Bright Lights and Summer Nights: A Fake Dating Billionaire Sports Romance (Black Tie Billionaires)

My baby sister is married.

I didn’t think I’d feel emotional at the fact. From the moment Peyton met Jackson, she’d said the two of them would get married, but watching them exchange vows made it real. She’s all grown up, and it happened so fast. It feels like just yesterday she was forcing me to sit at tea parties with her stuffed animals, and now she’s had the most beautiful wedding, which hopefully all came together to be her dream event.

The entire club was rented out for the day, and their ceremony took place on the golf course overlooking the ocean. The weather was perfect, and the event was so beautiful. I’m just waiting for Emma to comment on how she caught me wiping my eyes during their vows. Jackson is one of the most unique guys I’ve ever met, but it was clear today how happy he makes my sister. His vows were so good it made up for all the things I’ve questioned about him in the past.

Emma slides into her chair next to mine with two glasses of champagne in her hand. “Not to alarm you, but I almost just accidentally knocked over the entire champagne tower grabbing these.”

I pull my eyes from where Peyton and Jackson embrace on the dance floor, raising an eyebrow in Emma’s direction. “How’d that happen?”

“I was trying to get one of the ones at the top with the cotton candy in them because duh, cotton candy. While I was reaching for one of them, my hip bumped the table, and, well…I almost ruined your sister’s wedding.”

She hands one of the champagnes to me. I take it, mesmerized by her animatedly telling the story. I hand the piece of cotton candy from mine over to her since she clearly wanted the cotton candy badly. “You didn’t almost ruin Peyton’s wedding.” I point to where Jackson and Peyton are lost in their own world on the dance floor, even as other people join them. “I don’t think Peyton would’ve even known if the glasses came crashing to the ground.”

“Well, I’m still glad it didn’t happen. Someone could’ve gotten that on video, and I’d be viral all over again.” She sticks her tongue out and places the cotton candy on it. I watch it melt and fight the urge to lean in and taste the cotton candy straight from her mouth.

I smile at her, staring at a small piece that’s stuck to the corner of her mouth. She continues to rattle on about how she’s ready to go out there and start dancing, but I don’t catch all of her words. I’m too transfixed in staring at her to say anything.

Emma pauses, her hands flying to her face. “Do I have something on me?” She wipes across her face, still not getting the small piece of cotton candy.

“Let me help,” I respond, my voice hoarse. Emotions are bubbling up inside me, and I don’t know how to process them. All I know is she means far more to me than I care to admit, and I refuse to believe our story ends after tonight.

I lean in, licking the cotton candy from the corner of her mouth.

Emma watches carefully, her eyes zoned in on me. The cotton candy melts on my tongue, making me want more. But not from the drink—from her mouth.

“Eating cotton candy shouldn’t be so hot,” Emma comments, shoving another piece in her mouth.

I laugh, not quite expecting the remark. “Trust me. I know.” Her tongue peeks out to lick the extra pieces from her lips. The sight reminds me of this morning when she flattened her tongue along the length of my cock before licking me from base to tip. I shake my head, trying to rid my mind of the memory before I pull her from her chair and lead us somewhere private so I can have her again.

“Your sister’s one of the most beautiful brides I’ve ever seen,” Emma notes, her eyes finding Peyton and Jackson on the dance floor.

“She’s really something.”

Emma reaches over and grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. I slide my foot underneath her chair and pull her closer to me. I feather kisses along the top of her hand, and she gives me a radiant smile. “Are you going to ask me to dance?”

My lips pause against her skin. Despite the constant events I’ve attended over the years where knowing my way around the dance floor is needed, I still hate dancing. But for her, I’d do anything.

I stand up and nod my head toward the dance floor. “Will you dance with me, rebel?”

“I’ve just been waiting for you to ask.”

“Preston, I don’t think you’ve looked away from her once today,” Gram pipes up from my side at the table.

I pull my eyes from Emma dancing with Peyton on the dance floor and look at my grandmother. I cough, mildly taken aback by her calling me out like that. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Gram purses her lips. “Don’t try to lie to me, dear. I can read you like an open book, and that sweet girl has you twisted up in knots.”

I sit up in my chair, staring at her with a blank expression. I’m not sure how to respond to her. “Us dating. It’s very new. I’m still getting to know her.” It isn’t a lie. I am still getting to know her. We’re just technically not dating, even though the thought of her with any other man makes me sick to my stomach.

Gram hums, her eyes staring at me like she can read every single one of my thoughts. As a kid, I used to think that she could because she’d know things I swore I never told anyone. She’s insightful that way, and I should’ve known better than to sit alone with her. She loves to meddle, and she loves to be right; I’m not going to hear the end of what she thinks about how I feel about Emma.

She clicks her tongue, folding her arms across her chest after she realizes I’m not elaborating on my comment. “I know you’re not trying to lie to me, Preston Nathanial Rhodes.”

“I’m not lying. I just do⁠—”

“You don’t understand your feelings enough to admit them to me.”

My thumb rubs along my bottom lip as I look at her and think through her words. “Yeah. That.”

“Just because you don’t admit your feelings doesn’t mean they’re not there.”

“Are you my grandmother or my therapist?” My tone has a bit of a bite to it, but it doesn’t deter her at all. She’s used to my mood changes, so all she does is aim a knowing smile in my direction.

“Right now, apparently both because you can’t get your head on straight to realize you’re crazy about this girl.”

I let out a defeated sigh as I fall backward in my chair. Gram’s right. I am crazy about Emma. I just don’t know what to do about it. The timing of us meeting seems all wrong. She’s set on finding herself and has made it clear a relationship isn’t in the cards for her right now, and I’m about to go into the last year of my football career. Logistically, it seems all wrong for me to feel this way about her. But logistics don’t matter when it comes to the heart.

I just want her, no matter the cards stacked against us.

Gram leaves me alone to gather my thoughts. She surprisingly doesn’t poke or prod to figure out what’s going through my mind. She sits there quietly, letting me come to terms with my feelings.

Finally, I look up from staring at my hands in my lap and meet my grandmother’s eyes once again. “I’ve never met anyone like her. How could I not be crazy about her?”

Gram nods, her lips pulling into a wide smile as she looks to Emma. My gaze follows her lead, finding Emma shimmying on the dance floor as Peyton laughs next to her.

“It’s okay to feel that way about her and to be scared about the future. Being scared is just a sign that you care.”

“That might be my problem. That I care.”

“Only if you look at it that way. Or you could look at it as a good thing and think with your heart for once.” She reaches across the table and taps my forehead. “You’ve always been wise beyond your years, Preston. But what if thinking with your head makes you miss out on what might be the best thing to ever happen to you?”

I swallow past the lump in my throat. I’ve been dreading tonight, knowing I’m supposed to go back to the city tomorrow. Now, I’m having to sit through my grandmother playing philosophical matchmaker, knowing she’s making very valid points.Contentt bel0ngs to N0ve/lDrâ/ma.O(r)g!

Emma and I cannot end tonight. We started as what was only supposed to be a week together for Peyton’s wedding, but it’s turned into something that feels like so much more. I don’t know what more that will be long-term, but all I know is it can’t end tonight.

“So, are you going to tell her how you feel?” Gram asks from my side. I’d been so deep in thought I hadn’t realized how her cold hand had moved down to massage the back of my neck. She continues to circle the tender spot as I think about her question.

“Do I have much of a choice?” I tease, appreciating my grandmother for giving me a push to admit my feelings. “If I don’t tell her, it seems like you might.”

She winks at me. “You know me well, dear.”

The conversation falls off because there’s nothing else to say.

For once in my life, I’m scared of losing something. I’m more than scared—I’m terrified. No matter my feelings, Emma could tell me that she isn’t feeling the same things as I am. I feel dizzy about the thought, but it’s something I have to prepare myself for. At this point, even if she tells me this isn’t something special to her like it is to me, I have to try.

Tonight, I’m going to ask her for more, whatever more she’ll give me. And all I can do is hope she wants the same.