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Story: Riches and Romance

I stared at her dumbfounded, mouth hanging open. Guess I wasn’t as much of an idiot ten years ago as I thought. Thank God, but this still didn’t add up.

“I’m not sure what to say. He looks so much like me.”

She raised her eyebrows and shook her head, smiling like she wasn’t surprised in the least.

“Well, breathe easy, Duke Wilder. You’re not a father. You can go back to laser-focusing on achieving your goals, back-logged child-support free.”

I chuckled, downing my whiskey and ordering another. “Wait a second. If I’m not the father, then who…?”

She took a quick breath in, pulling her lips back over her teeth. “Some guy I barely knew. Out-of-towner just passing through.”

She shook her head and stared down at her lap. “Were you ever able to get ahold of him?”

“We didn’t exchange numbers. I didn’t even know his last name. I won’t sugarcoat it, it hasn’t been easy. But Payton changed my life, and I can’t imagine it without him.”

“It’s amazing what you’ve done. Payton seems like a good kid.”

“Thanks. I think so.”

We both smiled, but my heart sank at the thought of Amber struggling all those years, then bristled at the thought of the asshole who knocked her up. But if anyone in this town understood the appeal of out-of-towners, it was me.

“Can I give you one piece of advice, though? As someone who used to know you pretty well,” Amber said, cocking her head to the side.

I shrugged. “Fire away.”

“Don’t get so laser-focused that you can’t see all the other good things around you. I’d hate to see anything else important slip away.”

I nodded, my mind already on the next morning. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t.”

“Thanks for meeting me. It was good to see you again.” Amber grinned.

“Likewise. And if you plan on sticking around, let me know. I’d be happy to show Payton how to throw a spiral, or take him fishing or something.”

She nodded. “I know he’d like that. Thanks.”

CHAPTER 9

Valentina

Zipping my suitcase closed,I stood it upright and rolled it by the door. I wasn’t planning on taking it to Duke’s, but I wanted to be ready to leave as soon as possible, just in case our meeting went south. I had a plane ticket to LA on hold for later that day, and I’d spent the whole morning steeling myself for bad news. Like if Duke was the kind of man to have a ten-year-old son he didn’t know about. Like I was the kind of idiot who fell for that kind of man.

I checked my reflection one last time before walking out the door. Black leggings, a soft, cotton V-neck that skimmed my body just right, and my favorite pair of Nike running shoes. I’d made the decision to wear my comfy plane clothes to Duke’s as further preparation for the worst. The last thing I wanted was to wind up on a plane wearing a cute-ass outfit I’d just been royally rejected in.

The walk to Duke’s felt longer than usual, and as I got closer, I started to feel lightheaded. My stomach was churningwith nerves, a tingly feeling spreading to my toes.Why am I so nervous?

I climbed the porch steps slowly, taking deep breaths in and out. One look at the railing sent me right back to that night with Duke. His hands in my hair, his lips on my skin. I shook my head, running my hand on the back of my neck. One more deep breath, then I knocked on the door.

Within seconds, Duke swung it open, and that deep breath I’d just taken blew out of me all at once. He stood there smiling at me, a white T-shirt straining over his muscled chest, those stupid, adorable dimples sending a shock straight to my core. Damn him for being so irresistible. Damn him for making it so much harder to let him go.

“Glad to see you remembered to put clothes on this time,” I said as he ushered me in.

“That can change if you want,” he replied, his eyes wandering to the tight fabric perfectly hugging my ass.

I narrowed my eyes, and he immediately backed off.

“Right. Too soon for jokes.”

As I walked into the kitchen, my mouth dropped open. Every inch of counter space was covered in bouquets of pink dahlias—my favorite—and the table was scattered with my favorite foods and drinks. A huge bottle of top shelf tequila stood tall in the middle, surrounded by freshly-cut pineapple, carnitas tacos with cilantro and onions, a plate of homemade cinnamon rolls, and a basket filled with my favorite snacks and candies. On the edge of the counter was a to-go cup from Starbucks, and based on the markings on the side, I knew it was my order: a non-fat latte with a dash of cinnamon.

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