Those Three Words: A Single Dad, Billionaire Boss Romance(55)

I swat her ass and push her toward her door before bounding up the stairs to the third floor. My excitement is through the roof.

It’s been two days since our first night together. I haven’t pushed Margot to stay in my bed again. We also haven’t slept together again. I figured some space might be good for her.

I sent Eleanor to her grandmother’s house tonight. She’s spending the night there so Margot and I can have a date night. When I told my mother that bit of information, she pointed her manicured finger in my face and threatened to take me off the face of the earth if I hurt Margot or break her heart.

Apparently the two of them have grown quite fond of each other, something I find both endearing and a little worrisome should they decide to gang up on me. Meredith and my mother got along very well, but I wouldn’t say they were close. Meredith was very busy early on and she missed out on a lot of family stuff. After we were married, they both spent some time together, but they were too alike, both very type A, had to be in control women who didn’t like to relinquish power. It never made for anything uncomfortable but there wasn’t a kindredness between them like there is with her and Margot.

I think my mom wanted to mother Meredith, but Meredith was already grown and kicking ass by the time she was ten years old. Her own mother once said that she never felt like she raised so much as grew up alongside her.

Margot, on the other hand, doesn’t have her parents and my mom never had a daughter.

I change out of my suit and pull on a pair of dark jeans, a plaid button-down, and matching brown boots and a belt. I splash on a little more cologne and give myself a once-over in the mirror.

I’m nervous. Actually nervous. I don’t think I’ve felt this way since I had to perform a solo in the church choir when I was nine. I let out a deep breath and make my way back to Margot’s room, seven minutes ahead of schedule.

“Oh my God.” She smiles as I knock and enter her room. “I can’t believe you’re in jeans.” She walks over to me, completely circling me like she’s sizing me up.

“That a bad thing?”

“No, no. Trust me, this is a very good look.” Her eyes rake down my body and back up, instantly putting ideas in my head.

“So is this.” I reach out and grab the bottom of her ass cheek peeking out from the tiny shorts she’s wearing. “I know I said casual, but goddamn, baby.” I grab a handful this time, pulling her body against my firming erection.

“No, of course not.” She swats my hand away, but I tug her harder against me. “You said fifteen minutes.”

“I couldn’t wait,” I pant as I jerk her shorts and panties down her thighs. “I need a taste.” I drop down to my knees, burying my nose in her mound.

“Ahh, we’ll be late.” Her plea doesn’t sound very convincing.

“You want me to stop?” I ask as I look up at her, rubbing the pad of my thumb in little circles over her glistening clit.

She looks behind her, the bed only a few inches away. She falls back on it, kicking her shorts and panties to the side to give me better access.

“Good girl,” I say before leaning forward and devouring her.





“Oh my God.” Her hands cover her mouth as we pull up in front of the bowling alley, Lincoln Lanes.

I lace my fingers through hers as we exit the car and make our way across the parking lot.

“I thought for our second date, we could do something special.” I drape my arm around her shoulders. “Also, I want to see how competitive you are.”

“Care to make it interesting?” she asks. “Winner gets to choose the third date.”

“A bet? I’ll take those odds. Good to know there’s already talk of a third date.” I nuzzle her hair. “But I’ll just go ahead and stick to the plans I already had for our third date, since I’ll win hands down.”

“Umm, I’ve been bowling since I was seven years old.” She slips out from under my arm and points her fingers at me. “Prepare to lose.”

I open the door and we step inside, the scent of stale popcorn and cheap beer filling the air.

We pick up our shoes and I pay for two games along with a pitcher of beer and their “deluxe platter” which includes a bevy of questionable fried foods.

“I’m a little uneasy about sticking my fingers in these used balls and then eating.” I lace my shoes and watch as Margot grabs a chicken finger and takes a bite.

She shrugs. “It’s part of the experience, Graham. Shitty food that probably has a ten-year shelf life, even shittier beer, and eighties music. It’s what we used to call a Midwest night out in the sticks.”

We both laugh as she grabs her ball, pulling it up to her chin and squinting her eyes to line up the shot. She takes two steps forward, pulling her arm back and letting it loose. It flies perfectly down the center of the lane, hitting the middle pin square on the nose and sending them all to the ground.

“A strike on the first bowl?”

“Told ya, old man.” She winks as she saunters back to the booth and takes a swig of her beer.

I’m in trouble. She’s in her element and she’s about to wipe my ass with the floor.





“It wasn’t even close, but it’s okay. You didn’t stand a chance.” She sits on my lap, her arms wrapped around me as we look up at the screen and see our scores.