Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)

He chuckled. “I think I could get used to that.”


“Well, my ride is here,” I said as I logged out of my account. “But don’t be a stranger, okay?”

Bill grinned. “Same goes for you.”

“Did you get me all bailed out?” I asked Thatch as I stood up from my chair and threw my snack wrappers away in the trash.

“Pretty ladies don’t pay, darling.” The sheriff didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Now, you’ve had a late night, so be sure to go home and get a good night’s rest, okay?”

“Thanks, Bill.” I leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Don’t work too hard.”

I grabbed my purse and walked over to Thatch. “Ready?”

He glanced around the room in confusion. “Did they change jail?”

“What?”

His chocolate eyes were equal parts amused and surprised. “This is not the kind of jail experience I got the last time I was here.”

I grinned up at him.

“I should’ve fucking known,” he said as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me toward the doors.

“Should’ve known what?”

“That you’d be the one person to get Sheriff Miller wrapped around your finger.”

Once we got in his car, I turned in his direction.

“Can I ask you a question?”

His eyes met mine. “Of course, honey.”

“And you’ll be honest with me?”

He nodded. “Always.”

“Why did Johnny call you a murderer?”

Thatch’s face grew tight. His jaw ticked several times in response. “Is that what pushed you to hit him?”

“Yeah,” I answered honestly. “Obviously, I knew his words were complete shit. But it was the fact he had the balls to say something like that. It didn’t sit well with me, Thatch. Someone saying something like that about you.”

He watched me for a few quiet moments, and I gave him his space.

“When Margo died, she was with me,” he explained. “She was spontaneous and stubborn, and when she was set on doing something, there was no stopping her. She made a reckless decision that took her life, and I couldn’t stop her. I tried to stop her, but I couldn’t.”

I grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. There was more to tell, but he’d tell me in his own time if he wanted too. Knowing that much was enough. “Thanks for telling me, Thatch.”

He stared out the window while his thumb rubbed soothing circles over my hand. “Thanks for being you, Cassie.”

Eventually, he glanced over at me and smirked. “And thanks for defending my honor.”

I grinned. “Thanks for letting me go all Fight Club on someone and for stopping by McDonald’s on the way home.”

He chuckled. “You’re hungry?”

“So hungry,” I groaned. “The Frogstown Police have shit snacks in their break room.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You were in their break room?”

“I’m not kidding about that or the fact that I’m hungry.” I snapped at the windshield and held my stomach. “Get moving, baby. I’ve got a Big Mac with my name on it.”





“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Kline said as he and Georgia walked up to us arm in arm. “You brought the pig? To this?”

“Hey! Watch it, Big Dick. Not everyone’s animal is an asshole,” Cassie retorted.

“Um, excuse me?” Georgia cut in, and I tuned the women out.

“We couldn’t get our usual sitter,” I told Kline ridiculously. He looked like he was constipated with amusement—fucking dying to get it out, but it was all backed up in there.

We’d just gotten back from my parents’ house last night, but we’d both promised Maureen we’d be here, at her charity Black Light Slide event, months ago. Of course, we’d responded separately, to two very separate invitations. Now, we were a real “we.” Living together. Engaged. Fuck, I’d been the one to do it, to demand that it happen, and part of me still couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

Two serial daters with nearly blank relationship histories were engaged. To each other. I’d have been tempted to call an exorcist if I weren’t fucking thrilled to be chained to this devil.

“Georgie!” Georgia’s dad, Dick, called from the opposite side of the slide. People filled the closed-down street, and only the bright lights of several light trees on the perimeter made it so you could see anything. The whole thing about a black-light event is that it needs to happen at night.

“Hey, Dad!” Georgia yelled back. We all waved like little puppets in time with one another.

Dick looked to us and back again, trying to find an easy way to get around the slide. It ran nearly an entire block in length, and people clogged the only available space along its sides. When seconds turned into a minute of trying to navigate the people and stuff around him, Dick gave up and just climbed right fucking through it, sloshing the glowing water with his feet and ignoring anyone who called after him.