Page 250 of The Billionaires

“He’s a health nut,” Jane says. “That’s why he eats chocolate very rarely—and I didn’t want to tease him by eating it myself.”

Oh, yeah? “And don’t forget—Jane is a reasonable-price nut,” I say pointedly. “Which is why I’ve been looking for a subtle way to sneak this ‘overpriced’ chocolate under her radar—and I clearly failed.”

“The word you’re looking for is ‘cheap,’” Georgiana says with a grin.

“I’m not cheap,” Jane huffs. “I’m thrifty—which I learned from you, Mrs. Use-that-rag-instead-of-paper-towels.”

“That’s for protecting the trees,” Georgiana says defensively. “If I were ever frugal, it was out of necessity.”

Said necessity is over with, now that I’m in their lives—even if Jane were not going to marry me—but I don’t say that out loud.

Mary’s eyes are still narrowed in suspicion. “What was your weirdest date like?”

Fuck. This is a test. Must think on my feet, pretend that this is the hearing.

“We went to a cat funeral on our second date,” I blurt. “He belonged to the CEO of one of my companies, so I had to show my support.”

That was bad, but hey, now I have something prepared in case they ask this at the hearing.

“Oh, yeah,” Jane says. “It was that evil cat.”

Mary’s eyes turn into slits. “If the cat was dead, how do you know he was evil?”

I think I might be a better liar than Jane.

Jane shrugs. “I simply assume. His name was Purrtin.”

Or maybe she’s not so bad after all, even if I would’ve gone for something like Kitler.

“That’s pretty weird,” Mary says, and her suspicion seems to ease. “Did anything funny happen during any of your dates?”

“Jane was attacked by a swan,” I say. “But I protected her.”

“What kind of swan?” Mary asks.

“Whooper,” I say. “I remember because I made a joke about it becoming swan burgers, but Jane didn’t get it.”

“Oh, I got it,” Jane says sardonically. “You forgot to mention you protected me by letting the swan bite your ass.”

I chuckle. “And Jane was upset over how expensive the ruined jeans were.”

Jane frowns at me. “Maybe we should tell everyone how you got bitten by a cow when we went to a petting zoo?”

Touché. “Maybe I should tell everyone about the time you dressed as an inflatable unicorn on Halloween, just to have the costume pop, like a balloon?”

“At least I’ve never gone to the bathroom in a poison ivy bush,” Jane says.

And that’s an image that quells Yoda’s stirrings pretty effectively—unless… did she mean that it was my butt that made contact with the imaginary poison ivy? We’ll need to iron out such details ASAP.

Suddenly, Mary squeals like, well, a little girl. Turning around, she blows out a breath. “It was the dog again,” she says. “His wet nose touched my skin.”

“He’s begging for chocolate,” I explain. “But don’t give him any. It’s toxic for dogs. Also, grapes are toxic—as are their shriveled by-blows, raisins, but he begs for all of those too.”

“Here.” Jane grabs the peanut butter from earlier, sticks her finger into the jar, and then extends it toward Leo.

The treat is gone in a millisecond, and Leo licks his chops with satisfaction.

“You might be my favorite human now,” I say in his voice. “It’s just as well you’re marrying my former favorite.”

---