Not Daddy Material (Billionaire's Contract Duet 2)

“Fuck.”

Stubbs stopped what he was doing. “What?”

“I forgot to tell her about my fucking parents.”

He started laughing so hard he snorted. “That’s messed up. She’s going to kill you.”

I shook my head. “Lennon’s not like that.”

Or was she? Holy fuck. I’d told her that story about my dad and then stuck her in a box with him with no warning. I searched for my phone. I still had a chance to call her and give her a heads up. She could back out at the last minute and I’d get it. I wouldn’t want to be up there with him either.

Shit. My phone wasn’t in my bag. I pictured it in the bathroom, plugged into the charger. Double shit.

“Man, if you could see your fucking face right now.” Stubbs pointed at me. “This is why I never have one woman. I don’t want to deal with this shit.”

“You have two girlfriends. How is that any better?”

“Well, if one gives me hell, I just go see the other one.” He grinned.

The guys started to trickle in. Everyone patted me on the back and gave me grief about my hand. There were a few comments about Lennon too, but I bit my tongue. I didn’t need to start punching out my own team before the game.

I’d never felt the need to protect someone before. But I didn’t like the way they talked about her. How hot she was. How fucking awesome she probably was in bed. I focused on lacing up my ties and tried to ignore them.

“Blakefield, you ready for this?” Bruno stuck his chest out and walked through the crowd of linemen.

“Hell, yeah.” I gave him a high five.

“Then let’s huddle and get out there.”

18

Lennon

I was taking being the quarterback’s girlfriend to a whole new level. I was wearing Wes’s jersey along with a pair of skinny jeans and a pair of gorgeous leather boots he had had embroidered for me with my initials inside. I knew the price tag on those alone was over a thousand dollars. He liked to spoil me, and I was starting to like it too. I pulled my hair back in a ponytail and slipped on silver hoops.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I didn’t look like a surgeon. I didn’t look like the girl who had graduated at the top of her med school class. I looked like some girl so in love, she’d do anything to see her boyfriend play football.

I heard the knock on the door. Too late to undo this now, I reminded myself. I was in it. Totally in it.

The driver dropped me off under the stadium and showed me where the elevator was that I was supposed to use for Wes’s private box. I wore the credentials tag he gave me around my neck and showed my ticket to the security guard at the elevator.

“Go Wranglers,” he grunted as the elevator doors closed.

My first AFA game, and I was going to sit in the most elite player’s box in the stadium. I’d seen the boxes on TV. But up close, I knew this would be a completely different experience.

Two weeks ago, I was on my couch, watching Wes walk the sidelines, and now I was here as his girlfriend. His number one fan.

I pushed open the door to the suite, and came face to face with a man with broad shoulders and an eerie resemblance to Wes.

“This is a private suite, ma’am. There’s an usher in the hall that can help you find where you’re supposed to be.”

“Oh no, this is where I’m supposed to be. Wes Blakefield’s box?”

The man looked at a woman, who was picking through a tray of fruit. “Gloria, did Wes mention this to you?”

She looked me over. “No. Honey, who are you?”

Oh God. This was embarrassing. Horrifying. I knew it even without them having to make the proper introductions. These were Wes’s parents. How could he not tell me his parents were going to be in the box?