Fake Single Dad A Billionaire Single Dad Romantic Comedy - Melinda Minx Page 0,2

at him. “You’re the one that makes me wear this thing! And no, I usually put it on at the last possible moment.”

“But you put it on this morning to...impress me?”

“I didn’t want to eat with you while wearing a robe, but I’d forgotten that the cocktail waitress uniform covers me up even less than a robe. Why does the uniform have to be like this, exactly?”

“You’re covered up more than me,” he said. “I can take the blanket off if it makes you feel any better.”

“Please don’t.”

“When I opened the hotel,” he said, “I had to make sure it was competitive. Hot cocktail waitresses in skimpy outfits gets people to stay in the casino and spend more money. If I had you dressed like Amish women in frumpy dresses, it would hurt my bottom line.”

“So my wearing this outfit means you can be rich enough to wander around the desert offering strangers $50,000 for their cars?”

“That offer still stands,” he said. “Hell, I’ll give you it either way just for the inconvenience of barging in on you.”

I shook my head. “I have one plate. One glass. One coffee mug. I try to live a minimalist lifestyle. I focus on the things that matter.”

“I see,” he said. “That’s commendable, but not exactly my style.”

“I’ll drive you to the hotel.”

“Please, let me at least pay you.”

I grabbed a piece of bacon and wagged it in front of his face. “You already did, by cooking for me.”

“My cooking skills don’t even warrant minimum wage.”

I shrugged. “The bacon’s crispy and the eggs are a bit runny. That’s just how I like them.”

“I always let my older brothers do the cooking. Eggs and bacon is about the limit of my cooking skills.”

Since he was sitting to my side, I had to consciously look over to meet his eyes. When I looked over at him this time, he threw his leg over the bench and sat with one leg on each side of the bench, facing me. He grinned and stroked his chin, looking me up and down.

I suddenly felt very self-conscious in the skimpy outfit, with this half-naked man looking me up and down. He was very attractive. Physically he was my ideal, but everything else? He was a billionaire, for one. That was an automatic no-go as far as I was concerned. And then his reputation? He was a notorious playboy. He’d made his initial money as a competitive poker player, and he’d invested that into starting up the Osiris Hotel And Casino. Even after the Osiris became wildly successful, Wilder always came off as more of the playboy poker player than serious businessman. He was exactly the kind of guy you would not be surprised to find strolling half-naked through the desert at 5:00 in the morning.

“What are you looking at?” I asked, putting a hand over my chest.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “there’s just something about you. I was trying to figure it out.”

“Is it between my breasts?”

He laughed. “That was just a fun little detour my eyes couldn’t help but take. So you’re flat-out refusing my offer to give you $50,000? For real?”

With my hand still covering my chest, I nodded.

“I used to be poor,” he said. “Or close enough to it.”

“I’m not poor,” I interrupted. “I have everything I need here. I intentionally keep my life simple.”

“That’s why there’s only one plate?”

“Exactly.”

“So $50,000 would needlessly complicate things for you? Just put it in a mutual fund and pretend it’s not there. Only take it if you need it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Taking $50,000 from him would also complicate things with him. My simple life here worked because I had a steady job. Getting involved in any way with the head of the casino was unlikely to make my job situation more stable.

“I really don’t want your money, Mr. Winters.”

“Come on, call me Wilder. And fair enough,” he said, “I’ll just have to think of another way to repay you then.”

“You cooked for me. I told you, that settles it. I’m driving to the same place you need to go anyway. It’s not like I’m even taking you out of the way or anything. It’s really nothing.”

He stroked his chin and narrowed his eyes at me. “There really is something about you, Fiona.”

I cocked my head at him. “When did I tell you my name? I didn’t think—”

Oh. I moved my hand away from my chest and looked down at my name tag. He grinned. I held my hand out