THE BILLIONAIRE'S BABY (A Secret Baby Romance) (31 page)

Mel

I rushed home Thursday afternoon to shower and change for my date with Will. He’d texted me earlier and told me to dress casually. I chose a pair of jeans and a diaphanous top with a similarly colored tank underneath for modesty’s sake. Again, he hadn’t told me what we were doing or where we were going, but in Texas, jeans and boots were a good choice for any casual evening.

I sat at my table with my laptop, my phone playing the music he had paid for, checking my email. My mom had been bugging me about coming home for a weekend, even though I had been there right before school started. More than a million times, I had reminded her that I couldn’t get away during football season. Thanksgiving was truly the first break I would have. Again, I answered her email with this reasoning, knowing full well when I called her this weekend, as I always did, she would bug me about it.

I pressed
send
just as Will’s knock sounded on my door. I hurried to open it without turning off my music so he could hear that I had downloaded his list of songs.

“Hello, handsome,” I said in my best sexy voice.

“Hello, beautiful,” he replied. He stepped inside and pushed me against the wall, his mouth attacking mine. Our tongues danced together, and my arms linked around his neck as his hands clasped behind my back. His hips pressed into mine, and I could feel his cock pressing into me. I wanted him immediately and wondered if I’d get him tonight.

When our lips separated and he stepped back, I murmured, “Wow.”

“I’ve been dying to do that since Monday,” he told me.

“Do we have to go out?” I asked somewhat facetiously. If he crooked his finger at me, I’d be naked in an instant, though I didn’t say that out loud.

Will pretended to consider. “Well, I’m kind of hungry. Want to cook for me?”

“Ew, no. I don’t like to cook,” I replied, a grimace on my face.

“I do, so we’re perfect for each other,” he answered with a grin. “Why don’t you come to my house Saturday? I’ll cook you a fantastic dinner.”

My heart beat a little faster, and I smiled broadly. “I’d love that.”

He hadn’t stepped away during our conversation, and after my answer, he began kissing my jaw and throat, murmuring sweet phrases to me. “I’ll send Cara to a friend’s house or her grandparent’s house so we can have the place to ourselves.”

“I like that idea,” I whispered in reply, tilting my head more so he could kiss my pulse, which I knew was jumping like mad. Before I could make a fool out of myself, I pushed him away. “If you keep that up, we’ll be breaking in my new bed.”

He wiggled his eyebrows at me. “I like the sound of that, but I told my pals I’d bring you to the bar so they could meet you.”

“What?” I asked, the anxiety caused by that statement killing my arousal. “You’re introducing me to your friends?”

“Just a couple of them. You’ll know a lot of the people there,” he told me carelessly, as if this was no big deal.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. He opened the door for me and slapped my ass as I walked past. I turned back and ran my fingers over his crotch. “Don’t tempt me, buddy.”

He shivered. “Good God, woman. You may just be the love of my life.”

“You joke, but I think you may be right.” I said this with confidence. The feelings this man stirred in my heart were brand new for me, but I knew what they were. I was falling in love with him.

He looked in my eyes, holding my gaze while we stood on my porch. His smile slowly spread across his face, and he leaned in and kissed me lovingly. “I sure hope you’re not seeing anybody else, Mel. Because I know I’m not.”

“I’m not, Will. I only want to date you,” I replied seriously. I kissed him again, wrapping my arms around him. This kiss was sweet, lovely, and lasting. The arousal was still there, but the love was blooming as well.

Will pulled back and slipped my keys out of my hand so he could lock my door. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Me too, except for this whole meeting-your-friends thing you’re springing on me,” I replied as I grabbed his hand so we could walk to the car together. “Where are we going?”

“Squirrel’s. Certainly you’ve been there.”

Squirrel’s was a bar in Brayman where all the locals hung out. The place was also a restaurant, and when we had teacher workdays, several of us would eat lunch there. On Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, the owners invited bands to come play, mostly local groups. Although I’d been invited by some of the teachers who lived in Brayman, I had never gone at night.

“Um, I’ve gone for lunch but never at night. Drinking in front of the parents of my students is kind of awkward,” I told him with a little shrug.

“You drink in front of me,” he teased, poking my side.

“You’ve also seen me naked. None of my other parents have,” I reminded him as he opened the truck door for me.

“That you know of,” he said with a grin.

“Whatever.”

As he climbed into the driver’s side, he asked, “Is it okay if we go there? If you’re uncomfortable, we can go elsewhere.”

“None of my students work there?”

“Well, I can’t promise that, but you’re an adult. As long as you don’t get wasted and fall over a table or flash the audience, I think you’ll be okay.”

I smiled at him. “Ah, college.”

***

Squirrel’s looked like any bar you might find in a small town. The exterior was wooden with a tin roof. Rather than the typical door, the place was equipped with two garage doors open during business hours when the weather was nice for patrons to walk through. When it was too hot or too cold, the doors were closed and a regular door at the end of the building was used. Inside, the wooden bar took up the entire center of the place, and tables were situated all the way around. The floors were scarred from years of use but as clean as any restaurant. The small stage was at the back of the bar, with a dance floor the size of my bedroom immediately in front of it.

My stomach jolted when we walked through the doors. Every eye turned to the door, and several people called out greetings to Will. A couple people recognized me and smiled, but I knew none of them well. A few heads tilted together, and I knew they were talking about the fact that Will and I were here together.

I looked at him, and he smiled at me. “Yes, they’re probably talking about us, but don’t worry about it.”

My lips thinned at his nonchalant response. “What is there to talk about? We’re both adults, both single.”

“Ah, yes, but we’re in a small town. They have to find a story in everything,” Will reminded me as we found an unoccupied table. “They’ll lose interest quickly. There’s not enough drama in our relationship.”

I hummed in non-agreement. “Where are your friends?”

Will looked around and lifted a hand, and two men headed in our direction. Will rose, smiling, and shook hands with both. I stood as well, unsure. “Guys, this is Mel Ulrich. She’s a teacher at the high school.”

“And your new girlfriend, huh?” one of the men asked, smiling at me, his dimples drawing my eyes.

“Mel, this asshole here is Clint Cappers.” He gestured to the other man. “And this handsome devil is Matt Paulson.”

I shook hands with both men. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Same. We’ll let you enjoy your meal before the music starts,” Clint said, his grin still in place.

“Hope you’ll stick around for a while, Mel. We’d like to get to know the gal who got this guy out of his house,” Matt said.

“It was hard to do, but I have my ways,” I replied with a wink and a smile. The men laughed and slapped Will on the back before returning to their own tables. I noticed both sat down with women. “Am I going to meet their wives?”

Will glanced over his shoulder and shrugged. “I didn’t know they were here. I’ll introduce you later.”

I nodded, frowning. As little as I knew about living in a small town, since I was from Lubbock, I did know one thing—the women could be vicious. I glanced at them again, catching the eye of Matt’s wife, who smiled and waved at me. I returned the gesture, hoping that meant positive feelings from at least one of them.

After we’d been served our incredibly tasty dinner, the duo on the stage began to play. Will took my hand and smiled, and we listened to their music. They played some originals, which were good, and they played some covers, which I sang along to if I knew the words. At one point, Will leaned over and promised we’d go to karaoke again, and I laughed, thinking a repeat of our first meeting would be neat.

When the two began playing
The Chair,
by George Strait, I grabbed his hand and dragged him to the dance floor, where several other couples were already two-stepping. “This is my favorite George song. I always dance to it if I have a partner.”

He smiled down at me as he pulled me into his arms in a perfect two-step rhythm. “I’ll dance every dance with you if you’ll let me.” In my ear, for only me to hear, he began singing the words in a lovely baritone.

My heart swooned, which was corny but true. The man had a tremendous voice, could dance like a country Gene Kelly and, if my instincts were on, was falling in love with me as fast as I was falling in love with him. I looked up at him, our eyes met, and I knew I was right. The love was there, in his eyes, and I hoped he could see it shining out of mine.

I giggled. “I feel like we’re in a country song.”

“Why’s that?”

I shook my head, giggling again. “Because of my thoughts, which, for now, are my secret.”

Will’s knowing smile shone off his face. “I bet we’re having similar thoughts, Mel.” He leaned down and kissed me, our feet moving automatically to the rhythm of my favorite song. This kiss matched the sweetness of the one we’d shared earlier, and my heart dropped into the place it was supposed to be—with him.

A chorus of whoops and yells sounded behind us, and we broke apart. His friends and a few others I hadn’t met yet were cheering us on. My face reddened, but Will threw up his arm and yelled, “You like that? Watch this!” He put one arm at my waist behind my back and dipped me over, eliciting a squeal from me. He planted a theatrical kiss on my mouth, with the loud smacking noise and everything, before setting me on my feet again.

The cheering continued, and not to be outdone, I took his hand and made a bow. The crowd burst into laughter, and I felt as if I’d been accepted by his group. Will laughed, too, and we returned to our table. The duo on the stage took a break, and the chatter around the room escalated to a much louder pitch.

Will and I leaned together, talking quietly, when the woman I recognized as Denise stepped up to our table, beer in hand. I glanced up at her and saw that her tits were nearly falling out of her top. Clearly, those weren’t real. Her frame was too small for the cantaloupe-sized ridiculousness under her shirt. Her face was pretty, and she enhanced it perfectly with cosmetics, a trick I had never learned. The only thing marring her beauty was the nasty gleam in her eyes as she watched Will.

Without acknowledging my presence, she said, “Hey there, handsome. Why did you ignore my texts?”

My eyebrows lifted in question, and he pursed his lips in annoyance before answering. “Hello, Denise. Your texts asked questions that didn’t require answers, as far as I was concerned.”

Rather than be insulted, she laughed and leaned closer to him. “Now, Will, I thought we were still friends. I was just checking up on you.”

“You were just being nosy,” he replied, his voice pitched for friendliness. He gestured to me. “You know Mel, right? Your daughter and mine are on her dance team.”

She glanced at me briefly, coldly, without speaking, and returned her gaze to Will. “Yes. So, what are you doing this weekend? My mom asked me about you just the other day and would love for me to bring you to dinner.”

My mouth nearly dropped open at her blunt rudeness and arrogance. Clearly, Will and I were on a date, and she was asking him to go to her mother’s. Fury seethed in my brain, and I answered before he could.

“Actually, Denise,” her name came out of my mouth almost as a curse, “Will and I have plans all weekend.”

She spared me more than a glance. She glared at me. “Don’t you have a game tomorrow night?”

“I do, but so does your daughter. I’m sure you wouldn’t miss one of her games,” I replied, insinuating that I knew, for a fact, that the woman missed as many games as she attended. Brittani’s father, however, always managed to make it.