Scoring the Billionaire (Billionaire Bad Boys 3)

I shoved his shoulder. “I do not!”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, you do,” he answered far too quickly, smug smirk in place. “You also do that little lip-biting thing when you’re begging me to,” he added, and a low, sexy whistle followed suit.

“Begging? Why’s Mommy begging?” Lexi chimed in.

I rolled my eyes at Wes and little ears, but he just laughed it off, far too amused with himself. “Mommy is begging for me to take you guys to get hot chocolate at Serendipity 3 after the game.”

Her eyes lit up like Christmas lights. “With marshmallows?”

“I don’t know…” he replied with a gentle smirk. “Let’s make a deal. If Mommy promises to whistle with me later, we’ll do hot chocolate, marshmallows, and donuts.”

Lexi’s eyes moved straight to me. “Promise Wes you’ll whistle with him, Mommy! Pretty please! Promise, Mommy! Promise!”

I elbowed Wes in the stomach and felt a little satisfaction when I heard a tiny whoosh of air leave his lips.

Of course, three seconds later, he was back to laughing. And I’d tried so hard for lasting damage.

Coach Sanderson blew his whistle from the center of the field and motioned for the team to head toward him. “Let’s get ready to have some fun!” he exclaimed with a hearty laugh and smile.

Within seconds, a pack of tiny football players ran out toward him excitedly.

To my surprise, Wes took Lexi by the hand and walked out with her. I stood back and watched in awe as he kneeled beside her in the team huddle. One last talk between the two of them, and she was ready to play. Her football helmet shielded her expression from my view, but I couldn’t miss the huge, proud smile on Wes’s face.

He came back to my side and linked his fingers with mine, but his eyes never, not once, left her, even when she was doing nothing more than standing patiently on the sideline.

I knew exactly what Wes was to me—to us. And there was no doubt that it scared the fucking shit out of me.

We hadn’t ever fallen for someone so hard.

Two hours and several frozen appendages later, we were sitting at a small, bistro-sized table inside of a very crowded Serendipity 3. Winters in New York often brought tourists from all over the place to the iconic restaurant, and today was no different. But I didn’t give a flying flip. It was warm, and I had a fucking huge mug of their famous frozen hot chocolate in front of me. Chocolatey goodness in every gulp, I alternated sucking it through a straw and scooping out big, heaping portions by the spoonful.

“She was so awesome out there today,” Wes mooned, looking across the table at Lex. Her nose was buried in his phone, watching some type of YouTube video on advanced algebra problems, but he didn’t need her return attention. Much like me, he’d become completely content just to look at each other.

I’m sure it’s nauseating for outsiders.

“A lot of that was thanks to you,” I said. “You’ve made things so much easier for her by helping her through every step of the season.

A soft smile lifted the corners of his mouth, and his eyes lit up like he was a little boy himself. “I’m having the time of my life, Win. This is what it’s about, you know? This is the reason I love football.”

I nodded.

“She’s done such a good job of adjusting too. It’s not easy being the only little girl on a team filled with rowdy boys.”

I laughed and nodded. “Truer words have never been spoken.”

His voice turned giddy. “She’s on a team full of little warriors. I can’t wait to see her play in the championship game. That team from the Bronx is no joke.”

“What, have you been scouting the Pop Warner teams?” I asked incredulously.

He scoffed and tipped his head to Lexi. “Come on. You had to know we were going to do our research.”

“And your research says the Bronx kids are bruisers?”

He nodded excitedly, and I groaned. “Okay, maybe I’m not as okay with it as I thought I was.”

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, Fred. She’ll do just fine.”

I rolled my eyes at the nickname. Stupid nickname. It probably shouldn’t have made my heart beat speed up at the mere mention of it. I had to take a sip of my frozen hot chocolate just to distract myself from the frantic pace.

“Have you told her dad about football yet?”

I shook my head. “No. I haven’t talked to him since she started.”

He didn’t exactly look surprised because it wasn’t like Nick had been around in all the time that Wes had, but he still asked, “Is that normal?”

I nodded and rolled my eyes before lowering my voice to a nearly silent volume. Lexi was preoccupied, but she still heard everything. “Nick is very much an absent father.”

“Has it always been that way?”

“Yes,” I admitted. “From the very start, it’s always been that way. He didn’t try for a while and then figure out he couldn’t do it. He knew from the moment I told him the news, he wasn’t ready to try.”

He stretched his mouth into a tight line. “So, you’ve been doing this on your own from the very start?”

“Well…yeah,” I answered with a shrug. It was all I knew as normal. That’s why I had such a hard time accepting this version of Wes as real. “I’ve always had my family, though. There is no way in hell I could’ve finished med school and residency without my mom or crazy brothers. Remy, especially.”

His face hardened at the mention of Remy, and I laughed. “I know, hard to believe with his offensive demeanor and all. But Lex is probably the only person who knows how many licks it takes to get to the center of his lollipop heart.”

He stared at me in awe. “You’re really something, you know? Kind of like a real-life superhero. Maybe it’s weird to be proud of you,” he said with a cringe. “But I am. I’m proud of everything you’ve accomplished and everything you’ve done and do for your daughter. She’s lucky to have you as her mother.”

“Thank you.” I couldn’t not blush at his sincere, sweet words. I felt like every day I was seeing a new side of Wes. And every day, I fell for each of those sides. God, I had to concentrate on talking again, thinking about each goddamn word individually, so powerful was his ability to consume me. “But I should say that I learned from the best.”

He tilted his head to the side in confusion.

“I used to date Clark Kent. Well, Henry Cavill, but I figured that’s the next best thing. It’s a shame I just couldn’t find the time to return his phone calls. He’s very needy.”

Wes smirked. “Poor Cavill.”

“I know, right?” I laughed. “I actually meant my mother. My dad just up and left one day. It came out of nowhere, and all of a sudden, he just didn’t want to be a part of our family anymore. And somehow, despite the pain and heartbreak she went through, she managed to pick up the pieces and give all five of her children a good life.”

“Wendy Winslow is a saint.”

“Yeah, she really is. If you think I’m strong, she’s even stronger than me.”

“I know how strong both of you are,” he said with obvious pride in his voice. “I’ve seen you in action. Busting balls and taking names with a bunch of overgrown kids dressed in professional football uniforms. No other woman on earth could’ve walked into that locker room and handled those cocky sons of bitches as well as you did from the start—except maybe your mother. She’s basically commanding a locker room every time your brothers get together.”

“All four miscreants were good training, that’s for sure.”

He grinned. “I’m sure it was a little of that, but it was also just because you’re fearless Winnie Winslow. The take-charge woman who attacked me near a vending machine in a hotel in Miami.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh, get over yourself. That was all you. You started it.”

Wes laughed. “I’m pretty sure you started it, sweetheart. I’ve got detailed mental notes.”

No way…he started it.

Oh, who was I kidding? We both started it. For months, everything we apparently biologically knew was right for us in the other had nagged and poked and pushed until the tension was so high we’d all but attacked one another in front of a vending machine in Miami. And…it seemed we hadn’t really stopped.

Only now, we’d developed hand signals and whistles to discuss our pervy desires in front of my daughter.

I just had to hope Wes wouldn’t grow tired of that. He’d lived fast and loud, but people did change. They could grow. They just had to have a reason.

But could Lex and I really be the reason for Wes?

“How was Lex at practice?” I asked Winnie as I unbuttoned my suit jacket and sank into the car to go to dinner with the enemy.

Jerry Townsend owned the Baltimore Bengals, and we were one hundred percent not each other’s favorite people. But he had something—someone—I wanted, and the chance of getting Andre Bodville, one of the best, yet underrated, left tackles in the league, was worth the gamble—and the torture of our meeting. Nothing would be effective until postseason was over, but other than pretty much every regular facet of my life, I couldn’t deny my belief in the early bird getting the worm. And I wanted this fucking worm really badly.