Tapping The Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires #1)

“Benny!” he yelled, pulling her attention from the crowd of women around her to him. “Make room on the floor. I’m coming for my dance!” The wattage of her smile was blinding.

I stood next to Wes and watched as Kline danced his way over to her, pulling her into his arms and handing off his drink to the first, unsuspecting free hand he came to so he could hold on to her with both hands. Hands to her jaw and lips to hers, he kissed her in a way that I felt all the way in my stomach.

“Good God, he’s a goner,” Wes remarked, sinking into the wall and tipping his drink to his lips.

“Yep,” I agreed, thinking about the vows they’d exchanged during the ceremony.

“It’s nice,” I added without thought—because it was.

Wes laughed way harder than I thought was appropriate. “Jesus. Who are you and what have you done with Thatcher Kelly?” He morphed his face into what he thought was a good impression of me and mocked, “It’s nice!” with a wobble of his head.

I punched him hard enough in the shoulder that he stopped laughing abruptly.

“Ow! Fuck, Thatch! Christ.”

“It is nice,” I told him again, further delving into the teachings of his lesson. “Take fucking note from your most experienced of friends. Multiple flavors of * are great, but what our fucking goner of a friend found is better.”

He looked at me like he didn’t know what to make of me.

“The two of them stood up in front of God and us and committed to each other forever with enough trust in each other to speak one another’s words rather than their own. That, motherfucker, is love.”

Powerful speech performed, lesson conveyed, I felt content with my message until Wes went and fucking ruined it.

“Jesus, fuck, The Foundry must be some sort of Twilight Zone. I don’t even know who you guys are anymore,” he teased, chuckling into his bourbon.

“One day, Lancaster, when it happens to you, I will remember this moment.” I drained the rest of my drink and walked away.




Moving away from the bulk of the crowd, I sat down at a table that was mostly empty. My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I thought it might be the tattoo shop, checking in to see if I’d be there tonight, but instead, I found a number I didn’t recognize.



Unknown: She’s a lot older than you normally go for, but it looks like you’ve got a chance.



I looked around, wondering what the fuck whoever this was was talking about. Quickly, I typed out a message.



Me: Who is this?



A reply came almost immediately.



Unknown: Your mom.



I was no less confused, but hell if I didn’t fucking laugh.



Me: WTF. Who is this?



Unknown: The hot bitch at the head table.



I looked up across the dance floor as the crowd parted in front of me. Cassie, the craziest bitch I’d ever encountered and Georgia’s maid of honor, sat all by her lonesome at the wedding party’s table, one leg cocked and her bare foot in the chair beside her. She popped her eyebrows in a mischievous challenge.

This chick had balls, sitting there by herself, just kicked back and relaxed with zero fucks given about it. Fuck, Cassie’s balls might have been bigger than mine, and that was saying something.



Me: How’d you get my number?



Unknown: I have my ways.



Cryptic. Another message came right on its heels.



Unknown: But good luck with that * tonight.



I looked at her as she raised her glass in cheers and then looked at the area around me. Not even one prospective lay stood out in the nearest twenty-foot radius.



Me: What *?



Unknown: The silver-haired cutie beside you.



I looked to my left and then to my right, and what I saw had me smiling like a lunatic. Kline’s grandma, Marylynn, sat clapping along to the heavy beat of the music and swaying back and forth. She was cute, but she was no less than eighty-five years old. I looked down to my phone and typed as quickly as my big thumbs would allow.



Me: You should be ashamed of yourself. This is Kline’s grandma. But I’ll be sure to tell her you find her attractive.



I shifted my gaze from the phone to her table as soon as I was done, but when the dancing crowd finally moved out of the way, she was gone. Gone from sight and gone from my phone, but she’d found a home somewhere else—stuck in my head.





THE END

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