Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)(59)
“Five,” I answered with a smile before taking a sip of my water. I’d been watching out for her and soaking in all the entertainment she offered. I, myself, hadn’t had a drop, content to get to know Sean and be the designated driver.
A lot of men would be upset watching, but I didn’t get the point. She was enjoying herself, and I was here to make sure she did it safely. I certainly never thought she’d be grinding on some old guy, but I never wanted a woman I could predict.
I was also very rationally aware of the plethora of attention she’d been getting from young guys, guys she’d actually entertain the idea of dating, and she hadn’t paid a single one any attention. Even in the throes of her drunken good time, she respected me. That’s all I needed. A wild woman I could trust.
The rare combination had seemed damn near impossible to find until now.
Her phone buzzed in her purse on my shoulder, so I pulled it out and read the drunken text message thread she had going with an unsuspecting Kline.
And yes, I said on my shoulder. You should know by now I have very little shame.
Cassie: Get 25% off onesies this Sunday at Carter’s by subscribing now. Text NO to opt out of messages.
Kline: NO
Cassie: No baby? No problem! Text YES to subscribe to deals from our sister company, Trojan. Text NO to opt out of messages.
Kline: NO. Take my number off your list!
My eyes went back to my genius girlfriend. I knew Kline was too smart to let this go on forever without paying someone to hack Verizon, but I was enjoying it while it lasted.
Sean pulled my attention away from the sway of Cassie’s hips as she bumped and grinded into the older guy and back to him. “I like you for her.”
“Huh?” I asked as though I couldn’t hear him over the noise even though I’d heard him just fine. I wanted him to elaborate.
He knew I’d heard, but he smirked and humored me anyway.
“Cassie is a certain kind of girl. She gets bored easily, needs the thrill of a dance with some f*cking grandpa and the freedom to drink however much she wants. But I usually worry about her while she’s doing it, wondering who’s got her back. I like that I won’t have to wonder anymore.”
I liked it too.
“You won’t,” I promised, and he nodded.
Somehow I’d passed Cassie’s twenty-one-year-old brother’s test. It wasn’t exactly the entrance exam to NASA, but right then, to me, it felt even better.
My eyes fluttered open as the Oregon sun filtered in through the windowpanes of my childhood bedroom. The warmth of a large body enveloping mine had me peeking out of one eye to survey my surroundings. Thatch was curled around me—one hand holding my boob, while his head used my chest as a pillow.
His handsome face looked so young, blissfully unaware and deep in sleep. His dark lashes rested softly against his cheeks as soft breaths puffed out from his lips. I ran my fingers through the messy strands of his jet-black hair as I tried to recount last night’s events.
One thing was certain; I had definitely danced and drunk my ass off. It had been an all-in kind of night, and I had forced Sean and Thatch to close the bar down with me, even demanding Taco Bell on the drive home. Good thinking, Cassie. That fast food had probably saved me from a morning of praying to the porcelain gods.
Thatch stirred in his sleep. His foggy, dark eyes met mine.
“Good morning,” I said with a soft smile.
“Morning, honey,” he said in a raspy voice, but he didn’t move his head from my chest. Both of his hands were now holding on to my boobs and squeezing them playfully. “Mmm,” he moaned. “I need to add a new rule. Number fifty-one. These tits are my pillows.”
I laughed and flicked his forehead with my index finger.
“Ow, f*ck,” he responded through a laugh. “What was that for?”
“I’m about to revoke your rule-making rights. You’ve made over twelve rules in the past forty-eight hours.”
He peeked up at me through sleepy eyes. “Rule number fifty-two. You can never revoke my rule-making rights.”
I grinned and decided to add a rule of my own. “Rule number fifty-three. If one of us has to be the designated driver, it will always be you.”
He chuckled. “I’ll actually agree to that one.”
I quirked a brow in surprise. “Really?”
“I think I have more fun watching you get drunk and wild than I actually do getting blitzed myself.”
“That’s crazy talk,” I refuted. “No one likes being the sober person dealing with a drunken idiot.”
“Yeah, but you’re an exception. You’re my favorite drunken idiot.”
A few giggles slipped past my lips, and his smile turned wide and blinding in response. He rested his chin on my chest and gazed up at me. His eyes were so endearing—full of zero pretense or judgment—and their dark depths revealed that every word coming out of his mouth was the truth.
“You took care of me last night, didn’t you?”
He shrugged. “I kept an eye on things, but I mostly just sat back, chatted with Sean, and let you do your thing. Did you have fun last night?”
I was with you. Of course, I had fun.
“I did,” I answered with a nod. “What about you?”