“Hey, Frankie, this is my friend Mia. I thought she could hang out with us today. That cool?”

He shrugs. He’s still too young to really care about girls. “Ms. Reba say it’s okay? If so, it’s good by me. She can be the cheerleader for the game,” he says, laughing. But Mia’s having none of that.

“Excuse me, mister man. But just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I’m automatically a cheerleader. I happen to be a brilliant data analyst, a video game virtuoso, and I know more about anime than anyone you know. So just because I’m female, you shouldn’t assume I can’t play football.” She huffs, and I swear I almost see a neck swivel as she sets him straight. And she does curse, but at least it’s in Russian so Frankie doesn’t understand. She promised me no cursing in front of the kids.

“Oh, uh . . . sorry?” he says, apprehension in his eyes. “So, uh, want to be the QB?”

Mia smiles sweetly, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. “Just messing with you. I have no idea what a QB is. I don’t play a lick of football, but you shouldn’t assume that I can’t.”

She winks and laughs while Frankie looks at me and mouths, “Your girl is crazy.”

“You have no idea,” I mouth back.

And then we’re all laughing.

Eventually, Mia does play ball with us, and all the guys are running around, doing their best to make up for her lack of skills. And while she can’t catch, she can at least tag, and she runs decently enough to play defense on kids.

But what she lacks in experience, she makes up for with hard work and motivation. She’s a natural cheerleader, encouraging the boys and helping them while we play, but I’d never call her that aloud.

Well, not now, at least, but maybe if she was wearing a costume.

Hmm. Might need to pick one of those up.

After the game, we pass out Gatorades and high-fives, along with promises to come back soon for a rematch. I tell Reba a quick goodbye, slipping a white envelope into the mail stack on her desk when she hugs Mia. And then we’re back in my dusty old beater truck.

“Thank you for letting me come along today. I know this is kind of your thing,” she says softly. “Don’t know about the wig though. I like your real hair.”

I shake my head, scratching where my scalp still tingles some. “Now it can be our thing, if you want. Look, I know you wished I’d make peace with my dad someday, but that’s not going to happen, and I think that’s for the best. He’s off the board, out of my company, and out of my life. And I finally feel like I can breathe deeply for the first time in . . . ever. I might never be the son he wants, but I can be a role model for those boys at the home. And maybe one day, I’ll be the dad I wished I’d had to a son of my own.”

It’s a big confession for me. Wanting kids seems scary as fuck since I don’t know how to parent, and I’m reasonably certain a few hours here and there playing ball doesn’t cut it as parental training.

I look over at Mia. She’s wearing her favorite black distressed jeans, a rock band T-shirt from a group I’ve never heard of, and Converse. After a run of purple, her hair is a soft pink from roots to tips, and she has not a lick of makeup on. She’s never looked more beautiful. Or happy.

“You’d be a great dad, Tommy.”

I’m a bastard, a billionaire, and a beast. A man no one ever cared enough to get to know because of the monstrous mask I wore, but she saw beneath it so easily. Her Papa may think she’s a Princess, but I know the truth. She’s my savior, my angel.

We’re going to be one big happy family, just Mia and me and however many kids she wants to have.

I wait for the demon to argue, but it’s silent. Only my positive hopes for the future echo in my head like a promise.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this book, be the first to meet Gabriel, Blackwell’s “Fallen Angel.” Can he do the job Blackwell has hired him for? Read the first few chapters of Not So Prince Charming ! This will be Izzy/Isabella’s book!

Also, flip over for a preview of the first book in my Get Dirty Series, Dirty Talk. If you like Dirty Talking Alpha Males, you’re going to love it!