Page 34 of Billionaire's Coastal Haven

“No, it’s fine. I can buy a new phone. I may not be a billionaire, but I can take care of myself. Thank you for rescuing me.”

I meant that I would buy her a new car, but if she won’t accept a cell phone, no way will she accept a vehicle. It will have to show up on her driveway before she buys a new one. It’s the least I can do after she saved me from lead poisoning.

She picks at the hem on the shirt she’s wearing. “I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“You said that already.”

“We don’t have coffee, but say whatever’s on your mind. I deserve it.”

I crouch next to the fire and poke the logs. “Did you know this is the first time I’ve ever built a fire?”

She nibbles the edge of her lip. We both realize I’m giving her an out. Getting angry about her lying to me doesn’t serve either of us. In light of the rest of the day we’ve had, it’s not important. No harm, no foul.

She hands me the duffel bag. “Camping wasn’t part of your childhood? Shocker!” She wiggles her fingers next to her sarcastic smirk.

“Was it part of yours?”

“Mom loved digging in the dirt. Dad didn’t. So after she died…he was never big on vacations anyway.” She shrugs, like staying in her little corner of the world was no big deal. I want to push for more about her childhood, but one question burns stronger than any other.

“How old were you when she died?”

Her eyebrow lifts. “We’re doing this?”

“I want to know about her. If you’ll tell me. She’s why you love this house, right?”

She wanders to the bookcase, and her fingers dance over the wood. “We’d bring picnics up here. I’d play while she researched.”

“Did she ever figure out why some of the rooms feel misshapen?” This room in particular feels like its dimensions don’t fit with the rest of the house. It’s too small for what it should be.

“If she did, it’s in her notes.”

“Glad we moved the boxes out of your car.”

“Yeah.” Her gaze drifts aimlessly around the room.

I didn’t mean to remind her of her car.Change the subject, man.

“What was it about this place that your mom loved so much?”

“She spent her childhood listening to stories about what this house used to be. The parties, the town gatherings. According to Collin and Archer’s grandma Valerie, every Christmas Eve, Thomas and Harriette hosted a gala and invited everyone in town, even the kids. Then at midnight Santa would hand out presents. Who wouldn’t fall in love with the magic and romance? That’s why you bought it, isn’t it?”

“Romance? No. Magic, maybe. My brother and I hiked up here when my parents dragged us to town. Helped us feel normal instead of like trust fund kids.”

“Because Ivy League educations and private jets are such a nuisance.” Her soft, pouty lips soften the sarcasm.

“Someone did their homework.”

She shrugs. “Harvard. Summa cum laude. Supermodels sprinkled throughout your history to round out your”—she drops her eyes to my chest—“education.”

I haven’t dated many supermodels. Interesting that’s the additional fact she added to the mix. And that she can’t keep her eyes from where my shirt’s plastered to my skin. If I didn’t know better, I’d worry Mayor Zoe is attracted to me. “Jealous?”

“Washington was a good school.”

Not what I meant, but I’ll let her get away with the diversion.

“You were a political science major. Minor in history. One long-term boyfriend until your junior year, then nothing.”

“But you didn’t know I wasn’t mayor?”