Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)(72)

He lifted our little piggy above his head and put him into my arms.

Phil squealed in protest, but I slipped him inside the front of my shirt and held on tight to comfort him. “It’s okay,” I soothed. “I’ve got ya, little buddy.”

Eventually, his squeals stopped, and he peeked his little head out above my neckline. He sniffed the air a few times and snorted his content, inside the warmth and safety of my shirt.

“That’s the cutest f*cking thing I’ve ever seen,” Thatch said as he held his phone in front of us, catching all three of our faces in the shot. His gaze met mine in the screen and those chocolate eyes of his glimmered with affection. “Smile, honey,” he said as his lips curled into a handsome smile.

I smiled.

Phil snorted.

Snap. And just like that, our happy little moment had been recorded.

Forever unchanged. Just like your growing feelings for this beautiful, charming, perfect-for-you man…well, five minutes ago you would have thought perfect-for-you *.

“All right,” Thatch announced as he moved back toward the path and held my thighs tightly to his shoulders. “Let’s hit it.”

With pep in his step and occasional grinning glances in mine and Phil’s direction, Thatch finished the last two miles of the race just like that—me on his shoulders and our teacup pig in my T-shirt. And beyond that, he did it with ease. The second he crossed the finish line, he pulled me off his shoulders and put his lips to mine. His breathing wasn’t even labored.

Fuck, that man had some serious stamina.




An hour later, we were stuffed full of waffles and settled on a park bench—Phil asleep on my chest, while my legs were stretched out and rested in Thatch’s lap. I watched him watch the people meandering by, his eyes following their Saturday paths with nothing but mild curiosity.

He untied my laces and slipped off my shoes and socks, leaving my feet bare beneath the late morning sun. His fingers kneaded into my soles and started their talented course of finding all of the sensitive spots that ached from the run.

A soft moan fell from my lips, and his gaze met mine.

“Feel good?”

“So good.”

He grinned.

“You know, you’re a really good boyfriend,” I admitted. Even though our relationship had an undertone of pranks and jokes and relentless teasing, Thatch was a good boyfriend. I knew I wasn’t an expert by any means when it came to relationships, but beneath that wicked sense of humor, he was thoughtful and caring and sweet. So f*cking sweet sometimes I wondered if I’d get a stomachache from sugar overload.

His brow rose in question.

“I mean, look at you,” I said, nodding toward his hands on my feet. “You’re rubbing my gross feet after I just ran like fifty miles.”

“You’re feet aren’t gross.” He plucked one of my hot-pink painted toes with his index finger and thumb. “They’re cute.”

I wiggled my toes. He chuckled.

“And you only ran a mile. Mile and a half, tops,” he added with an amused grin. “I ran more than half of the race with you and Phil on my shoulders.”

“But I ran the hardest part of the trail. There were more hills on the first end.”

Yeah, that was a lie. They weren’t any hills.

He winked. “Of course, you did, honey.”

I wiggled my toes again. “So who taught you how to be a good boyfriend? Your last girlfriend was in high school, right? What was her name?”

“Yes.” He paused briefly and then started kneading at the balls of my feet. “Her name was Margo.”

“How long did you guys date?”

“A little over a year.”

“Why did you break up?”

“We didn’t.” He turned on the bench to face me. “She died at the end of our senior year.”

Whoa. That had been unexpected. In the past, before Thatch, I would’ve shied away from going further with this conversation and tried to lighten the tone, but I didn’t want to do that.

“Wow, Thatch…I’m so sorry…I don’t really know what else to say.”

“It was a long time ago,” he reassured. “When it happened, of course, I was devastated. But as time passed, and wounds healed, I knew that my relationship with Margo was a huge part of my life because of the way it ended, not because of the actual relationship we had. We were both young, wild, and selfish. If she had lived, and every day I wish she had, I know Margo and I wouldn’t have been sitting here together on this park bench. I just wish she could have had the opportunity to spread her wings and really fly, really find herself.”

My heart grew two sizes bigger inside my chest. There were so many facets to Thatch’s personality, so many tiny particulars and huge guarantees, but underneath all of that charming swagger and good-natured sense of humor was a good man. The best man.

I reached out my hand and grabbed his, squeezing it gently.

He smiled softly in response. My lips mimicked his, and I didn’t try to stop the permeating affection from showing beneath my eyes. I wanted him to know I cared. I wanted him to know he was easily becoming my whole world.

Phil snorted in my lap. His little eyes peeked open and glanced around the outside oasis.

Thatch grinned down at him and then his eyes met mine again, “Ready to go home?”