The Billionaire Player (In Too Deep)

“Got you,” I said, making another note before looking back up at him. “How do you feel about knocking out some of the walls? What I’m thinking about is opening some of the living spaces to the kitchen. It will just make it more accommodating if you’ve got people over and you’re having a good time. No one will have to disappear while they’re cooking or getting drinks.”

“I’m more of a takeout guy myself, but I can cook, so if I ever decide to do more of it, that’d be good.”

“You can cook?” My brows twitched. “Really?”

His shoulders started to shake with silent laughter. He lowered his chin and shot me a questioning look. “Yeah. Why? Is that really so surprising?”

“Do you want me to be honest?”

“Yes.”

I shrugged. “Then yes, it is so surprising. Do you mean like cook cook or break some eggs into a pan and scramble them?”

“Cook cook,” he said. “My mom taught me when I was younger. She had this thing about family activities. Cooking was one of them. She had me sitting on the counter watching her before I could even walk. As I got older, I started helping and it just kind of snowballed from there. I’m no chef, but I’d get by without takeout if I had to.”

“I suppose you would’ve had to while you were still playing,” I mused. “Don’t professional athletes have to eat really well?”

He nodded. “That’s a big part of why I kept doing it. It’s damn expensive to get healthy meals made for you and delivered. Maybe not so much anymore, but it used to be unaffordable when I started out.”

“Do you see yourself ever cooking more often at that house?” I asked, explaining the idea as it started taking shape in my head. “A kitchen really is the heart of a home, but it can be very different depending on what you need from it. Do you want sleek and modern, functional, family style?”

“I don’t know about the other ones, but I do know that I don’t want sleek and modern.”

Our server came to offer us dessert, but Tanner asked for the check instead. I was a little disappointed until he looked back at me.

“I saw this gelato stand around the corner when I first drove through here,” he said. “Do you want to go get some? We can find someplace to sit if you want to keep taking notes, but I’ve been itching to try it.”

“Sure.” I jotted down what we’d discussed about the kitchen so far, then closed my folder and tried to pay my half when the server came back. Tanner refused, insisting on handing over his card and only his card.

When we got outside and started walking toward the stand, I slid my wallet out of my purse and held it against my chest. “I’m getting the gelato and I’m not interested in arguing about it. It’s my treat and that’s that.”

He let out a low whistle, laughing as his eyes met mine. “I think I like it when you’re bossy, so I won’t argue about it, but it’s a one-time deal. If I let you get the gelato, you don’t even try to pay next time.”

Next time?I almost got excited, but then I remembered I’d be working for him for the next few months at least. We wouldn’t have to meet too often, but there would be a next time. For business purposes.

“We’ll see.” I gave a noncommittal shrug and smiled innocently. “Perhaps next time I’ll suggest the place and we might just find that our meal has already been paid for. Who knows?”

“Oh, you’re sneaky.” He laughed. “Not sneaky enough, though, since you just told me your plan.”

“It wasn’t a plan. It was just a hypothetical situation that we may find ourselves in one day. It’ll be a mystery as to who paid for us. I won’t even leave your sight, so it won’t have been me.”

“Uh huh. I believe you.” We walked in silence for a beat, then he pointed at a cart parked across the road. “There it is. What flavor are you getting?”

“Depends on what they have, but I’m a big fan of mint choc-chip. Maybe I’ll get that.”

Taking a big step away from me, he scrunched up his nose while we waited for the light to turn. “Are you serious? Mint choc-chip shouldn’t even be a flavor. If that’s your taste, maybe I should rethink giving you so much control over the remodel. I might end up with a pink and fluffy room after all.”

Without even thinking about it, I gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “No backsies. You said you trusted me, so trust me.”

“Yeah, but that was before I knew you liked mint choc-chip,” he teased. “That makes you a questionable character to my mind.”

“What’s your flavor then? I’ll pause here to say that if it’s lime, we don’t even need to discuss the remodel further. I’ll just take total control over the decision-making and you can go sit in a corner and seriously contemplate your choices in life.”

“I wasn’t going to say lime, but now I’m tempted to. Chocolate is my flavor. Chocolate or pistachio. A good vanilla is always great, too.”

“Chocolate or vanilla? How very exciting,” I joked. “The pistachio is the only thing that redeems you a little.”

“Really? Mint-choc chip makes you adventurous somehow?” Laughing as we crossed the street, he doubled over when we reached the stand and his favorites were the only ones on offer. “Looks like you’re going to have to settle for boring today.”