Home > The Billionaire’s Favorite Mistake (Billionaires and Bridesmaids #4)(9)

The Billionaire’s Favorite Mistake (Billionaires and Bridesmaids #4)(9)
Jessica Clare

Greer always had time for him. She was a good friend, if unassuming. She wasn’t flashy, wasn’t demanding. She was . . . comfortable. Always there, always ready to lend an ear or a hand. She never pushed, never argued.

She deserved so much better than a quick, drunk fuck at a party.

Asher forced himself to get up from the floor, touched his nose to make sure it wasn’t bleeding any longer, and then staggered over to the coffee and poured himself a cup. “Nothing to tell, Gretchen. I just need to talk to Greer. She here?”

“Nope. You’re the only one. I never saw Greer last night, actually.” Gretchen frowned into her cup. “What was she dressed as?”

He racked his brain, trying to think. There was glitter, and her dainty, luscious body was practically hanging out of that low neckline. He remembered he could see the tips of her tight little brown nipples when she leaned forward . . . fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. “Stripper.”


“Flapper. Sorry. Flapper.” God, he needed more coffee. “She was cute.” Cute didn’t cover it. His memories of Greer from last night? A lot sexier than he normally thought of her. Then again, he’d been drunk as fuck. She could have dressed up as Grover from Sesame Street and he’d have probably nailed her.

Time to own up to his fuck-ups. “I probably wasn’t nice to her,” Asher lied to Gretchen. I am pretty sure I fucked her behind your house. “I should call her and apologize.”

Gretchen patted the tray. “Come caffeinate first. You need to be coherent.”

She was right. He thumped into a seat next to her, rubbed his face, and then reached for a cup. “Thanks for looking out for me last night.”

“Oh, this is way more fun than sending you home.” The look she gave him was pure evil. “So can I listen in when you call Greer?”


“Of course. You two are my friends and she’s carried a torch for you since like, grade school.”

He choked on the coffee. “Oh god, don’t tell me that.” Because now all he could think about were her dark eyes gazing up at him, and peeking down her dress to see her nipples . . . he was such a bastard. He’d never be able to look her in the eye ever again.

“It’s true. Well, not the grade school part. But her being in love with you?” Gretchen fluttered her eyelashes at him. “You are her knight in shining armor. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed it before.”

He hadn’t. Greer was just so . . . sweet. He’d just assumed she was that sweet to everyone. All of this was making him feel worse. He gulped down a burning mouthful of coffee. Gretchen’s words had done more to sober him than any amount of caffeine. “I don’t suppose you know where my phone is?”

“I’m sure I do, Prince Charming.” She waved it in the air. Gretchen was enjoying this far too much.


A short time later, when his head stopped feeling like it was a drum, he tried calling Greer. She didn’t answer, so he texted her instead of leaving a message.

AS: Hey there. It was good to see you at the party.

To his surprise, an answer came through almost right away.

Greer: OK

AS: Just wanted to say that I was pretty drunk, and I don’t remember most of what happened.

Greer: OK

AS: I never meant to uh, take advantage of the situation. I hope we’re still good.

Greer: Sure.

AS: You know I value you as a friend.

Greer: Sure.

AS: And I would never try to hook up at a party normally. I was just in a bad place.

Greer: No prob

AS: I just hope we can still be friends? I’d like to put the whole thing behind us.

Greer: Consider it behind us.

AS: Great. Thanks.

AS: I know sex can ruin friendships, but I would rather we stay friends.

Greer: Sure—friends.

Asher stared down at his phone. The conversation seemed okay, but he couldn’t get over the fact that he felt like something was wrong. Greer wasn’t very . . . chatty, he guessed. Weren’t women chatty in texts? She always had plenty to say at lunch. Then again, he’d never really tried to carry a text conversation with her before, so maybe this was just how she was. Some people hated texting. He reread the text conversation, then added a final note.

AS: We still on for Monday lunch?

Greer: Sorry, going out of town. Maybe next time?

AS: Sure, next time.

She was just busy. He was imagining things. Feeling better, Asher poured himself another cup of coffee and tried not to think about the gentle slope of Greer’s breasts, or the tight pricks of her nipples brushing against his chest. Fuck his brain. She was just a friend, and now she was a friend that he’d put in an awkward situation.

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