Read Online Banking Her: A Billionaire Bad Boys Novella (Book 2.5) (Bad Boy Billionaires) by Max Monroe - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Max Monroe
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circuit twice, I turned my attention back to my phone.
Well. Except for my ears. They were still highly trained on the babbling conversation of three beautiful women.
“Who’s watching Lexi?” Cassie asked, and I couldn’t stop myself from peeking up from the email I was typing to glance at Winnie.
I knew she had a kid, but I tried not to think about it.
And yes, I’m well aware that makes me sound like an asshole. But remember how busy I said I am? Kids take all kinds of time and energy. Not in the bad way, they just deserve someone who can give them everything. Every effort, countless moments, and endless encouragement. I’m the guy who would show up fifteen minutes late to the recital—if at all.
I fucking knew the kid complicated going there, but my dick didn’t want to hear it. He wanted her— I wanted her —and ignoring the kid seemed like the only acceptable compromise, for the time being.
“My brother Remy,” she answered easily, and my half-assed attention immediately kicked into overdrive.
Remy. Her brother .
She’d pretty easily left out that little detail when I’d had my tantrum in her office. I’d tried pretty hard to lock it down, but I’d been instantly jealous at the sight of another guy’s name on her phone.
I’m insane. It’s not like she belongs to me .
“Does Remy watch her a lot?” Georgia asked, but my mind turned down the volume on her voice and started to run through its own commentary.
Jesus. I needed to remind myself of a few things here. Kids were fucking sticky and needy and always had a knack for interrupting all pleasurable activities with the need to shit, vomit, or exercise some other disgusting bodily function.
You don’t need a goddamn woman with a kid. No matter how fucking sexy she is.
Her white shirt looked crisp against her tan skin, and the dusky gray-blue of her eyes flicked to me on more than one occasion. Georgia and Cassie didn’t seem to notice, too busy cackling and laughing with one another, but I sure did.
My cock was half hard behind the fly of my pants.
Jam hands , I told myself. Remember that kids always have sticky goddamn jam hands .
“It’s usually Remy,” Winnie went on, and my ears perked back up at the rough rasp of her authoritative voice. “If not him, one of my other brothers is usually free.”
How many fucking brothers did she have?
“How many fucking brothers do you have?” Cassie asked, and I nearly seized up at the realization that crazy Cassie Phillips and I were traveling the same road of thinking.
Though, hers probably had considerably fewer visualizations of Winnie’s naked body on all the billboards.
Winnie’s laugh rang in my ears. “Four. Remy, Jude, Ty, and Flynn.”
“Fucking hell. One shy of a basketball team,” Cassie commented, and Georgia’s eyebrows pulled together as if she was mentally trying to figure out if Cassie was correct. I laughed at that.
“What?” Winnie asked me. Her voice was hard, no doubt thinking I was laughing at her.
I jerked my chin toward Georgia. “Little Georgie. Working for the NFL and still no concept of sports.”
“I know about football,” Georgia muttered.
Cassie added, “Sort of,” and we all laughed.
My interest returned to Winnie quickly enough, scanning from her crossed legs all the way up to her eyes. “What happens when none of your brothers can watch her?” I found myself asking.
What the fuck, Wes? This doesn’t sound like ignoring the existence of the kid to me .
Winnie answered me, but she looked at Cassie as she did. “I have a regular nanny. But she’s also a full-time student, so my brothers fill in the holes.”
“I bet they fill lots of holes,” Cassie said to everyone’s amusement but Winnie’s.
She groaned. “Don’t you dare put that goddamn picture in my head.”
“We’ll watch her sometime,” Cassie volunteered once she stopped laughing. “We could use the practice.”
“She’s not like the sample cart at
Well. Except for my ears. They were still highly trained on the babbling conversation of three beautiful women.
“Who’s watching Lexi?” Cassie asked, and I couldn’t stop myself from peeking up from the email I was typing to glance at Winnie.
I knew she had a kid, but I tried not to think about it.
And yes, I’m well aware that makes me sound like an asshole. But remember how busy I said I am? Kids take all kinds of time and energy. Not in the bad way, they just deserve someone who can give them everything. Every effort, countless moments, and endless encouragement. I’m the guy who would show up fifteen minutes late to the recital—if at all.
I fucking knew the kid complicated going there, but my dick didn’t want to hear it. He wanted her— I wanted her —and ignoring the kid seemed like the only acceptable compromise, for the time being.
“My brother Remy,” she answered easily, and my half-assed attention immediately kicked into overdrive.
Remy. Her brother .
She’d pretty easily left out that little detail when I’d had my tantrum in her office. I’d tried pretty hard to lock it down, but I’d been instantly jealous at the sight of another guy’s name on her phone.
I’m insane. It’s not like she belongs to me .
“Does Remy watch her a lot?” Georgia asked, but my mind turned down the volume on her voice and started to run through its own commentary.
Jesus. I needed to remind myself of a few things here. Kids were fucking sticky and needy and always had a knack for interrupting all pleasurable activities with the need to shit, vomit, or exercise some other disgusting bodily function.
You don’t need a goddamn woman with a kid. No matter how fucking sexy she is.
Her white shirt looked crisp against her tan skin, and the dusky gray-blue of her eyes flicked to me on more than one occasion. Georgia and Cassie didn’t seem to notice, too busy cackling and laughing with one another, but I sure did.
My cock was half hard behind the fly of my pants.
Jam hands , I told myself. Remember that kids always have sticky goddamn jam hands .
“It’s usually Remy,” Winnie went on, and my ears perked back up at the rough rasp of her authoritative voice. “If not him, one of my other brothers is usually free.”
How many fucking brothers did she have?
“How many fucking brothers do you have?” Cassie asked, and I nearly seized up at the realization that crazy Cassie Phillips and I were traveling the same road of thinking.
Though, hers probably had considerably fewer visualizations of Winnie’s naked body on all the billboards.
Winnie’s laugh rang in my ears. “Four. Remy, Jude, Ty, and Flynn.”
“Fucking hell. One shy of a basketball team,” Cassie commented, and Georgia’s eyebrows pulled together as if she was mentally trying to figure out if Cassie was correct. I laughed at that.
“What?” Winnie asked me. Her voice was hard, no doubt thinking I was laughing at her.
I jerked my chin toward Georgia. “Little Georgie. Working for the NFL and still no concept of sports.”
“I know about football,” Georgia muttered.
Cassie added, “Sort of,” and we all laughed.
My interest returned to Winnie quickly enough, scanning from her crossed legs all the way up to her eyes. “What happens when none of your brothers can watch her?” I found myself asking.
What the fuck, Wes? This doesn’t sound like ignoring the existence of the kid to me .
Winnie answered me, but she looked at Cassie as she did. “I have a regular nanny. But she’s also a full-time student, so my brothers fill in the holes.”
“I bet they fill lots of holes,” Cassie said to everyone’s amusement but Winnie’s.
She groaned. “Don’t you dare put that goddamn picture in my head.”
“We’ll watch her sometime,” Cassie volunteered once she stopped laughing. “We could use the practice.”
“She’s not like the sample cart at
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