Page 122 of The Billionaire Who Saved My Cat From The Mafia

Niko is scowling at me, his eyes dark with suspicion.I reach around with my free hand and squeeze his forearm, hoping the gesture comes off as affectionate and not the desperation it is.

“Since when do you not like tourists?”he asks me.“You’d be penniless if not for the desperate bastards happy to empty their wallets in exchange for a little bump and grind.”

I laugh, as if I’m amused by his quick wit.I don’t bother to point out that there’d be no Las Vegas without tourists.Or that tourists are the life’s blood of his illegal activities.Without tourists, who would he steal from, blackmail, and sell drugs or girls to?

Or that his own Russian ass isn’t from anywhere around here.

Instead, I say, “You know, you look super-hot in that suit.I like how it shows off your chest.”

The lie makes me feel only half nauseated because I’m riding on a high.I just saved Declan and Summer.They heeded my warning and did what I told them.

I saved them, and I couldn’t be happier.

And all it took was one desperate text message: you don’t know me he’ll kill you special k can’t’ follow me not safe PLEASE

CHAPTER 59

Special K

I’m trying to appear normal.

Actnormal.

Worknormal.

And though I’m doing my best to be the standard-issue Special K—introvert and hard-working cowboy—somebody’s always pointing out that I’m not fooling anyone.

Emma delivers casseroles and Aunt Phyllis brings fresh fruit, because they’re both sure I’m not eating right.Dad comes over to provide fatherly advice I didn’t request.Phoebe, Emma, and Victoria come over to tell me how obvious it is that Frankie’s in love with me.

And best of all, Summer likes to walk in my front door without knocking, march over to where I’m trying to relax on the couch and yell at me to get my shit together.

Just another day with the MacLaines of Yosemite Ranch.

Luckily, Summer and Declan flew to Las Vegas early this morning to take a stroll down memory lane.Why they’d want to revisit their drunken wedding night at the Mariah Carey Chapel of Love is anyone’s guess, but those two are nothing if not unique.I guess they want to have fun before the baby comes.

The upside is I don’t have to worry about getting yelled at today, so there’s that.

But I’m far from normal.No amount of casseroles, fruit, or homespun words of wisdom can get me back to the way I was before Boots came into my life and then left again.

That’s why I’m not overly surprised when I look around to see where I’ve wandered.I didn’t plan to, but after many hours riding the range lands, DG and I are now well on our way up to the campsite on the ridge.It’s habit, I guess.

A habit I’ll have to learn how to break.

I dismount, tie the reins to the usual tree limb, and take a look around.I try to convince myself that I’m doing this to get Frankie out of my system, to de-mystify the place where I fell in love with her.That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

But it’s a crock of shit.I’m torturing myself.Nothing more and nothing less.

My heart lurches at the sight of the tree stump by the fire ring.I remember so clearly the look she gave me the evening I rode up here with the ATV trailer packed to the rafters with supplies.

She sat right here on this stump with her forearms on her knees, shaking her head with disbelief.Exhaustion.Distrust.

And told me to get the fuck out.

But that same night, we found a way to connect.And that was all it took—it was man down.If I’m honest with myself, I’m pretty sure I fell in love with her that night.It’s too bad we’ll never have children together, because it would be a great answer to the question about how mommy and daddy became a couple.

“Well, it all started when I saved your mommy’s cat from a feral hog…”

I chuckle softly to myself, but the sound fades into a sigh, and then a groan of sorrow.