked over at his fiancée, Madison, dressed in a sexy, tight, Pepper Potts suit with her blond hair in a bun and her Amazonian figure almost busting out. Not that Josh would risk commenting on Madison’s sexiness in front of Knox, even as a compliment. The man was crazy overprotective since even before he’d put a ring on her finger. A goofy, love-drunk smile worked its way across Knox’s lips. “It’s weird to think that last year, we stood right here and you were my wingman.”

  “You were my wingman,” Josh corrected. Sure, Knox had slept with every hot and semi-hot woman in D.C., Arlington and Baltimore. But only after Josh saw them first and allowed Knox to have his leftovers.

  “Just saying. A lot’s changed in a year. Griffin and Chloe engaged, Logan and Brooke moving in together, Riley and Summer all over each other.”

  “You’re planning a freaking wedding. That’s the biggest change of all. One I would’ve bet against with every cent I own.”

  Knox rubbed together his thumb and two fingers. “I would’ve taken that action myself. And I’d have been an idiot. Because Madison’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

  Shit. Was this a nudge? Josh leaned his arms on the wooden railing and looked at the orange glow of downtown D.C. “I should probably start looking for a new place.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re getting married. This is your house.” After a childhood barely scraped together with sheer grit by his mom and a shit-ton of scholarships, Knox had turned multimillionaire before even graduating from college. He’d bought a converted rectory that he shared with his best friends.

  As soon as Griff’s Coast Guard posting brought him to D.C., he’d joined Josh and Riley in it. Logan spent most of his time overseas doing disaster recovery, but always came back to his room in the rectory. They’d been best friends before the accident in the Alps. Blood brothers, even. But that experience had glued them into a cohesive unit. Living together worked for them.

  Or it had, until one by one, the guys all went and fell like dominoes for some—admittedly amazing—women.

  Now Josh was the only one left standing. Solo. Damn happy to be that way. For once, with zero intent of following in his friends’ footsteps.

  Knox took a sip of Johnnie Walker Black (this was a party of a hundred people, after all—he broke out the Pappy Van Winkle only when it was just the five of them). “This is our house. All five of us. For as long as you want. Dude, you know that. Madison and I have the whole top floor. That’s enough space, even when the kids start coming.”

  Josh did a literal spit take. First one in more than a decade, because who wanted to waste good booze? His beer bottle fell from suddenly numb fingers, hopefully not falling on anyone five floors below. “You’re having kids?”

  “Not tomorrow or anything. But yeah, of course. I love Madison and want to have a family with her.”

  Was the earth spinning backward? Was he in Superman’s Bizarro World? If Knox Davies wanted to pop out ankle-biters, what was next? Finding out that French fries actually lowered your cholesterol?

  He plowed a hand through the blond hair he’d gelled into a damn close copy of Chris Evans’ side swoop. “I’m totally torn between being happy that my best friend is so happy—and asking what alien sucked the mind out of said best friend, the biggest horndog in Delmarva.”

  “Just wait,” Knox said smugly. “You’re next.”

  “Bullshit.” If memory served, Logan lost his virginity first, in ninth grade. Knox didn’t get lucky until senior year. Proof that they absolutelyfuckingpositively did not have to do this together.

  “There’s a reason why four of us fell in love in six months. We were finally all ready. You are, too.” This time, there was less smugness and more of a knowing smirk. The same one Knox gave when he poured salsa made with nuclear-hot ghost peppers all over Josh’s taco without warning him.

  Salsa that made an actual blister on his lip. One that Josh made sure to replicate with a fast, retaliatory uppercut for Knox.

  “Look, I know you’re smart. And that you’re right an obnoxious fucking amount. But you’re not right about this.”

  Another smirk. “The average is in my favor.”

  “And the facts are in mine.” Josh speared up three fingers. “I’ve got time for three things in my life: cooking, soccer, and h
anging with you guys. Screwing around with women is just that—screwing around for a couple of hours and then getting out before it gets serious.”

  “Why are you fighting against this so hard?”

  “Why are you fighting for it so hard?”

  Griffin leaned on the railing next to them, dangling his Thor’s hammer on a strap from his wrist. “Why are you two fighting at all? This is a party.”

  Finally. Reinforcements. Somebody to agree with him and change the subject to anything besides love and marriage. Because Griff was better than all of them at keeping a level head and listening to an argument from all sides.

  “Knox thinks I should give up the distinct pleasure of sleeping with whoever I want just because he can’t do it anymore.”

  Looking over at his fiancée of only a month, Griff smiled and said, “He’s right. The only thing better than sleeping with any woman you want? It’s knowing that you only want to be with one woman, the right woman, for the rest of your life.”

  Traitor. Love had infected all of them.

  But Josh refused to let their madness ruin their party. So far tonight, he’d made out in the wine cave with a sexy nurse, and he’d kissed a sexy milkmaid on the stairs. By his count, there were still at least five women who deserved a good makeout session. A woman in a scuba suit had caught his eye by the bar. And the best part of wetsuits? One good yank of that zipper led to a whole lot of naked.

  “I’m getting another beer.” More like fifty/fifty between grabbing a beer and just getting the hell away from the love brigade.

  But as he threaded his way through the packed deck, he saw Summer, Riley’s girl, in a red wig tonight as Mary Jane to Ry’s Spider-Man. Josh angled sideways and leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Do you want a trick or a treat?”

  “I think I already had the treat.” She gave him a squeeze around the waist and waved the other hand, holding a napkin with a few dark crumbs. “Riley told me that you guys had this party catered, but aren’t these pumpkin caramel brownies your own particular sorcery? I remember eating five of them when you made dinner two weeks ago.”