Step-Baller (Wanting What’s Wrong #3) Read Online Dani Wyatt

Categories Genre: Erotic, Novella, Sports, Taboo, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Wanting What's Wrong Series by Dani Wyatt
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Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37885 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
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“So did I.”

“Yeah. He wants to meet with you, ASAP. I know you’re taking a break, but this is kind of important. You need to take this deal with him,” My dad clicks his tongue the way he does when he’s having to deliver bad news. “Things are bad, Jackson. They’re foreclosing on the Oakland house. Our home Jackson. Just sign with Harson. Hell, he’ll even fly you and Mina up to New York he said. He said he offered and you turned him down. Don’t do this Jackson, don’t do this to your family. Tell me you’ll call him back and accept.”

“I’m going to take his deal, Dad. But on my terms, not his.”

“That’s not how Harson works,” he grunts, and at the same time I hear the floorboard creak. I glance across to see Mina walking in, rubbing her eyes, looking confused. “He likes to be the big dog, you know that. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate. We’re going out into some areas with only sat phone service for a few days, I won’t be able to relax unless you tell me you’ll do the right thing Jackson.”

“Fine. I’ll do it,” I mutter, and press to end the call before I say something that triggers Mina’s memories.

“Who…who was that?” she asks.

“No one. Football stuff. You okay? Your were so fucking cute sleeping. I watched you for a long time baby.”

“I slept okay. I…I think I remembered something else. Was I going to a fashion show or something? Some sort of contest? I remembered something about Marie Clare but maybe it was a dream? I’m not a fashion designer, so…”

“Yes, you are,” I tell her, choosing my words, walking the tightrope. “You’ve always been interested in that, ever since I’ve known you. I was going to surprise you, but I’ve booked us a private jet.”

“Really?” She does this little cute as fuck bunny hop. “How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one, baby. Some of your outfits you designed got a bit torn up in a mix up with your suitcase, and you were upset, but I had them brought here so we could get them fixed, then head for New York and chase your dreams.”

“You did all that for me?”

“I’d do anything for you,” I tell her, and I mean it. I’d do fucking anything. Anything except tell her the truth, apparently. “Let’s get packed. I’ll get your contest outfits organized, you go pack us a bag baby. And, bring along a few things for another fashion show. One for Daddy.”

CHAPTER 10

Mina-

This. Is. Amazing.

It hardly even feels like we’re flying, the ride is so smooth. There’s a pilot up front, but honestly it’s so private back here I could dance around naked and nobody would know any different. I’d be tempted to do so, too, if not for the fact that I’m trying to get these clothes fixed.

“How did they get ripped like this?” I ask as I draw out a dress from the case, frowning at the way the seam looks like it’s been pulled apart. I laugh, because otherwise I’d be crying over the amount of work that clearly went into it. “Did someone try to wear it that was two sizes too big?”

“Daddy’s going to help you fix them all, babygirl,” Jackson says, taking my hand in his and kissing the knuckles. “You just tell me exactly what to do and I’ll do it. I’m your assistant.”

“So I’m the boss, huh?” I grin, enjoying the thought of being in charge.

“Just while we fix these, yes.”

I spread out the fabric on the floor of the plane and look over it. It’s weird. I only have a vague recollection of the contest I’m heading to right now, but I still know how to do this.

Bits of memory keep coming back to me, pictures of people I know I’ve met but I’m not sure who they are. I know that Jackson’s dad is a retired football player. That came back to me at the house, and when I asked Jackson he said that was right. But confusingly I think my dad might be a footballer as well. Is that how we met? Through our fathers?

I haven’t even asked about my mom. Who she is, how well we get along, when I might see her next. I have this image of a beautiful woman and a loving relationship, and part of me doesn’t want to shatter that illusion if it turns out we hate each other and I haven’t seen her in years.

But all of those worries are pushed aside as I just enjoy the simple pleasure of mending my clothing collection. As I show Daddy how to use a needle and thread, and get him pulling together the easier bits, I work on a blue ruched satin evening gown that needs a lot of work.



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