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Banking the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys, #2)(38)

By:Max Monroe


"That'd be great, honey. I'll get dinner."

"Perfect." Someone called for her attention in the background again, and  she whipped her head back and forth once more. "I have to go," she said  directly to me, and she almost looked disappointed. "I'll talk to you  soon, Wheorgie. Let me know if you need me to do any last-minute stuff  for Big Dick's party."

"I need you to cook," Georgie teased, and Cass just flipped her off.

"Let me know if you need me to do something I'm actually capable of."

"Like give blow jobs?"

Cassie smiled as she made a slicing motion across her throat.

I took the opportunity to interject. "I could actually use your help with one of those."

"Just how many of those are on your to-do list?" she asked, pretending  to be annoyed. "Every time I check one off, another one gets added to  the bottom."

"Yeah, it's more of a perpetual to-do."

I heard someone speed-talk about something from off to the side of her,  and her eyes snapped back to us. "I really have to go now. Later."

And then she was gone. I missed her immediately.

"Picking up your dry cleaning?" Georgie questioned, and I waved her off.

"Georgie."

"No, Thatch, that was as domestic as I've ever seen my friend in the  history of, well, ever, and she didn't even seem pissed about it."

"She's just determined not to let me win in a war of wills," I  downplayed in an effort not to talk about it. I was pretty sure Cassie  was on my wavelength, feeling all the things I was feeling, and I hoped  my instincts were right.         

     



 

"True enough, but this is not that."

I took a deep breath and changed the subject. "Where are we with Kline's party? All set?"

"Nice subtle avoidance," she mocked. I shook my head and stared directly into her gentle blue eyes.

"I wasn't trying to be subtle."

"O-kay," she agreed, the motion of her mouth exaggerated.

She turned to her computer and opened a document that had a checklist of party details two pages long.

"Jesus," I remarked. It was supposed to be to myself, but judging by the  aggressive eyes she turned my way, I hadn't been successful.

"It's mostly just the details of what I've been telling Kline. You know  he's too smart for anybody's good, and I've been trying to avoid getting  caught in a lie."

"Especially because you're a shit liar."

"How do you know I'm a shit liar?" She pouted.

"Honey." I tilted my head. "Everybody knows."

"Goddammit. I'm gonna be good at it one day."

I shook my head with a smile and tucked a stray hair behind the ear of  Kline's perfect match. "No. You won't. And that's a good thing. We are  who we are for a reason. You're the perfect fit for my friend because  you are the way you are. I'm pretty sure he'd be pissed if you changed."

She smiled, and the sincerity of it lit up the room. Yeah, Kline had picked well.

"Why are you the way you are?"

"How exactly am I?"

"Knock, knock," Wes said from the door, looking from Georgia to me  curiously. "I've been waiting for you for at least five minutes, dude. I  had a suspicion I might find you here, though."

"Just saying hello," I dismissed, leaning down to place a friendly kiss on Georgie's cheek.

"Does Kline know you like to kiss his wife?" Wes teased.

"As a matter of fact, he does, Whitney." He didn't fucking like it, but  he knew. And it wasn't like I was giving her open-mouth tongue with a  side of tit grab.

Georgia just shook her head and threw up a jaunty wave. "Bye, boys." Her  eyes moved to me, a piercing promise of  this-conversation-isn't-anywhere-near-over rolling tumultuously in their  depths.

Wes and I both waved before moving down the hall toward his office.

"What did I interrupt?" Wes asked as we stepped inside and he closed the door behind me.

"Nothing." I pulled off my suit coat and took a seat in the chair in  front of his desk. "We were just talking about Kline's birthday."

"It didn't sound like that."

"Jesus." I rubbed at my head. "What are you, the conversation police? It was nothing."

"So it doesn't have anything to do with your roommate?" he pushed with a smirk.

Narrowing my eyes, I told him the truth. Well, at least half the truth. "No. It doesn't."

He pulled out the chair from behind his desk and moved to sit down.

"And how do you know she's my roommate? I'm pretty sure you were still out of town when that happened."

"I was. Kline wasn't."

I twisted and lifted my leg so that my right ankle rested comfortably on  my left knee and tried to tamp down the nervous swell in my stomach.  Talking about everything with Cassie with other people made it real. And  being real made me feel like I had everything to lose. My mind had  rerouted the end goal, and winning a prank war wasn't my focus. I wanted  to win her.

"He sure has made a flawless transition from Perfect Paul to Gossip Gabe."

Wes smirked. "He's just happy he isn't the center of attention anymore.  It was never his thing. But you should feel at home here."

Both my hands raised to shoulder level in a gesture of what can you do. "I can't help it if I'm endlessly interesting."

His body shook with laughter as he reached for the files on the corner  of his desk. "So I have a few guys I really want. And I need to find the  number that's going to make that happen comfortably. A couple of them  are coming to the end of their contracts with the Seahawks, but one kid  is just finishing college."

"No draft?"

"He tore his ACL pretty early in this last season. And he'd been sitting  second-string to that Pulchek kid for most of the first three years of  his college career. No one else has even thought about touching him. At  least not since his All-American years in high school."

"So why are you thinking about touching him?"

He raised a brow suggestively, so I flipped him off.

"Because he's fucking good."         

     



 

A shocked laugh burst from my lips. "Well, fuck. I'd say that's a good reason." I held out a hand. "Here, let me see his file."

Wes pulled it from the bottom of the stack and passed it to me, leaning  back in his chair and running a rough hand through his hair.

"You know it's not your job to help me pick people, right? I just need  you to make sure I'm paying them the right amount of money."

"Oh, I know it's not my job. I do it as a favor out of the goodness of my heart."

"I don't really need-"

"To thank me?" I interrupted and pointed at him. He narrowed his eyes.  "You're right. It doesn't need to be spoken between friends."

He just shook his head as I opened the folder, and I didn't bother to  hide my smile. He was too easy to play with, and with the way I wasn't  in control of anything else in my life right now, it felt good to be in  control of this. It felt normal.

Recognition had me jumping to my feet when I saw the picture on top of the papers inside.

"Holy shit! Sean Phillips?" I'd had a flicker of a memory from Portland  when Wes had said ACL, but it was a really fucking common injury and I  wasn't expecting to be this lucky. I figured I'd have to drop hints  about Sean to make Wes think it was his idea at some point, but this  really saved me the trouble.

Wes's face scrunched in amused confusion. "Yeah. You know him?"

"Ha!" I shouted, a goofy smile making me feel nearly drugged. "Yeah. I know him."

He's gonna go fucking pro!

I tapped the folder almost aggressively. "This is Cassie's brother."

"Get the fuck out of here," Wes said through a laugh. "That kid is black."

I shook my head and chuckled. "I said the same thing when I saw his  picture on her phone a couple months ago. I figured she was bullshitting  me, but she wasn't. I was just at her parents' house, and this is her  brother, Sean."

"Well, I didn't see that coming."

Fuck, I didn't see anything coming anymore. The thought made me smile.





"Listen, Phil. I need you to be cool," I said, fluffing up the dog bed  I'd picked up on the way home. Following the mini-pig breeder's  instructions, I placed the bed in the corner of the master bedroom with  lots of blankets for him to root through. Since it had been nearly two  decades since I had Dad, my childhood pig, I was a bit rusty on my  pig-owning skills.

"Shit will probably go down once Thatch gets home, but if I'm cool, and  you're cool, we should all be cool as a motherfucking cucumber."

The little guy snorted in response and proceeded to nudge my leg with  his tiny pink nose while his little tail wiggled back and forth.

After straightening his bow tie, I stood up and pointed down at Phil's new bed. "This is where you'll sleep."

He grunted in response, his tail abruptly stopping its excited movement  while he proceeded to just stare at the pile of blankets on top of the  bed.