Not Daddy Material (Billionaire's Contract Duet 2)

I rolled to the edge of the bed and cautiously placed my bare feet on the floor, careful not to wake my sleeping partner. I watched his back rise and fall with long, steady breaths. He was out.

I tiptoed to the bathroom and splashed water on my face. Hot and wild sex did not make for a glamorous morning after look. An enormous tub spanned the length of the bathroom. I decided to add and then immediately check off something on my personal bucket list: luxurious bath at the Carolina Inn. I turned the silver-handled faucet and doused the rising pool of water with a stream of bubble bath.

Gingerly, I eased myself into the tub and let the warmth envelop my body. I submerged my head under the mountain of bubbles and popped back up for a breath. I knew there was a big smile on my face. Last night was incredible. Beau and I were—well, I wasn’t sure what we were. Defining it didn’t seem as important as the fact that we had finally reconnected after all of these weeks of circling each other.

I traced the tops of the bubble peaks with my toes. Beau felt the same way I did; he didn’t have to say it with words. Every touch he made last night told me. I thought about the room full of artifacts from our dating journey that was on the other side of the door. He had saved all of those tokens from the dates. But we still had to finish the damn project. Shit! I had an agreement with Professor Garcia. There had to be a loophole. There had to be a way I could tell Beau how I felt and still keep my promise to the nutty professor.

I slid deeper into the water until the ripples lapped around my neck. I drifted, suspended in the tub. If I waited until the project was turned in to tell Beau how I was feeling, I risked losing this place we had just found. I thought about the grade I needed to graduate. The grade I needed to start living my dreams in California. But did those dreams even matter if Beau wasn’t in my life?

My hands and feet were officially pruned. I had soaked myself right out of this pensive state. I knew exactly what I was going to do: dry off and tell that boy sleeping in the other room that this was the most incredible semester of my college career, and I had been falling head over heels in love with him since the day he ran me over on his bike. I wrapped the spa-like robe around my chest and fastened the white tie in a knot. My hair shook out over my shoulders. I was ready. This was it.

I pulled open the bathroom door, ready to tackle Beau with the emotions pouring through my heart. Why hadn’t I done this sooner? I had wasted so much time worrying about grades and graduation that I had let the most important part of my college life fall to the side.

“Beau?” I surveyed the empty bed. The sheets were scattered and his suit was missing from the floor. I padded out to the foyer then walked into the center of the dating display.

Beau wasn’t in the suite. Shit! I had waited too long.

17

I called him three times and sent ten texts. I was dangerously on the edge of being a stage five clinger. He could call me a clinger, a deranged ex, or a psycho—I didn’t care as long as he called. I was extremely grateful that the bellhop had delivered my overnight bag to the room before dinner, or else I would have had to complete the walk of shame in the classiest hotel in town in my rumpled black dress. I had packed lightly for the night, so there was enough room in my bag to pack the dating mementos Beau had collected for three months. The rest I shoved in the half-scorched picnic basket. I wasn’t leaving a single piece of our history behind.

I checked my phone a hundred times before leaving the suite. Beau wasn’t answering or calling, but the impulse to make sure I didn’t miss a communication attempt from him was stronger than the logic I had settled on. He wasn’t going to call.

With one last glance at the suite, I slung my bag over my shoulder, rested the charred basket in the crook of my arm, and walked out of the Carolina Inn. The hotel’s Sunday morning patrons eyed the basket over their morning papers and coffee cups, but I kept my head high and charged toward my car.

April in Chapel Hill was stunning. The blooms, the birds, the buzz of students getting ready for the end of the semester were contagious. My heart should have felt heavy, but as I meandered through the parking lot, I felt renewed. I was in love. Head over heels, make-a-fool-of-myself, ditch-every-plan-I’d-ever-made in love. I threw my bag in the backseat and looked at my phone again, just in case I didn’t hear a text from Beau when I was walking through the lobby. Eleven o’clock—I could make it home and post my blog before him. It was the last chance I had to make everything right.

I cracked open my laptop and launched a blank document. The project wasn’t due until Thursday. Even though I had agreed to hold off revealing my feelings until then, I couldn’t wait. Professor Garcia could report me or fail me—I didn’t care.

Last Date: Re-creation of Victoria’s overnight dates in the dream suites with the remaining bachelors

Show Myth to Debunk: Spending quality one-on-one time together overnight in a romantic dream suite leads to love

I took a deep breath and exhaled across the keyboard. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing this. What was it that Mitch Henderson always says? You can’t find love if your heart doesn’t want to walk the journey. True, it was corny and obviously written for commercials, but the sparkly blue-eyed host had a point.

Last night, my Comm 224 partner, Beau Anderson, and I were supposed to fulfill the final requirement of our semester-long project chronicling our re-created Love Match dates. During last week’s episode, the show followed the bachelorette over the course of three nights. Each night she spent the evening with a different bachelor in a dream suite. When I saw the show, I couldn’t believe Victoria could spend three separate nights with three different men. How confused is this girl? It didn’t make sense to me that on this journey to find love she was so willing to share so much of herself with more than just the one man she’s meant to be with. Because when you’re in love, there’s nothing you want more than to see that person every day and every night. They are the why for your sudden smile. They are the reason for new chances you’re willing to take. They inspire you to be mo

re, to be better, and to be real. Loving someone isn’t a hobby or a project—it’s part of your being.

All season I’ve watched Victoria on her journey to find love. I’ve gone on the dates and you have read about every single one of them. I told you how Beau and I didn’t have a spark and that no matter how romantic the dates were, nothing he did could convince me that Love Match was anything but a fraud.

The truth is Love Match isn’t the fraud—I am. I have been lying since my first blog. The reason I think Victoria is crazy for splitting her time between three guys is because for me there’s only one guy. And with him, I can’t imagine spending one single second having dinner or laughing or kissing anyone else.

Maybe it’s because every time we were on a date, he held the door for me or put a coat around my shoulders when I shivered. Maybe it was the way he held me and coaxed me down the rock wall, or maybe it was how he taught me that there are five fouls in a basketball game. I could make a long list of all the things that he taught me about living in the moment and making the most of every second we had. I don’t know what it was or how it happened, but I, London James, am completely head over heels in love with Beau Anderson. I’m just sorry it took a reality show to help me figure it out.—L.J.

If Beau had taught me anything, it was that this was my graduation, my future, and my life. I tapped out the last sentence and pushed the enter button with certainty.

It was done. Now I just had to wait.

Monday morning I knocked on Professor Garcia’s office door. She was one of the rare instructor’s who spent more time in her office than out of it.

“Come in.”

I crossed the threshold into the cramped cubby the university labeled as an office. “Hi, Professor Garcia.”

“London. Isn’t this a nice surprise?” She pulled her glasses down on the brim of her nose. With warmer weather, she had traded in her boots for bright pink sandals. I didn’t think the woman knew what a neutral wardrobe was.

“I wanted to talk to you about the project.”