Not Daddy Material (Billionaire's Contract Duet 2)

I tried to act cool. This wasn’t the time to berate him. Bud would cover that enough for me.

“Oh yeah, we met her.” Bud pushed in front of me. “Who was calling the plays today? Why didn’t you run the route we talked about?”

Gloria and I followed behind them. I was annoyed that I didn’t get so much as a hug.

“Are you and Bud driving back to Austin tonight?” I asked.

“Yes. We only come up for the games. We travel to every one of them.”

“Every one?” I hoped my voice didn’t sound as squeaky as I thought it did.

“What about you, honey? Will we see you in D.C. next weekend?”

I hadn’t thought about it. Wes hadn’t invited me, and we were still taking things one day at a time, even though I felt like this was some kind of time bubble we both lived in.

“Playoffs are his busiest time of the year. If you think you’re going to see him at all, you might want to make some other plans,” she warned. “Traveling with the team might be your best bet.”

Oh God, his mother was giving me advice on how to see him. This was getting worse and worse. I overhead Wes and his dad arguing about a call on the field. The conversation was getting heated, so I decided to butt in.

“Wes, I’ve got that early surgery tomorrow, so maybe we could get going?” I wrapped my hand through the crook of his elbow, not giving Bud any choice but to step back.

“Oh, that’s right.” He smiled at me. “You know, Lennon’s a surgeon.”

“She told us all about it.” Gloria gripped her Wranglers purse. “We need to get on the road anyway. It’s hard for Bud to drive when it gets dark.”

“That’s not true,” he grumbled.

“Thanks for coming up for the game.” Wes hugged his parents.

“It was nice meeting you both.” Gloria wrapped me in a hug before I knew what hit me.

“Maybe we’ll see you next week, honey.”

“Maybe.”

They headed to the reserved parking lot while Wes and I stood in the tunnel and watched them walk away.

“So, how’d you like my parents?” He smiled wickedly.

“Oh, you are so making this up to me.” I crossed my arms.

“Is that a promise?” He waggled his eyebrows.

I rubbed the lipstick off his cheek. “I’d hate to interfere with your concentration for the playoffs.”

“Baby, I’m taking you home right now.”

I looked around to see if there was a reason he had grabbed my hand and started to run. “What’s going on?”

“We’re celebrating. The Wranglers are in the playoffs, you successfully survived meeting the Blakefields, and we are both getting laid.”

I laughed at his last statement. “Sounds like a lot for a Sunday night.”

He started the ignition. “Good thing I drive fast.”

19

Wes