Scoring the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys 3)

Jesus. I wasn’t Satan, for fuck’s sake.

And I loved them. Both of them. They could do worse than me.

Angry, I told Kline and Thatch that. “I’m not that bad, you know. I love them. Christ, I could be fucking no-good-Nick, having it all, and throwing it all away, even though they constantly gave me chances.”

Kline bit his lip and then shook his head. “No, you’re right. You’re too busy for them. You can’t be there the way they need you to be.”

“I can be there,” I protested.

“You missed that game,” Thatch pointed out, and I faltered. I had. I’d missed it, and goddamn, the disappointment in their voices and in Winnie’s disgusted eyes still made me feel sick when I thought about it.

But I could do better. I had the money to slow down. I didn’t have to be here every second of every day.

“I could take a step back from stuff.”

Kline looked skeptical.

“I could,” I affirmed.

“Well, I mean, if you think you could,” he said in half-assed agreement.

“I could. And anytime I couldn’t be there, I could send one of you guys. I could make sure they always had someone.”

“You’re right,” Kline agreed, and I paused.

Jesus. Reverse-psychology-wielding motherfucker.

“Stop being so goddamn clever,” I demanded.

“He’s good, huh?” Thatch said with a chuckle.

Fuck. Two minutes with this guy and he’d managed to rework my entire line of thinking. But he was so good, he didn’t tell me the way it was; he made me figure it out all on my goddamn own.

“You know, I’m pretty sure I actually helped you fuckers when you needed it instead of putting you through this fucking bullshit.”

“But I thought you didn’t want a relationship like we have?” Thatch teased.

“Fuck you guys.”

“We love you too,” Thatch said mock-sweetly.

Even though Kline had helped guide me to realization, I still wasn’t sure how I could right the awful wrong. How could I get Winnie to forgive after I had done what every other man had done in her and Lex’s life?

It truly was the fuck-up of all fuck-ups in the history of fuck-ups.

I’d hurt her—them—in the absolute worst way.

And honestly, I wasn’t sure how in the hell I could fix that…

January had bled into February, and now March was in full swing. Remnants of dirt-covered snow—probably piss-covered, too—rested against the edges of the streets, and it took a whole lot of effort to get my favorite black suede pumps into the building without a tragedy of epic stiletto proportions.

Tonight, I was attending a Children’s Hospital charity function at Apella. The sleek and modern reception venue was decked out in a kids’-style circus theme. Tables were covered in bright cloths, mimicking the appearance of a clown’s costume, and the spacious room was encased in a gorgeous red tent that hung from the ceiling. The ambiance all but screamed, I’m whimsical and entertaining.

If only I felt as upbeat. For two straight months, my insides had been feeling like perpetual night. I waited and waited for time to heal my Wes-inflicted wounds, but the goddamn sun never rose.

Attendees littered the room, chatting animatedly with one another as I headed in the direction of our assigned table with Scott Shepard, my date for the evening. I’d known Scott for years, having attended med school together at Yale, done the same surgical rotation at Mount Sinai, and even worked together at St. Luke’s for about three years before I had left to work for the Mavericks.

He was an all-around good guy. Super sweet, charming, and handsome in a slightly rugged way, and his dark hair, even darker eyes, and jawline covered in five days’ worth of scruff had a lot of female staff members at St. Luke’s begging for his attention.

But I’d never really seen him that way. We had more of a brother-sister kind of relationship, which probably had a lot to do with the fact that he reminded me of my brother Jude.

But Scott was a good friend. He had always been a good friend. And even though we didn’t speak often, I knew he was someone I could always count on. Which was why he was doing me a huge favor by being my date for the evening.

Although I’d never specialized in pediatrics, I still donated my time and money to help the Children’s Hospital raise funds and awareness for various causes, and tonight’s focus was on autism research. Obviously, it hit very close to home. I knew firsthand what it was like to have an autistic child, and I knew how much specialized programs and therapies could help families raising children on the spectrum.

“You look gorgeous tonight, Win,” Scott complimented as he pulled out my chair and helped me into my seat.

Gorgeous? I hadn’t felt gorgeous in what felt like forever.

Broken? Yes.

Sad? Of course.

But gorgeous? Maybe I was in a tragic way, I guess. But it was safe to say, ever since Wes had broken my heart, it took a lot of effort to have an outward appearance of put together and okay. I was still so far from okay that no high-tech navigation system or Siri herself could help guide me back at this stage in the heartbreak game.

I smoothed my hands down my simple yet classic black silk gown and forced a grin in his direction as he sat beside me. “You’re not looking so bad yourself, Dr. Shepard,” I said with a wink.

“Oh, c’mon, Winnie. We know I always look good.”

I laughed. “Are you trying to tell me I don’t always look good?”

“Well…I’ve seen you at three a.m., half asleep and busting ass out of the call room…”

“Whatever,” I scoffed. “Just so you know, your three a.m. bedhead look isn’t exactly cover-worthy either.”

“That’s not what the nurses say,” he teased, and I rolled my eyes.

“Tell me, Scott, how do you find the time to brainwash all those girls?”

A server stopped by our table and took our drink order—wine for me and a beer for Scott—and made quick work of getting our drinks while we chatted politely with the other guests at our table. A few were also physicians we had met through various hospital and charity functions, like nearly every gathering of certified med-heads, the conversation pretty quickly dissolved into a gore-fest recounting of our most cringeworthy cases. An orthopedic attending surgeon at Mt. Sinai had just finished regaling us with tales of amputation when the waiter brought us our second round of drinks.

“I thought Lexi was coming with us?” Scott asked after taking a drink of his beer.

“I figured it’d be best if Melinda didn’t bring her by until after dinner. That way, she can enjoy the kids’ fair without having to sit through boring adult conversation.”

Scott grinned. “You calling me boring, Win?”

I laughed and shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I’ve been told I’m quite the conversationalist.”

I nudged his shoulder playfully. “Yeah. I’m sure Tammy, Sandie, Fiona and… Which charge nurse always works the night shift?”

“Samantha,” he responded immediately.

I grinned. “Oh, how could I forget Samantha? You two used to date, didn’t you?”

“If by date, you mean sneaking quickies in the call room, then sure, we used to date,” he clarified with a sly smile. If it wasn’t already apparent, Scott was a great guy but also a huge flirt. He pretty much made a show of “dating” anything with big boobs and long legs. He wasn’t the type of guy who settled down. He was still enjoying being single and having zero responsibilities related to relationships.

“Do you guys still date?”

“Occasionally.” He winked.

“Who else are you dating at St. Luke’s now?” I probed further with a teasing smile.

He waggled his brows. “Mandy.”

“I don’t remember a Mandy…”

“She’s a new physician they just hired. She’s a lot like you, actually. Mean. Demanding. A total ballbuster.”

“I’m not mean,” I said in feigned irritation, and he just chuckled softly in response.

“When shit isn’t going smoothly, you can get a little mean, Win. Especially if you haven’t had a chance to caffeinate.”

“Well, someone had to take charge. St Luke’s gets too many traumas to let chaos rule the flow.”

“That’s why I miss having you there.” He tapped my hand that rested on the table with his fingers. “You ran a tight ship without pissing everyone off. A lot of people miss you, by the way. You sure you like this whole football gig?”

“I’m sure.” I grinned and then thought more into his question. “Wait…is that why you agreed to come with me tonight? To try and lure me back to the ED.”

He shrugged. “It was part of it.”

I tilted my head to the side in curiosity. “What was the other part?”

“I was hoping you’d reward me with some Mavericks tickets.”

I laughed. “You’re a dick.”

“Hey, stop thinking about my dick, Win,” he joked playfully. “You’re like a little sister to me.”

“Gross.” I scrunched my nose up in disgust. “Don’t make me lose my appetite before they serve dinner.”

He just laughed it off and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close and kissing my temple chastely. “I’ve missed you, Win. Even though you’re kind of annoying, I’ve still missed you.”