Marrying My Billionaire Hookup - Nadia Lee Page 0,113

humor and looking forward to seeing what she’s going to get for herself and our baby.

On the way to her parents’ house, we stop by a florist. I buy two large bouquets—one for her mother and one for her aunt.

The lunch isn’t just about food. I suspect it’s going to be more like an audition, and I’m not above bribing some of the more susceptible judges.

Jo gives me directions, and eventually we turn in to a cul-de-sac with three homes. “Right there. The one in the middle.”

The driveway and curb are packed with sedans, a couple of SUVs and a truck. I park my Mercedes.

“Looks like everyone’s already here,” Jo says.

“Are we late?” Being late to an audition is a bad idea.

“No, because Tío Manny hasn’t started serving food yet. Otherwise, Angel would’ve texted me to hurry up.”

I get out and go around the car to open the door for Jo. But she’s already stepping out. “You don’t have to do that, you know,” she says.

“I want to.” I wish she’d just let me. I see curtains in the house move. Most likely some of her brothers and cousins, watching to see how I treat her.

“You’re such a gentleman.” Then she leans closer. “Except in bed,” she whispers, her breath hot against my ear.

My blood heats, then pools downward. Shit. I can’t face her family sporting an erection.

“Behave.” I try to sound stern, but somehow it comes out soft and growly instead.

“Are you sure you want that?”

Shaking my head, I grab the bouquets and we start toward the squat, two-story building. The yard has an herb garden. I recognize a few plants because the gardener at the family mansion in Tempérane grows them for the cook. Jo’s parents have also planted some lavender, and the air is replete with the soothing scent.

But my nerves are a bit too taut to enjoy the natural fragrance. I’m bracing myself for harassment from Jo’s cousins and brothers. They thought Jo was a virgin until I met her, and that I should marry her. So moving in with her first, even when it’s necessary to push her to the altar, might be considered a slap in their collective faces.

“My mom loves lavender,” Jo says as we walk past purple flowers. “She likes to make potpourri with it.” She stops in front of the door and turns to me. “Relax, Edgar. This is just lunch, not a firing squad.”

“Your family’s important to you.”

“Of course.”

And her parents’ opinion of me will matter to Jo, while what my parents think of Jo is about as consequential as news of a new house being built in the Maldives.

“That’s why I’m nervous.”

“My dad wouldn’t have invited you if he didn’t want to. He never invited any of my exes.”

“You never brought any of them home?” Perhaps there was a good reason for her brothers and cousins to believe she was a virgin all this time.

“Of course I did, but my dad never asked to see them. Ever. He must approve of you.”

Or not. Still, it’s nice of her to be so optimistic.

Jo pushes the door open, and I follow her in. The house smells like spices and herbs and sizzling meat and vegetables. It’s nothing like the meals at the Blackwood mansion in Tempérane, where you wouldn’t smell anything until the meal is served and everyone exchanges polite greetings and sips some rare vintage. I think I like it better this way.

“We’re here!” Jo calls out.

“Finally!” comes an unidentified male voice from a different room.

“Saved the best for last!” Jo calls back.

Her family piles out.

Jo’s mom comes over and hugs Jo. Her dad hugs her too, then kisses her cheeks. Her uncle and aunt and cousins and brothers all hug and kiss her, exchanging ebullient how are yous and you look so goods with an occasional Spanish phrase thrown in.

I stand and watch it, feeling slightly awkward. Not quite an outsider, but not yet part of the family, either.

“Edgar,” Jo’s mom says, turning toward me. “You look very nice. Can I take the bouquets?”

“Please. One is for you, and one for your sister-in-law,” I say, as Jo’s mom takes the flowers from my arms.

Jo’s aunt beams. “You’re such a sweet young man.” She hugs me.

After handing the flowers off to Rafael, Jo’s mom hugs me. “Thank you. How did you know I love hyacinths?”

“Just a lucky guess. They seemed like your flower.”

I hug both of them back, relieved I passed with the ladies at least. Her dad and uncle