Only Forever With A Billionaire (Only Us Billionaire Romance Book 3)

by Ellie Hall

“Can you resist me?” His voice was hard, firm, commanding.

  At last, she gave in and tilted her chin up. She looked into his blue eyes. They were soft. Warm. Inviting. Trustworthy. Alluring. They were as magnetizing as when she’d made eye contact with him across the dance floor.

  She was hooked.

  A beat later, her hand flew to her forehead. “This is exactly what I feared would happen.”

  “What? That I’d sneak up to your room and pack your things, planning on taking you to a peaceful ranch in the US south for a week of relaxation?” He shrugged. “Doesn’t sound half bad to me.”

  From downstairs one of the dogs let out a sharp bark.

  “What about the dogs?” She paced.

  “Housesitter? Kennel?”

  “What about work?” She wrung her hands.

  “You have time off and an inheritance.”

  “What about—?” She gazed at the ceiling as though searching for another objection.

  “What’s that French saying? Carpe diem.”

  “That’s Latin. Seize that day.”

  “Say something in French.” His eyes swept her, sending heat traveling across her body.

  “C’est ridicule.” But it had less force than she’d wanted.

  His flirty grin made it obvious he enjoyed listening to her speak French. “I don’t think it’s ridiculous.”

  “Then you do understand me.”

  “That was an easy translation. I happen to think it’s sensible. You, me, countryside, sunshine.”

  He tossed a few more articles of clothing into the suitcase.

  “I can’t take a jumper. It’s summer.” She held up a wool sweater and started folding it.

  “A jumper? You mean a sweater.”

  “My English is just fine, thank you,” she sniped.

  “But you’re coming?”

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  “Then you are. Your brother will be pleased. At least there aren’t snogs there. But plenty of Kisses.” He winked. “I’m taking my half with me.”

  She whacked him with a pair of jean shorts. “This is rash. Crazy.”

  “Maybe you need a little crazy in your life. Spontaneity. Be a little less contained.”

  “No. I need stability, reliability.”

  “Is that what you're looking for in a man?”

  “Yes, but remember what you said? There’s no such thing as long term, no such thing as forever.”

  His eyes hooked hers. Questions threaded in the air between them, but she didn’t know him well enough to understand what they were without the accompanying words. Nonetheless, her heart stuttered. Her lips parted to gently protest, to argue, to say something to change his mind.

  Then he lifted a shoulder. “I said that.”

  But she wasn’t sure he actually believed it. Or at least, she didn’t want him to because if a person didn’t believe in love that meant they’d always be alone. She didn’t want to think that was forever. She wanted to prove to him that love was real, enduring, true. And if that meant she had to fly across an ocean to do so, she would.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Charlotte said.

  Chapter 12

  Wyatt

  After the hard sell of having to convince Charlotte to take the trip with him, Wyatt arranged their travel and she dealt with finding the dogs a place to stay. Fortunately, she was good friends with the owner of an animal rescue center who didn’t mind the extra mouths to feed for the next days until she got back. Charlotte refused to let him pay the woman for her effort, but she couldn’t stop him from finding the Wags and Purrs website and making a generous donation in her name.

  She reluctantly left the townhouse to the waiting SUV with dark windows that idled at the curb waiting for them. On the ride to the airport, she texted her brother and a few other people, letting them know she’d be out of town. He watched her with curiosity, feeling a mixture of loyalty to Will and fierce protection over his sister as well as an awareness of her that he couldn’t ignore. Her eyes for one thing. Her neck for another. The way she bit the inside of her lip when she was thinking. How her hair was so silky straight and the way it swooshed when she moved her head.

  He let out a long sigh that got her attention.

  “Glad to be going home?” she asked.

  “Now that you’re coming with me.”

  It was her turn to sigh. “It’s not like you gave me much of a choice.”

  “You always have a choice.” If she’d absolutely refused, of course, he wouldn’t have forced her. He wasn’t a barbarian. Although he didn’t believe in forever, he believed in the now and she needed to do something about her situation in the present, otherwise, he feared for her future. Leaving always worked to get him unstuck; he figured it may as well for her too.

  “I always have a choice? You make it sound easy,” she said blithely, gazing out the window.

  “I didn’t say that it was easy. Well, choosing between snogs and kisses definitely is easy, but—” He felt the need to lighten the mood.

  That got her attention.

  “They’re the same. Kisses are kisses.”

  “I thought we were talking about frozen yogurt and chocolate candies?” He stopped himself from letting out a cheer of triumph. Of what, he wasn’t sure.

  But for one thing, back at the townhouse, she’d finally met his eyes. In them, he saw that she witnessed what he felt—not that he’d ever give words to it. He saw what she felt beyond the pain—what she didn’t want to admit. They were the same in that way.

  Their attraction to each other was magnetic, undeniable, and it was mutual. But it was also dangerous, forbidden. That saying, what happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas, well, for him that was true. But it didn’t apply to the ranch and he couldn’t blur the lines—tease them a little maybe, but he wouldn’t step over them. He couldn’t do that to Will.

  The private plane that Wyatt chartered waited on the tarmac.

  “Is this Will’s doing?” Charlotte asked, drawing him from his thoughts.

  Wyatt started to shake his head.

  “Oh, wait. You guys like fast things. Is this a turbojet or something?”

  “Not as far as I know.” He shrugged. Because he no longer traveled that often, he’d sold his plane, but had a retainer with a company anytime he wanted to travel.

  “Did you get used to living the high life during your modeling days?”

  “High life you say? Thirty thousand feet is rather high,” he said, feigning deep consideration. He imagined she’d have been accustomed to—and not object to—a life of luxury. Then again, she did mention she used to live in Shoreditch. He’d been to plenty of clubs there. Did she have a hang up surrounding money?

  “Are you too good to fly commercial?” she asked. “Don’t want to hear crying babies?”

  Wyatt shrugged. Was she going to punish him for insisting she travel with him? “If you haven’t noticed I’m a large person and I’m more comfortable being able to stretch my legs. Trust me, I’m no fun after being cooped up and unable to move.”

  “I just don’t understand why Will has to be so flashy, flaunt his wealth, and spend so much all the time. Figures that he sent his plane to bring you to and from the wedding.”

  Wyatt’s brow wrinkled. It was her brother’s money to spend how he wanted to. However, in that instance, she was mistaken. Perhaps she didn’t know about Wyatt’s vast holdings.

  Nonetheless, she boarded without further complaint aside from a cute little huff.

  The aircraft was well appointed with comfortable leather chairs and entertainment consoles. But Charlotte seemed content to watch their departure through the window as they left London. Then she settled into her chair, closed her eyes, and fell asleep.

  Wyatt took the opportunity to do his daily routine catching up on news, evaluating his investments, and touching base with several of his financial advisors. He’d slacked off a bit the last days in London because officially he was on vacation, bu
t it was back to business at the ranch. Well, as much as possible with a house guest.

  Charlotte roused when the plane started its descent.

  “Did you have a nice nap sans crying babies and cramped seating?” he teased.

  She smoothed her hair and sat up. “I just don’t understand why my brother has to be so—” As she looked around, she must’ve read the smirk on his face. “Wait. This isn’t my brother’s plane unless he got a new one. He gave Birdie and me a tour once.” Her mouth fell open. “Do you have a private jet too?”

  He shook his head. “I hired it. Wanted you to travel comfortably.”

  Her nostrils flared.

  Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

  She folded her arms across her chest, sat back in her seat, and was quiet until they landed.

  Once outside, Wyatt stretched, glad to be back on his home soil.

  Charlotte looked around and took a deep breath. “It’s a bit humid.”

  “It’ll cool off at night,” he said.

  Waiting on the airstrip was his trusty 1970 Chevrolet Cheyenne truck. A smile rose to his lips.

  Charlotte faltered, perhaps she was still tired. Flying sometimes did that despite taking a nap. Or maybe she expected the typical black SUV with dark windows.

  Wyatt placed his hand on her lower back and guided her forward. The placement reminded him of the dance Will all but forced them into. The tarmac was a decidedly larger dancefloor, but his thoughts carried him to the front porch of the ranch and then he yanked them away. She was his best friend’s sister. He wouldn’t overstep bounds but that didn’t stop the ripple of desire to move through him. He smoothed out his breath as they reached the vehicle. Wyatt clapped his hand on the top of the bed. “Ole trusty.”

  “More like rusty,” she said. “Are you sure this is going to get us wherever we’re going?”

  “You trusted me in the McLaren.”

  “I’d say this truck is a touch different.”

  “Older, yes. Rustier, I’ll give you that. But she’s a beauty. Purrs like a kitten.” He opened the passenger side door and helped her in. “And despite my flight preferences, I’m not that different from you. I live a fairly humble life.”

  “Yeah. Right. If you haven’t noticed, you don’t have three jobs and a kid.”

  “You’re right for the most part, but I do have two jobs—taking care of the ranch and tending to my investments—and twenty-nine horses.”

  “It’s not the same,” she said.

  “I know but there’s nothing worse in the world than thinking we’re alone in our experiences.” He was just trying to reach out. To connect. She resisted and he wasn’t sure why.

  An uncomfortable silence passed between them, only broken by him cranking the truck’s engine.

  After maneuvering toward the exit, he explained, “This was my grandfather’s truck and got him where he wanted to go without fail. It sat in the barn for the last decade and a half, but I restored under the hood. The interior and exterior still need a little work. How are you with a wrench?”

  She laughed it off, but he wasn’t joking. He figured some rest and relaxation at the ranch was in order, but he’d also share his work life running the place and some of his hobbies with her.

  As they cruised along the country roads she said, “I thought you liked fast things.”

  He glanced at the speedometer. “What? A smooth fifty-five miles per hour isn’t fast enough for you?” he smirked. “You’re right, I do like fast things. Also interesting things and things with history. Places too. Adventures. I like a story.”

  “Tell me one.”

  “I thought you were the writer.”

  “Trying to be. Tell me about your adventures. Maybe it’ll give me inspiration.”

  A funny thought flitted past like a firefly; she was his inspiration. Then like those little lightning bugs, it went dark and disappeared.

  “Okay, how about this one,” he started. “I went wild camping, trekking through the Himalayas, and white water rafting in Nepal. On that trip, I learned that I have an inexplicable fear of putting my bare feet in murky water. But I did it anyway. Then another time I explored the rugged peaks of Patagonia.”

  “Did you learn something about yourself there?”

  “I don’t enjoy being cold, but sometimes you have to go through things that aren’t entirely comfortable to get to the good stuff. To show yourself how strong you are and how far you can go…and sometimes when you arrive, the views are spectacular. Unless it’s cloudy.”

  “Was it cloudy?”

  “Yep. But I opted to stay an extra two days with dwindling supplies to see the views.”

  “Was it worth it?”

  “Always.” Wyatt’s excursions consistently taught him something about himself. During the drive, as he continued to tell Charlotte about his adventures, he hoped to impart upon her those lessons that had been so hard won for him.

  “Have you been to any warmer climates? I don’t like being cold either.”

  “Sometimes it’s necessary to step outside our comfort zones, but there is the island. No electricity or anything there. Totally off the grid. I’m neighbors with Will. Haven’t been there in ages though.”

  “No electricity? You’re daring.”

  “I suppose you could say that,” he said as he slowed at the turnoff to the ranch. He took a deep breath, anticipating returning home.

  “Besides some parts of Europe. I haven’t traveled much—you know, with Birdie and all. That was more Will’s thing.”

  “If you could go anywhere in the world where would you go?”

  “Easy. Provence. It was Sydney’s favorite.”

  “What about yours? Your favorite I mean.”

  She shrugged. “Your island sounds nice. Then I could be close to Will. I think he really likes it there. How about you?” she asked as the truck braked.

  “The ranch. Though from what I remember—as I said, I haven’t been in a while—the island is a close second.”

  “What’s it called?

  “Rolling Hills Ranch.” He took in the view of home. There were rolling hills for sure with pockets of wildflower fields and plenty of space to roam.

  “I meant what’s the name of the island?” she asked.

  “It’s just a bunch of coordinates right now.”

  “Does that mean Will named the island he won from you?”

  Wyatt chuckled as he got out of the truck. “Nope. I thought he’d appreciate Isla Encanta.”

  “Love Island. I thought you didn’t believe in love.”

  He planted his hand on her shoulder after opening the door for her. The touch rushed him with a thrill. “No, darlin’. I just don’t believe in forever.” But as the words left his lips and his eyes sank into hers, he knew it was a lie.

  Chapter 13

  Charlotte

  Charlotte was annoyed that Wyatt went through the trouble and expense to fly them on the private jet. She didn’t like people spending money on her. In fact, she’d forbade Will spoil her after he’d gifted her with designer clothing, new furniture, a car, and more after he’d become successful. But she couldn’t stop him from doting on Birdie—not that her daughter minded.

  From an early age, Charlotte learned that money didn’t grow on trees. She worked hard for everything she had. It didn’t sit well with her for other people to spend their cash on things she probably didn’t need. Her mother had been careless with money and they’d struggled. Being around wealth made her uncomfortable because it could all disappear in a blink. Enough could easily turn into none.

  She tried to squish the thoughts deep down and enjoy the moment of arrival at the ranch.

  “Welcome,” Wyatt said, opening his arms as they approached the ranch house. A large tree was in the front yard with a tire swing that Birdie would love.

  It was an enormous single-level sprawling home with a wide front porch had an overhang. There was a pair of rocking chairs a few paces away.
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  Wyatt grabbed their luggage and she followed him along a stone path to the door. He elbowed it open and let her step inside first.

  Was it modest? No.

  Was it simple? Nope.

  Was it humble? Definitely not.

  The ranch house was rustic elegance with vaulted timber beam ceilings, a custom kitchen with high-end appliances—she knew that only because of her brother’s remodeling projects—and a magnificent stone hearth on the far wall of the great room. It was magnificent expect there was hardly any furniture.

  “Do you really live here or is this a preview model?” She was only half joking.

  He chuckled. “Yes. I had to reschedule the interior designer who’s going to finish furnishing the space, but it’s starting to feel like home again. It took me nearly a year to have it restored. I lived in the barn during the bulk of the work. I think the horses miss me.” He passed her a bottle of sparkling water.

  “Did you grow up here?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Grew up in a trailer about ten miles away. This was my granddaddy’s place. He was the heart and soul of the ranch when I was growing up. He died when I was out traveling the world, modeling.” Wyatt shook his head with disgust or some equally sharp-edged emotion. He took a long sip of water. “Sometimes things change and not always for the better.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “No comment.”

  There was a single chair in the living room atop a large area rug. She guessed the chair belonged to his grandfather. Floor to ceiling windows lined another wall overlooking the pastures and hills.

  “We get the sunrise through these windows here and the sunset off the deck. My grandfather designed it that way on purpose. Early morning breakfast and sunshine to wake him up, cold drink and sunset at the end of the day.” Wyatt winked as though the simple delight found in that was their little secret.

  She wandered away from what seemed like painful emotions and Wyatt’s irresistible wink and toward a custom oak bookshelf that lined one wall. It was inset with thick texts, a few photos, and items Wyatt must’ve collected from his travels.