Page 30 of Pucking Billionaire

I curl my upper lip. “Yeah. I always bring my whole team when on the prowl.”

“Don’t you mean my team?” Even her nostrils flare in a pretty fashion, somehow.

With an effort of will that should win me some sort of peace prize, I raise my hands, palms out. “I swear on our next game, I had no idea you’d be here.” She looks slightly mollified, so I go on. “Why don’t you let me buy you a drink? I promise not to pester you about selling the team.”

It will be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, second only to not staring at her breasts, but if I manage to bury the hatchet with her once and for all, then maybe when?—

“Fine,” she says, much to my shock. “One drink.”

“Two.” I have no idea why I just said that. The more drinks, the more chances to make a social faux pas—one that will likely involve her boobs.

“It’s a deal.”

She leads me over to her friend—Abigail, I think her name was. The friend’s expression reminds me of the one Spike gets when he corners a hapless spider in the corner to “play with it.”

“I’ve just realized I have to head out,” Abigail says and feigns regret very poorly.

“Why?” Sophia demands.

“It’s related to my job search,” Abigail says. “A friend of a friend told me they know someone at Octothorpe. I want to talk to them ASAP.”

Emergency job search conversation? At night? She couldn’t come up with something better?

To my surprise, Sophia seems to buy it because she says, “Can you at least stay for one more drink?”

“Sure,” Abigail says.

I motion to the bartender. “Another of whatever the ladies were having and a vodka for me.” Turning back to Abigail, I say, “You know, I have a good friend who works at Octothorpe. If tonight’s connection doesn’t work out for you, I can make an introduction.” And considering that tonight’s connection is imaginary, why would it work out?

“That would be amazing.” Abigail’s eyes gleam excitedly, confirming the suspected lie.

For the first time, Sophia looks at me with almost no hostility. “Why would you do that?”

I shrug. “If Abigail were to get the job, Landon—that’s my friend—would get a generous recruitment bonus from Octothorpe and therefore owe me one.”

“Ah, of course,” Sophia says and picks up a giant white glass from the bar. “I should’ve known that it would somehow benefit you.”

I gape at the monstrosity in her hands. “What is that?”

Abigail chuckles, and Sophia gives her a stare usually reserved for me. “It’s a Bailey’s cookies and cream milkshake.”

I squint at the atrocity in the glass—which dwarfs everything around it, even Sophia’s ample bosom. “Are those crushed Oreos?”

“Yes,” Sophia says with an eyeroll. “The drink has the word ‘cookies’ in the title.”

“And fudge?” Though I’m not into sugary concoctions, an image pops into my brain, one where I’m smearing fudge over her pale, smooth, perky?—

“It’s used as a topping,” Sophia says. “It’s delicious.”

I surreptitiously rearrange my cock. “It probably has a quarter of my daily calorie intake.”

Wait. I shouldn’t have said that. I blame too much blood being away from my brain.

The slitty eyes are back. “Are you calling me fat?” Sophia hisses.

Abigail steps back, like she’s worried her friend might explode.

“Your body is actually perfect,” I say earnestly, and my cock strains against my boxers, as if in confirmation.

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