Marrying My Billionaire Hookup

But being invited to her parents’ home is a whole new level.

“Are you sure I don’t have to bring anything?” I ask. “Some wine, or…?”

“For the tenth time, no. But you can bring flowers for my mom and aunt, if you want. That’ll make them happy.” Jo picks out a pale gray shirt and jeans. “Here you go.”

“I can dress myself, you know.”

“Yes, but I’m a professional.” She sticks her tongue out. “And I don’t want you putting on a fifteen-thousand-dollar suit. I don’t understand how you could’ve thought it would be the thing to wear to a Mexican family restaurant.”

I sigh. “It just seemed appropriate. I wanted to make a good impression. Most women want their men to look good.”

“You looked amazing.” She lets out a sigh, her eyes soft. “But you’ll also look great in what I picked out.”

I grumble a bit, even though I’m pleased to hear she thought I looked awesome.

Jo’s in a casual yellow and cream sundress with a lavender floral pattern and silver heels.

“I thought we were dressing casual,” I say.

“I need to get some use out of my favorites before I get too big. And I need to go shopping for some cute maternity clothes and shoes.”

“Here.” I hand her my credit card. “Use this.”

“I have money,” she says.

“I know, but it’s my baby too.”

She grins. “Okay. I’m not turning down shopping money when it’s fair.” She winks, then takes the card and puts it in her purse.

Pulling her close, I kiss her on the crown of her head, loving her good humor and looking forward to seeing what she’s going to get for herself and our baby.

On the way to her parents’ house, we stop by a florist. I buy two large bouquets—one for her mother and one for her aunt.

The lunch isn’t just about food. I suspect it’s going to be more like an audition, and I’m not above bribing some of the more susceptible judges.

Jo gives me directions, and eventually we turn in to a cul-de-sac with three homes. “Right there. The one in the middle.”

The driveway and curb are packed with sedans, a couple of SUVs and a truck. I park my Mercedes.

“Looks like everyone’s already here,” Jo says.

“Are we late?” Being late to an audition is a bad idea.

“No, because Tío Manny hasn’t started serving food yet. Otherwise, Angel would’ve texted me to hurry up.”

I get out and go around the car to open the door for Jo. But she’s already stepping out. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” she says.

“I want to.” I wish she’d just let me. I see curtains in the house move. Most likely some of her brothers and cousins, watching to see how I treat her.

“You’re such a gentleman.” Then she leans closer. “Except in bed,” she whispers, her breath hot against my ear.

My blood heats, then pools downward. Shit. I can’t face her family sporting an erection.

“Behave.” I try to sound stern, but somehow it comes out soft and growly instead.

“Are you sure you want that?”

Shaking my head, I grab the bouquets and we start toward the squat, two-story building. The yard has an herb garden. I recognize a few plants because the gardener at the family mansion in Tempérane grows them for the cook. Jo’s parents have also planted some lavender, and the air is replete with the soothing scent.