Hot Player (Hot Billionaire Daddies #7) - Suzanne Hart Page 0,1

cut him off.

“I don’t, Daddy, thanks. I can manage.”

“Your mother and I will always be happy to help, Kim.”

“Yes, I know that. I just want to do this on my own. Does that make sense?”

He leans towards me with a smile; his big green eyes are shining bright. Mom always says I’ve got his eyes, and since they are the mirrors to the soul, that I must have his soul too.

“Yes, honey, it makes complete sense. You want to prove yourself to yourself. That is fine. Best of luck, and I hope you get there. I just want you to know that we will always have your back.”

“Thanks, Daddy,” I say, and I hug him sideways.

Maybe it’s time to pull up my socks and put myself out there. Maybe not everyone finds the “perfect job,” their “ultimate calling.” Maybe I’m just destined to be stuck doing work that is nothing more than a job to me, and I have to make my peace with it.

“You two can come inside now,” Mom says with a chuckle, appearing at the door.

We stand up and follow her in.

“Scrabble?” Daddy suggests.

“Sounds good,” I reply, and he skips away to bring the board.

Mom turns to me with a sigh and a shake of her head.

“I hope you find a man like him to spend the rest of your life with, Kimmy,” she says. I smile, but I’m pretty sure that’s not going to happen.

I’m not as lucky as that.

The next morning, I wake up in bed in my own apartment. It’s a small setup—a studio apartment with literally no space for any furniture other than one couch and a bed. My kitchen is a joke. The bathroom is as small as a closet. I’m not sure how much longer I can live like this. I can’t take any more money from my parents. They have done enough for me already.

It’s only when I hear an incessant knocking on my door that I realize it’s Sunday. Ever since I graduated, all the days have sort of merged together. The knocking continues as I drag myself out of bed.

It has to be Blair. It can’t be anyone else knocking on my door at eight in the morning on a Sunday.

“I’m not going to state the obvious that you’re up early!” I exclaim as I swing the door open.

Blaire is on the other side in her running clothes. Her earphones hang off her shoulders, and her face is glistening with sweat.

“Water!” she croaks as she comes inside.

“Seriously, do you have to do everything in your power to make me feel like a complete loser? I can’t remember the last time I went for a run,” I complain, watching as she pours herself a glass of water from the faucet.

“So just come for a run with me! You know you’re more than welcome.”

I start making coffee. I need lots of coffee.

Blaire stands there, catching her breath.

“How did it go with your parents?”

Blaire is older than me, close to thirty. We probably have no business being friends, because we’re so unlike each other and at such different places in our lives. However, that is what holds us together. We’ve been friends ever since I joined a local young professionals group when I was a junior in college. My career counselor thought it would help me find direction. Blaire was one of the consultants in the group, and we immediately hit it off.

Now, I consider her to be one of my closest friends, and I’m glad that the Universe brought us together.

“Parents are fine. My dad offered to help me, you know, monetarily. Once again.”

Blaire hears the sharpness in my voice and immediately comes to their defense. She’s met my parents a couple of times, and they adore each other.

“I don’t think you should take offense to your dad offering you money, Kim. Do you know how many kids out there would give anything to have that kind of a support system?”

“Exactly. Kids. I’m not a kid anymore!” I exclaim as I pour the coffee.

“You’re still very young.”

I rub a hand over my face. I can feel her eyes on me.

“I just want to figure this out, okay? I just want to find something to do. Maybe something that will pay the bills and help me get through this year without worrying about money.”

“Okay, Kim, I’m sure we can find you a job like that.”

“Okay.”

“It’s just that you’ve been talking about finding the right place. The right fit. You’ve been picky