Billionaire's Surprise Baby: An Mpreg Romance Page 2

  “Sorry I was so rude before.” Truth be told, if he hadn’t looked over my shoulder, I’d have been staring at that screen unsuccessfully for hours. My superhero. “I was trying to get this done and… I was just rude.” There was no excuse for it. Might as well be blunt. He smirked, his hand still reached out, ready for a shake because, being socially awesome, I forgot to actually give him my name. “I’m Michael.”

  “No need to apologize.” We shook, warmth spreading up my fingers, our hands slowly lowering to the table. “May I?” He glanced down at our joined hands as if his question was too vague for me to piece together. A slight reddening of his cheeks had me hopeful I had put it there. That I somehow was affecting him as much as he was affecting me. There was just…something about him.

  It wasn’t even his flashy clothes or muscular shoulders that even his suit couldn’t hide. It was something more. There was kindness in his eyes, as well as a strong spirit. Part of me wished he was here permanently so I could get to know him. Of course, that would mean saying goodbye once my job prospects increased, so neither was ideal. Maybe a one-and-done was the way to go. It wasn’t like I could get too attached to him in one night. Right? My heart knew the answer was in the negative, but at that point I could hardly care. His thumb traced small circles on my hand and that had far more of my body responding.

  “Since you’re my knight in shining armor for the evening, I insist.”

  He smiled at my response.

  “Are you here for Ms. Betsy?”

  “I am.” His grin faltered. I should’ve known better than to bring up sadness. “You’re not.” He wasn’t asking. Probably because I was dressed in comfy clothes, something no one would wear to a funeral.

  “I never had the pleasure of meeting her. I’m pretty new here,” I offered lamely.

  “I thought people only left,” he mused with a slight tightening of his grip. Not that I needed a squeeze. Every subtle movement by one of his fingers or his wrist drew my attention away from all else.

  “That would be my goal as well.” I tried to keep a teasing intonation to avoid sounding like a whiner. It must have worked because he gave a nod of understanding paired with a smile that could charm just about anyone.

  “That explains the coding in a bar on a Friday night.”

  “That would be more my brother and his husband are having a date night at home, and I didn’t want to be in the way.” The sad state of my life in a nutshell. Hiding in a bar because I had no place to truly call mine.

  “I’m glad they are.” He winked. It should have been cheesy and over-the-top in this day and age, but on him? On him, it worked.

  “I kind of am, too.” Or was gladder than anything. Potato, potahto.

  “Ready to put your order in?” Jackie appeared out of nowhere. Probably to glean tips, but that was fine. I was hungry.

  “Sure.” I didn’t need to tell her what I wanted. My order was always the same. “You want anything, Porter?” I tilted my head his way. Jackie had been talking directly to me but staring at him, probably more interested in what was in his wallet than his looks, but given his hotness, his looks certainly didn’t hurt.

  “Yes, thank you,” he answered me before turning to Jackie and placing his order. “Burger, medium, with fries.”

  “That comes with mayo, lettuce, and tomato.”

  “Sounds perfect.” He nodded in a subtle sign of dismissal.

  “It’ll be up in five,” she called over her shoulder, taking his hint and moving off.

  Porter gave me another smile. Dimples. Heaven help me. “So, Michael, tell me, what brings a sexy man like you to a town like this?”

  “I feel like I’m in a cheesy romantic comedy.” Only this man wouldn’t be getting his happily ever after with the stranger from the bar. He might get a nice night, possibly dinner, but that was that. It was so much better than sitting alone all night.

  He arched a brow. “Dodging the question?”

  “Just an observation.” I took a sip of my remaining, now-tepid, beer. “I finished school and wasn’t immediately hired, so I came here to stay with my brother while I figured out the next stop on my journey to employment greatness.”

  “That’s why you were doing that coding instead of going out with your friends.” It was nice to see him taking it for what it was and not that I was simply an unemployed loser. Even though, I kind of was. Fine. I totally was.

  “I was doing that because I needed to figure it out. It was driving me bonkers, and my grade counts on it. I don’t really have friends here. This town kind of keeps to their own.” And why was I spilling my guts exactly? Because he seemed to truly want to know and not be asking out of politeness. Not a typical get-in-your-pants kind of conversation, although if he wanted in, he was quickly earning the key.

  “Some things never change.”

  It was difficult for me to fathom a time when he didn’t make friends easily, but this town was what it was, so maybe. The hurt in his glance told me that even if it was a long time ago, it still stung, and this time I found myself squeezing his hand with the hopes of giving comfort.

  “Are you from here?”

  “I lived here for a while as a kid. Ms. Betsy took me in as one of her projects. When I didn’t have direction—or anything really.

  Ms. Betsy. Of course, I should’ve made the connection. It was time to change subjects.

  “I won’t push.”

  “I appreciate it. Is this all right?” He looked down at our hands, as if now was the time to ask. He was in agreement on it being subject-change time.

  “It really is.” Blissful. Comforting. Oddly sexy.

  “I like making you do that.” He smirked.

  “Do what?”

  “Blush.”

  And then, the blush I didn’t know I had started to burn.

  “Don’t waste your time on the town prude.” Creeper Bob stomped over, shouting, catching the attention of far too many people for my liking. “Not worth flirting up skin and bones if they aren’t going to put out.”

  Because not sleeping with him was a character flaw and not discernment. Asshat.

  “I’m fairly confident I neither asked for nor desire your opinion.” Porter spoke calmly, but his eyes told a different tale. “If he rejected you, that only elevates my opinion of him because anyone who picks you has horrific taste.”

  “Scram, Bob,” Jackie interjected as she placed my stuffed mushrooms, murmuring something about them being on the house, and Porter’s burger in front of us. “No one has time for you. If you keep bothering my customers, I’ll have Steve kick you out.” He took her at her word and walked away, Jackie following closely behind.

  “He’s a nice fellow,” Porter teased as he pushed out of the booth.

  “His nickname is Jerkhead, but you’re entitled to your own opinion.”

  He sat beside me and indicated I should scooch over.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, dense even for me. Especially since his food was already there.

  “Coming to sit by you.”

  His scent tickled my nose, all amber and cinnamon, my already semi deciding to go full mast. My ability to focus on anything but his sexiness was already being challenged before I scented him. Now that I had, game over.

  “Why?” I asked, already moving over to make room for him. There was no way I was saying no to that offer, not when his scent called to me the way it did.

  “Because you want me to.”

  I wanted to argue, possibly play a bit coy, but he was right. I wanted him to sit by me and more. So much more. He was only in town for a day or two. What harm could a little fun cause?

  Chapter Four

  Porter

  One thing having money had taught me was that if you were going to play social games, it needed to be more than worth your while, and even then, only play them occasionally. Another thing it had taught me was that I hated social games, no matter what level they were played on. As a kid, I’d always been on the losin
g end. As an entrepreneur, I had to play them occasionally, but I preferred facts and competence to speak louder than any social jockeying. If it didn’t get me the deal…let’s just say I would have been a lot richer if I could have brought myself to play more games. But, thankfully, in college, I’d made a friend, probably my best friend, Geoffrey, who thrived on social games. He lived on them. If he wanted to throw his hat in the ring, I had no question he would go far in politics. And who knew, maybe he would someday. But for right now, he ran a consulting firm that charged people like me ridiculous amounts of money to play the games for them.

  But right here with Michael, I didn’t have time for games. I was leaving in the morning. I liked him. He was clearly smart, and I knew what it felt like to be stuck in this town. Life was too short not to be real. So when I wanted to sit beside him, and I knew he wouldn’t object, I did.

  It had been a while since I’d had dinner with a man. And maybe this didn’t really count, seeing as we were here, in this bar, for completely different reasons, but I enjoyed the firm warmth of him by my side. It made me feel less alone in this room full of people I had once known.

  I bit into my burger. It was not as good as the charbroiled version at Marty’s, my favorite first-date spot in the city, but it was decent. “So what kind of job are you looking for?”

  He sighed. “Honestly, right now? Anything not here that pays me enough to make rent and my school loan payments.”

  “Dream big. If you could do anything.”

  “Dreaming big is what got me nowhere,” Michael grumbled. I gave him a pointed look, and he shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s been hard to think about what I want when what I need is shouting so loudly at me. I got an MBA because everyone said that was the smart thing to do, right? Except that everyone and their brother got an MBA, too. So I’ve been trying to branch out. Specialize. Like taking this coding class, for instance.”

  “Yeah? What do you see yourself doing with a specialization?”

  “I think I’d be a good business analyst for a tech company. I definitely have the business knowledge, if not the actual, you know, experience.”

  “Would you like that?” He kept talking about what he should do, what he needed to do. This man had drive. I could see it. But where was his actual passion? Was it so buried in plans and expectations he’d forgotten it?

  He sighed again. “I’d like having a job.”

  Someone tapped a glass for attention, and I glanced up to see a woman standing on the bar. If I took away about fifty pounds, a few tattoos, and imagined her hair long, I could recognize one of the kids who’d been at Betsy’s for a year or two while I was there, before she hit eighteen and phased out of the program. As a teenager, Angie had been a tomboy. She was clearly and unapologetically butch now. “I know a lot of words were said at the funeral, but this town has too many Betsy stories to fit behind a podium. Ms. Betsy was the first person who told me it was okay to be me. And she’d wash my mouth out with soap for phrasing it this way, but she taught me it was okay to say fuck you to anyone who couldn’t accept you the way you were.” Angie raised her glass. “To Betsy.” There was a muted roar of agreement as the crowd joined in on the toast. My drink was empty, but I raised my glass in honor of Ms. Betsy. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Michael’s glass raised as well.

  I managed to catch the waitress’s eye and signaled for refills for the both of us.

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” Michael said.

  “Of course I don’t,” I agreed, but said no more.

  Angie clambered down from the bar, and a diminutive blonde in discount store jeans and a faded tee stood up on their chair. “If it hadn’t been for Betsy volunteering to watch my two boys when my Jack died so that I could work, I might have lost them to the system. I could have only hoped they would have ended up with someone as good as her, but Lord knows there’s no one quite like Betsy.” Another toast and cheer, and the waitress delivered our drinks.

  The stories continued, and Michael and I sat and listened. When we finished our food, I took his hand again. All of the stories were raising memories I thought had long lost the ability to affect me. But tonight, part of me was a neglected and unwanted teenager again, with no family and no home to call my own. Ms. Betsy had provided an anchor for me, one I hadn’t realized I still needed as a grown man. And now she was gone. Michael’s hand in mine was grounding, reminding me of who I was—Porter Dahl, billionaire and tech mogul—and who I was not anymore—a broken child.

  “I asked Ms. Betsy once how she could stand having all them kids underfoot, all day everyday,” the current speaker, a man in his late forties said, a smile brightening his creased face. “Didn’t it just make her itch to get out of the house something awful? And she looked me straight in the eye and said, ‘Freddy, you have a lot of cars, right?’” The crowd chuckled. Apparently, some inside town joke. “‘Don’t you get tired of having them clutter up your yard? Don’t you just want to run away into the woods sometimes to get away from them?’” The chuckling turned to roaring laughter. “Well, of course I didn’t. And she told me that everybody’s got a gift. Some peoples, it’s cars, others, it’s kids. Some peoples, it’s taxes, but them’s a strange kind of folk, and it’s probably best to give them a wide berth. But just because you don’t understand a person’s gift doesn’t make it any less valuable. Ms. Betsy had a gift for picking out people’s gifts. She’ll be pretty near impossible to replace. To Betsy.”

  They lifted their glasses yet again. The alcohol was starting to burn enough, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to drive home tonight. That had been more wishful thinking than anything anyway.

  “Porter?” Michael’s voice was so soft, I almost didn’t hear it over the churning of my own thoughts. “If I could do whatever I wanted...?”

  He had my full attention now. I turned to face him, tuning out whoever was currently speaking.

  “I think I’d want to code. I mean, it’s completely ridiculous. I didn’t do any coding in college, and no one is going to hire a programmer who only has a generic business degree, but if I could do anything? I think I would give it a try.” He chuckled. “It’s a challenge, but one I enjoy.”

  “I’d hire you,” I said, and I was surprised to realize I meant it.

  He laughed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “No, let me rephrase that. I will hire you.”

  Michael looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not just a programmer. I own my own software consulting firm,” I said. “If you’re uncomfortable with the idea of hiring on with little practical knowledge, we can call it an internship, but the drive to learn is almost more important than the knowledge itself in my field.”

  Michael gaped at me.

  “So, what do you say?” I waited for a moment, but his expression didn’t change. “It’s your ticket out of here.”

  Chapter Five

  Michael

  He was drinking and trying to get into my pants. I was all right with that. More than all right. This offer, though, didn’t sound like part of that. It sounded almost legit. Maybe it was, but it was also an offer made with a few too many sips of liquor and during an emotional time, so there was zero chance I could accept.

  Sober Michael might think differently in the morning, but, for now, I had to turn him down. It was the right thing to do. Besides, if I accepted and then it didn’t pan out, that would be worse, right?

  “You are far too kind, but I need more skills before I can even intern. You saw me making a mess of things, and that was simple stuff.” It was sadly true. My skills were growing in leaps and bounds, but they weren’t even intern-ready yet. They would be, though. I was no quitter.

  “Everyone needs a second set of eyes sometimes.”

  “That may be.” I would eventually have found my error, but the amount of time I spent on it was not acceptable in any workplace. It just wasn’t. “But still, a polite decline. I make my own way.” When
I did this, which I would, it needed to be because of my skills. Not a leg up from someone who I wanted to jump.

  “If you change your mind—”

  I cut him off with my lips. Sure, I knew it was an effective method to shut an alpha up, but that wasn’t why I went in for the kill. I had wanted to kiss Porter from almost the first moment I saw him, and the need to do so had increased exponentially with every moment that he sat beside me.

  His lips immediately reacted to mine, effectively taking over the kiss, which I was more than willing to allow. There was something so innately hot about this moment. His lips danced with mine, his tongue seeking entrance. As I opened up for him, a needy sigh escaped me, my cock practically knocking at my zipper door. When was the last time a man drew such a reaction from me? Had one ever?

  He leisurely explored my mouth as I explored his, the intensity of the moment growing with each swipe of the tongue, each taste. He grasped my neck in a raw and sensual grip that had me ready to mount him right then and there. It was a good thing he was passing through because this man was trouble of both the very best and the very worst kind.

  The crackle of the check holder being placed on the table pulled me from my focus. I snapped, catching the smirk on Jackie’s face as she sauntered away. She was right; it was time to get a room before what crappy reputation I had in this town got worse. Not that it mattered, because I would get out of here. It was only a question of when.

  “Are you staying at the motel?” My breath was uneven and my body still singing for him. Oh, tonight had the potential to be amazing. There was no need to ask which motel. There was one. It was crappy and rundown, but the next closest one was forty-five minutes away, and our drinking made that option obsolete.

  “No. I was planning to leave tonight, but I got distracted.” He cupped my cheek, which his thumb caressed.