Bad Bridesmaid (Billionaire's Club Book 11) by Elise Faber (important books to read txt) 📕

to visit in California with, “Maybe we can go together?” Then there were all the meals she’d cooked, finding out his favorite foods and incorporating them into the menu, stocking up on a certain brand of popcorn since it was his preferred variety, and how she’d cleared a drawer for him so he could leave some clothes at her place.

In two months’ time, he’d gone from feeling unfulfilled and a little lost, to being . . . happy.

Such an inadequate word for all that was in his heart, but it was also the only one that mattered.

Because he was here and happy, and not searching for the next adventure that would bring him a slender thread of that elusive fulfillment for just a moment, before that buzz faded and then he was off again, searching for the next thing . . . and the next . . . and the next.

So, yeah, he’d take happy.

Hands down.

“I am sorry about not meeting you,” he said, yanking himself out of his head and focusing on the important thing—that being this woman whom he loved to the edge of reason, who loved him back just as completely.

She kissed him lightly on the mouth. “Don’t apologize.” A wink. “I’ve been known to get lost in my work every once in a while. You’ll just have to owe me.” Another wink.

“Is there something in your eye?” he asked innocently.

But she was old hat at his humor by now, so she just reached up and squeezed his cheeks, affecting a baby voice. “Oh, cute little Braddie just thinks he’s so funny.”

“I know I’m funny.”

“You know what’ll be really funny?” she asked, dropping her arms and stepping out of the circle of his.

“What?”

“Me leaving you here in your apartment with a rumbling tummy while I go devour the most delicious Mexican food around.”

Right on cue, his stomach growled.

“See?” she said, lifting a brow. “Hilarious.”

“Not so much.” He kissed her, long and sweet and with every bit of affection he possessed for her. “I love you,” he murmured when they’d pulled back.

She blinked slightly glazed eyes, the hazel irises deepened to swirls of emerald and russet. Then her lips curved further. “I love you, too. But seriously, I will leave your ass here unless you get it in gear.” She pointed toward his closet. “Shoes and jacket on, because it is Friday night, and it’s past time for prickly pear margaritas.”

“It’s going to be a tequila night?”

He’d really enjoyed the last one.

Really enjoyed it.

In fact, he’d enjoyed it so much that his legs had been sore enough the following few days to make navigating curbs difficult. And steps. And lifting his foot enough to pull on his pants. And—

Well, it had been damned good.

“Yes, it’s going to be a tequila night for me. For you”—she waggled her eyebrows—“only if you play your cards right.” A beat. “Which means go get your shoes on.”

It was amazing how quickly people could get dressed when they were motivated.

Thankfully, the restaurant wasn’t far from his apartment, and they managed to sneak into the table just as appetizers were being served.

He pilfered some chips from his brother’s plate and hadn’t bothered perusing the menu. Instead, he ordered what Heidi did when the server came around to get their meals put in.

Then he stole some more chips from Jaime.

“Hey!”

“Little brother perks,” he said chipperly.

Jaime sighed but slid the nachos a little closer. “You’re lucky this plate is huge.”

“Is that what you said to get Kate to marry you?” he deadpanned.

Heidi giggled, attempting to cover said giggle with her napkin, then gave in, laughing loud enough for everyone at the table to look at her.

“Don’t mind me,” she said, waving a hand in front of her face, still laughing.

And fuck if that noise didn’t fill him up, didn’t make him feel like the biggest, baddest motherfucker on the planet. He should be swaggering around this restaurant, showing off his prowess—

Or maybe that should have happened after the last tequila night. Or maybe the Viking one. Or last night. Or—

Suffice to say, he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of making love to this woman who’d so easily captured his heart.

“Stop smirking.” Jaime socked him in the arm.

Hard.

“Ouch,” he muttered, rubbing the injured limb. “What would Mom say?”

Jaime snagged his plate back, smacking Brad’s hand when he went to take another chip. “Probably that you deserved it.”

He shrugged since that was probably true.

“Speaking of Mom,” Jaime said, still guarding his nachos. “They’re driving up early. They’ll actually be here tomorrow and want to do a family dinner with Kate’s family.” His eyes flicked past Brad, alighting on Heidi. “That includes you, too,” he said, “just in case you’d try to get out of the power of the Moms.”

Brad shuddered. His mom and Kate’s mom together were a formidable force.

In contrast, Heidi smiled. “I love the Moms.”

He groaned. “Pretty soon your mom will join the force, and then there will be three Moms.”

“Heaven help us,” Jaime said.

“My mom would be a scary thought.”

He glanced at her, something in the undercurrent of her tone making alarm bells blare. “Why?”

Her eyes did a thing.

Precisely what thing was hard to decipher in the low light of the restaurant. He would have said she looked pained, but then it was gone so fast he chalked it up to a shadow, especially because when she spoke again, there was no undercurrent. Just normal Heidi.

“Only that she makes Kate’s mom look like a kitten in comparison.” She patted his arm. “You’d run away in fear.”

“I have to meet her at some point.”

Her finger, the nails short and unpolished yet no less feminine, came to her lip, tapped the bottom one. Twice. “But do you?”

“I do.”

“Damn”—a smile that was completely normal without a weird eye shadow thing and with absolutely no trace of an undercurrent—“and here I was thinking of trying to keep you all to myself.”

He glanced around the table, the other occupants unabashedly watching him and Heidi make gooey eyes