Scoring Her (Billionaire Bad Boys 3.5)

I was pregnant.

We were pregnant.

Kline and I were finally going to have a baby.

Oh. My. God. Is this real life?

Please let this be real.

Please…Please…Please let this be real.

Heads turned as I extended my strut, striding faster and longer than any mortal would be able to keep up with—not anyone under six foot two anyway.

Ace slept soundly against my chest, the rough jar of my steps not even remotely disturbing enough for a little man in desperate need of sleep. His carrier was pretty tight around my shoulders, but I’d cut the straps apart and sewn in extensions so it fit better than before—when it hadn’t fit at all.

Okay. I paid someone to do it. I’m crafty, but no matter how hard I tried, I hadn’t been able to master a serger. And that’s what I needed—a regular sewing machine wasn’t tough enough for this job. My boy’s safety was at stake.

One trip to the best tailor in Chinatown, and our setup was fit as a fiddle. Cassie bought another one for herself when she found out, though. Said I’d “ruined hers.”

If she wasn’t so goddamn hot, with big, bountiful tits that didn’t quit, a smile that burned in my brain, and eyes that could challenge any man… Well, I’d still love her. Because being ridiculous was her. And it was me. And it was so totally us that even I feared a little what our child, the combination of the very basis of us, would become. Her insanely hot exterior was just the catalyst for my attraction—everything since then was fundamental, chemical, and completely inescapable.

Several women dressed up for either the pageant or dinner with their husbands or boyfriends or girlfriends or whatever swooned and smiled and waved their delicate but seductive hands in my direction. They mouthed “Hi” with innuendo and sexual offers and everything else the sight of a man with a baby evoked deep in the ovaries of a woman right before she exploded.

A happily married man and a father who wanted to be an example of how to treat the woman who was your everything, I turned a blind eye more than once, eventually just looking all the way down to my shoes as I put one foot in front of the other. I had to look up to inspect the path in front of me every once and a while, but by and large, not looking around my surroundings seemed to be the safest plan.

My long legs ate up the distance quickly, and before I knew it, Ace and I were in the same room with something I never thought we would be—the Miss Teen USA pageant.

“Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” Wes muttered from right inside the door, back behind the rows and rows of already seated attendees, as he caught sight of me and my boy entering the room as a unit.

We were both decked out in our best attire for the night, the finery of the satiny lapels of our tux jackets shimmering in the twinkling pageant lights.

“Did you swallow Zach Galifianakis?” Kline questioned through a smirk, his arm around his much better half. Wes and Winnie were to their left, backs to the wall, hands linked and looking aggressively in love, and Lexi kneeled behind the rows of seats and looked avidly at the stage. Ah, but it was a good feeling to have the gang all at peak contentment. The group of them was huddled together in their evening wear, but none of them had taken it to quite the suave extent that Ace and I had. Kline and Wes were both in everyday suits—fucking amateurs.

“Ace and I are one hundred percent originality,” I argued.

Sure, I was sporting a full beard, and Ace and I were protecting ourselves from the glare of the lights by wearing our sunglasses at night, but having him strapped to my chest was a matter of sheer convenience rather than a nod to the Hangover movie empire.

“You are definitely unique,” Georgia muttered, and I didn’t miss the sarcastic derision in her tone. But I was completely impenetrable by insult and offense, thanks to the sweet, sleeping baby force field in front of me.

“Where’s your wife?” Winnie asked, the first to get over me and my styling son and focus on the matter at hand—the one missing member of our group.

“She’s getting a massage.”

“What?” Georgia shrieked, waking Ace with a start.

“What?” I asked back, after taking a beat to make sure my little man wasn’t in the mood to rage. It seemed to me like some parents didn’t understand that a tantrum was sometimes necessary—kind of like their Facebook rant or Girls’ Night Out tirade—but I wasn’t like them. The human kettle needed an outlet for some of that steam; it just had to evolve with age, wisdom, and experience. At least, for me, that was my hope, what I wanted to instill in my child as a parent. Now, as an infant, Ace’s need for stress output came with wild tears, and there was no way I was going to get in the way of that. The Kellys—wild was our way. The same went for my wife and her need for a little relaxation. “She’s a new mom. She deserves a little downtime.”

“Oh my God. That’s so sweet,” Winnie murmured as Wes rolled his eyes. Kline looked to the ground as Georgia’s body shot straight into fight-mode.

“She hasn’t been watching your baby half the time!” Georgia went on. “I have!”

Did I mention that tantrums just evolve with age?

I covered Ace’s ears to shield him from her insensitivity, and he kicked his legs back and caught me in the gut. He didn’t like to be out of the know, and I couldn’t say I blamed him. Gossip didn’t build character, but it sure as hell kept life interesting. As long as it doesn’t do any harm, dip your toe in the information pool and do it often, I say.

“So why don’t you go get one too?”

I asked what I thought was an obvious question, but by the way Georgia blinked, her face clearing nearly instantly, obvious was one of those things that only existed in the eyes of the beholder. “Well…I hadn’t thought of that.”

I nodded solemnly in Kline’s direction. “It’s hard for husbands to be as good as me.”

Kline laughed as Georgia reached behind herself and clamped on to Winnie’s arm, eyes nearly manic in her demands. “Come on. We’re going.”

Winnie didn’t stand a chance as Georgia’s Vulcan claw started to drag her away.

“Wait a second!” Wes complained, and I shook my head. The prick always complained. Winnie paused briefly, but Georgia didn’t exactly take to it nicely. Winnie was like a stuffed animal stuck in the stack with the others as the little contraption pulled on it mercilessly.

“You’re not going to let them go relax?” I asked in disapproval before whispering in Ace’s ear, “Real men hold down the fort, son.”

My voice was softer than its usual boom, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t heard—and that was my intention.

“Give me a break,” Wes said with a laugh, scratching at his cheek with a pointed middle finger. “Georgia organized all of this. I’m just trying to avoid any surprises.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s all planned and rehearsed. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Oh, man. Those were famous last words if ever I’d heard them. Thank God Ace and I would be here to commentate as things went wrong.

“Do you want me to stay?” Winnie asked sweetly, and I nearly choked. How my asshole of a friend had snagged this one, I’d never know.

“No,” I answered for him before he could.

He shook his head at me, but he did it with a smile, looking around my back to Lexi.

“Hey, Lex,” he called, and her head turned to look back at us. “Come here for a second, sweetheart.”

She jumped up, jogging over to Wes and looking up at him, her little eyes doe-like and trusting. He swept her hair off her shoulder and rubbed a sweet thumb down the side of her cheek. “Your mom is going to go get a massage with Georgia. Are you okay hanging out with me?”

And that was why Winnie Winslow was with a man like Wes Lancaster. Goddamn, if I had ovaries, they would have detonated.

Lexi’s smile was bright as she nodded yes before turning to her mother. “Even though there are nearly seven hundred skeletal muscles in the body, only around two hundred are widely relevant. Your massage therapist may find clinical importance in more than the layperson, however.”

“You hear that?” I asked Ace. “Take it in, boy. That’s the kind of woman or man you want to be chasing. Intelligence is key, okay?” I thought about it as Lexi went back to her observation, and Winnie kissed Wes’s cheek like he was the best guy in the entire world—which, seeing as that guy was me, was completely false—and then clarified, “Don’t expect them all to be at her level, though. Wouldn’t want you to build unreasonable expectations.”

Wes’s face faded back to its normal ugly arrangement as Winnie and Georgia disappeared through the door, and Kline moved closer to me and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “Advising your two-month-old on the ways of the world?”

I shrugged a shoulder. “Never too early to learn.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure it’s scientifically impossible for him to retain that information at this point. Ask Lexi.”

I laughed. “Yeah, how’s that feel?”

Kline squinted in confusion. “What?”

“You used to be the smartest one in the group, no contest, but you’re really unimpressive these days.”