Her mom shimmies her shoulders back and forth. “Yes, she did. She said you were so generous, and she knew you’d be willing to help the mom of the girl you love.”

“Is that so?” I arch a brow.

Her mother smiles—a big fat grin. “She did.”

“And what is it that you need, Ms.—” I stop, since I don’t know if they have the same last name or not.

“Ms. Maureen Lancaster.”

“Nice to meet you.”

A voice cuts in. “Everything okay, Mr. Parker?”

I nod to Claude. “I’m all good.” I turn back to Sabrina’s mom. “You’re saying Sabrina told you to come see me today?”

“She sure did. I saw you two kissing like lovebirds on the street, since I was coming to town to visit her. And after my sweet girl and I caught up once you left, she said you’d be so willing to help me out. That all I’d need to do was come see you and give you the details.”

I rub a hand over my jaw. This is a brand-new pitch for me. A proposal I never could have expected. “She did?”

Maureen nods, chewing gum and smiling as if it’s the last thing she plans to do today. “She told me where you worked, and how generous you are, and how you always like to help her family.”

“I do love to help her,” I say, studying Maureen’s face, trying to see any signs of love for her daughter, for her son.

“And since you’re some kind of billionaire, she said it would be easy-peasy for you to give me ten thousand dollars for a new business I’m trying to start. Since that’s what you do, right? You start businesses?”

“Is that what Sabrina told you?”

“Of course, and I read all about you on the internet.”

“Then you’d know I’m not a billionaire.”

She laughs lightly. “Billionaire, multimillionaire. What’s the difference?”

“A comma. A very important comma.”

She parks a hand on her hip and juts it out to her side in what is likely supposed to be a sexy stance. “What do you say to helping the woman who gave life to your new lady?”

A hundred thoughts run through my head. Someday, I’m going to write them down and pen a book—All the Wild Pitches.

And this pitch would take the top spot. Win the gold medal. The Academy Award.

It would win it since there was once a time when I might have believed this woman. A few months ago, maybe even a few weeks ago. Not because she’s believable, but because I trusted no one. I’d been burned by women. My old habits would have died hard in this lobby, and I’d have suspected Sabrina was up to no good.

But I’m not that guy anymore.

I know who to trust. I know who to believe.

“Ms. Lancaster, you want to know what I say to your offer?”

“I sure do,” she says, giving a coy little twirl of her hair.