Billionaire's Single Mom

She pulled the cloches off the plates. She’d brought eggs, bacon, toast, pastries…a little of everything.

“I thought I’d find you asleep again,” she said, nibbling at a croissant.

“I’m trying something new,” I said. “I’m not really as tired anymore. It’s great.”

“That’s good news.”

“Mm-hmm, now you can get off my back for sleeping so much.”

“That’s only a bad thing when we have somewhere to go,” she laughed.

“Did you have somewhere in mind?”

“Nope,” she said. “I think we’re running out. Did you want to go somewhere specific?”

“Yes. I want to take you out,” I said.

“Where?”

“Dinner. I made us a reservation.”

“You don’t need to make reservations here; you’re a guest.”

“Not at the resort. It’s a surprise,” I said, smirking.

“That’s my line,” she said, smiling. “I thought I was the tour guide here.”

“You’re off duty today. We can leave around ten.”

“That’s a little late for dinner,” she remarked.

“Not tonight. In a couple hours. I love those shorts on you, but you can’t wear them where we’re going,” I said.

“Where is it? Now you have to tell me. Is it somewhere fancy?” she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, eating my breakfast. The tables were turned now. She used to drive me crazy not telling me where we were going when she’d take me out. She waited for me to g

et ready, and I called a car to take us into the city.

This wasn’t LA. We weren’t exactly spoiled for choice when it came to places to shop, but that was sort of a good thing. I didn’t know how Abby would be in a boutique, but just in case she was one of those girls who didn’t know when to stop when you gave her a credit card, it was good there were just a few places we could go.

But really, I owed her so much more than a dress and some fucking shoes. I wouldn’t stop her if she really wanted to cut loose. She deserved it. She had put up with my ass without a single complaint for weeks now. She definitely deserved it.

“What are we doing here?” she asked, when we got to the store.

“The place we’re going tonight has a dress code,” I said, holding the door open for her. “I want you to get something.”

“I can’t afford this place, Nate.”

“It’s on me. Pick whatever you want,” I said. She ran her hand down a dress hanging on a rack to her right, sighing.

“You don’t need to do all this. Taking me out somewhere is already too much,” she said.

“I want to, Abby. Just let me do this for you. I want to.”

She bit her lip, thinking. “Just one. The cheapest they have.”

“A whole outfit. Shoes and accessories, too. Budget is unlimited.”