Banking the Billionaire (Bad Boy Billionaires Book 2)

I glanced over toward the driver’s seat, taking in the relaxed posture of the motherfucking one-upper sitting beside me.

Thatch drove down the highway with one hand on the wheel and the other holding mine, the crowded edges of the street filled with trees rather than people. It was like a different world up here outside of the city, the only bonding characteristic the name of the state.

But my concentration on nature was next to none thanks to Thatch.

I knew what he was doing. The occasional tap or soft caress of his fingers to my left ring finger. Yeah, I knew. He was trying to egg me on, to make sure I couldn’t forget what I’d agreed to or what this trip meant. Maybe he should have been soothing my nerves or whispering encouraging mantras into my ear, but I sure as hell wouldn’t have been if the roles were reversed.

All I knew was, despite our attitudes toward nearly everything, the proposal had felt serious. Serious in nature and serious in meaning. Of course, I hadn’t asked him about it like a fucking coward. It was so unlike me, but…everything was so good. And I didn’t want to ruin it with details.

This just meant I had to figure out where to go with this little prank war next. I wasn’t sure about the particulars, but the possibilities lay somewhere between an unplanned pregnancy, hiring Dean as my wedding planner, or me wearing a strap-on, and this time, the war would be waged outward—against our friends—as a unit.

I was positive I’d find a perfect middle ground—or a nice balance of all three.

Although, I wasn’t sure if a pregnant woman wearing a strap-on was a violation of some unspoken rules of morality. I’d have to Google it when we got home.

Thatch grinned beside me. “About twenty minutes or so, honey. You getting nervous?”

“Me? Nervous?” I scoffed. “I haven’t been this excited since Magic Mike XXL came out, and even that feels a little lame in comparison. And that’s saying something, Thatcher. I almost caught a glimpse of Channing’s cock in that one.”

“You’re excited to meet my parents?”

I tapped the handle of the passenger door. “Oh, yeah, baby. I get to meet my future in-laws. Check out teenage Thatch’s masturbation suite. Talk your mom into showing me pictures of baby Thatch. I feel like you’re taking me to a sex shop,” I said with a waggle of my brows. “I won’t even know where to start.” I was excited and surprisingly comfortable, given the situation. But Thatch was at ease, so I was too.

“I should’ve strip-searched you before you got in the car. If you pull a black light and white gloves out of that suitcase you call a purse, I’m carrying your ass straight back to the car.”

“Shut up. You’re making me horny,” I said, and he winked. The music faded with a quick flick of my wrist, and I grabbed my phone from the console. “Did you tell Kline about our engagement yet?”

He shook his head.

Hmm. The gossip train had slowed. Though, I guess it had been only a couple of days since he’d demanded I enter the ultimate lifelong prank war. Because that’s what a marriage between Thatch and me would mean—a lifetime of one-upmanship and laughs. My chest felt warm and heavy at the possibility.

“Perfect.” I hit Georgia’s number in my contacts and prepared myself for one of the best conversations I would probably ever have with her.

“Put her on speaker. I need to hear this.”

My body buzzed with the thrill of having a ready and willing accomplice while I tortured people. I tapped the speaker icon, and Thatch and I waited, practically bouncing in our seats, until Georgia picked up on the third ring. “Hey, Cass!” she greeted in her normal bubbly voice. Thatch smiled out of the corner of my eye. “What are you up to?”

“Oh, not too much. Just heading to meet the parents.” Thatch smiled again, and I decided right then maybe solo gigs were better. This fucker’s attractiveness was distracting.

Everything in my head slowed as I tried to force my concentration back to the conversation with Georgie.

“You’re on a plane right now?” Confusion swirled up and out of the phone like tear gas.

“Not my parents.”

“Then whose parents?”

“Thatcher’s parents. Who else’s parents would I be meeting?”

She laughed. “Honestly, I’m not sure. But I didn’t think you’d be on your way to meet his either. I need to get my calendar and mark this date down. This is a momentous occasion that should be documented.”

Thatch flashed me a smirk as he got off the exit for Frogsneck.

“Go ahead and keep that calendar out, because there’s a few other dates I need you to mark down.”

She groaned. “I’m not watching Phil. I’m busy. Every day until I die.”