Expecting The Billionaire's Baby. Andrea Laurence
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Just as he sat down at his desk, Shane appeared in his doorway. “A successful day, I’d say! We not only have a hotel, but the guests won’t be sleeping on the floor. What do you say we go down to the Texas Cattleman’s Club and celebrate with a drink?”
Deacon arched a brow at his friend. He’d never set foot in that building before. He hadn’t even been good enough to clean their pool back in high school. “I’m not a member,” he pointed out. “And I’m sure there are plenty of people in the club who would see to it that I never get to be one of them.”
Shane dismissed him. “You are certainly welcome as my guest. And if you really wanted to be in the club I could sponsor you. I’m sure few people would have the nerve to speak up against me. Lately, the uproar has been more about the Maverick scandals, and I’m pretty sure that doesn’t involve you. Aside from that, there are still a few folks sore that women can become members of the club. You should’ve heard some of the bitching when the billiards room was converted to a day care. I’m sure they’d be happy to admit you and counteract the appearance that it’s turning into a henhouse instead of a clubhouse.”
Deacon had never entertained the idea of joining the club. And all things considered, he really didn’t want anything to do with an organization that had just decided in the past few years that women were worthy of participating. But he wouldn’t be rude about it because he knew Shane was a member and enjoyed it. “No thanks. I think I’m going to finish up a few things here and call it a night. There is a T-bone steak in the fridge that’s begging to be grilled tonight, and I can’t disappoint it.”
Shane smiled. “Okay, if you insist. But I’m going to drag you down there one day, though.”
“Why? What’s so great about a bunch of people sitting around in cowboy hats—which I don’t own—talking about cattle and horses—which I’m not interested in?”
“Well, for one thing, the restaurant makes the finest steaks you’ll ever eat. The bartenders pour a perfectly balanced dry martini. It’s a nice place to hang out, have a drink and chat with friends.”
Deacon supposed that to anyone else, it would sound very inviting. “Well, you’re my only friend in town, so again, I’ll pass. You go on and eat a finely prepared steak on my behalf.”
Shane finally gave up, nodding and throwing up a hand in goodbye.
Deacon watched him go, relieved that he managed to get out of dinner. He had many reasons for avoiding the clubhouse, but the biggest one was Cecelia and Chip. He knew that both of them were members, and he had no interest in running into either of them tonight. Not after she’d spent the afternoon twisting his insides into knots.
No, he needed a little time before he saw Cecelia again. He needed to remind himself how badly she’d hurt him and how much he wanted her to regret what she’d done. To keep his head on straight, he had to stay away from her.
A steak, a stiff drink and a Netflix binge would do it.
He hoped.
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