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

by Ellie Hall

  “And my other promise is to get some furniture in here soon. I have to get in touch with the designer. Her business card is around here somewhere. I’ve been busy.”

  “Busy visiting London. Now, where’s that dessert I promised to eat?” It didn’t seem like she wanted to talk further about her troubles.

  In addition to being beautiful and independent, she was a private person. He knew all too well it was to protect herself.

  “How about a Kiss to end the evening?”

  She staggered back.

  Wyatt opened his hand and produced the two Hershey’s Kisses.

  Her hand clapped against her chest with relief. “I thought you meant—”

  “I know what you thought I meant.” He smirked.

  Would it be so bad kissing him? It had been a while, months since he’d even held hands with a woman. No, that wasn’t true, he’d held hands with Charlotte, several times. Even earlier that day he’d gripped her palm as he helped her onto the horse. And it was in that contact, tracking all the way back to London, that he felt their connection.

  It was strong but secret.

  Forbidden but desired.

  A lot but not enough.

  She took the candy and popped it into her mouth. “Wait. Did you take this from the jar at my house?”

  “By rights, half were mine.”

  “Oh, that’s right, Mr. Lawyer.”

  They laughed and chatted a few minutes as the fireflies danced in the fields before retiring for the night.

  Wyatt laid in bed, thinking about Charlotte in the other room fast asleep.

  Charlotte in his great room, seated at the kitchen island.

  Charlotte in the waning sunlight, making her skin glow.

  On the back of Kingston, with her arms wrapped around him.

  Charlotte.

  “She’s Will’s sister,” he reminded himself.

  “She has a lot going on,” he warned.

  “I do not need to get involved with women.”

  But even with the cautions, the blaze in his chest wouldn’t extinguish. The image of her in his mind wouldn’t go dark. The sound of her voice, in both English and French, wouldn’t silence.

  But he heard something else, filtering through the otherwise silent house. A man’s voice.

  Chapter 15

  Charlotte

  Charlotte listened to Sydney’s final message to her on her voicemail, as she did every night before she fell asleep. When he’d left it, she’d been in the park with Birdie, a rare occasion that she forgot her phone. His voice was ragged, but it still soothed her. She missed his company, his jokes, and how he had an answer for everything. Even though he was wealthy, he was sensible if not creative.

  Broken spatula? Duct tape.

  Broken car? Duct tape.

  Broken heart? That he could only heal if he hadn’t passed.

  She reflected on the many kinds of love there were, including the true love Sydney wanted her to find when the door to the guest bedroom burst open. Her finger hit the pause button on her phone, stopping the replay of the message.

  Wyatt stood there, eyes darting around the room, alarmed and agitated. He wore flannel pajama bottoms and nothing on top, highlighting the strong curve of his muscular shoulders, his chiseled biceps, and the broad plane of his chest. In his hands, he held a balled up white T-shirt. His expression was thunderous, as though he was ready to fight.

  “You’re okay?” he asked, nearly panting.

  She nodded, confused. “I’m fine.” But she wiped away a tear.

  He tugged his shirt over his shoulders, but the image of his defined abs burned in her mind, sending tingles through her. Some may have called it a washboard stomach. All she knew was the sight of his brawny maleness made her insides feel anything but neat and tidy.

  She had a sheet over her and snugged it over her shoulder, sliding the phone underneath.

  His eyes flicked to it. “I thought someone was in here with you. Were you talking to a man?”

  She shook her head.

  “Were you crying?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  Filling the doorway, he shifted from foot to foot. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  She moved and inadvertently pressed play on the message.

  “

  My darling Charlotte. It’s time for us to say goodbye, not forever because I’ll always be with you. But to the past. Move on from brokenness, mistakes, regrets. Remember that little pumpkin seed we tried to so hard to make grow?” Sydney forced back a laugh. “Birdie wanted it to turn into a carriage so she could go to the palace for the ball. Well, that little seed had to push its way out of the shell, sprout in the darkness of the soil, seek nutrients, light, and warmth all before it pressed its way into the fresh air. You, my darling, for all your strength and intelligence and caretaking of others must do the same thing. But for yourself. You’ve suffered enough. I fear that if that suffering becomes familiar you might get stuck and not move on. As my last wish, I ask you to open your heart. Let the light shine in. Feel the warmth. Let your love grow. No one ever regrets loving. It’s the other stuff that makes life messy and painful. But you’re strong. You can do it. We never leave the ones we love. Love is forever. I hope you let yourself find your forever .”

  She let the message play in its entirety because she didn’t want to cut Sydney off again and because she wanted Wyatt to hear that she wasn’t the only one who believed in forever.

  As quickly as Wyatt had entered the room, he was by her side, kneeling on the floor beside the bed.

  Tears streamed down Charlotte’s face. She could never hold them back. Wyatt didn’t wipe them away, but he smoothed her hair. The expression on his face was of deep concern, also care as if it physically pained him to see her upset.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  She shook her head and sniffled. “So you weren’t alarmed, I should’ve told you that I listen to this every night before I go to bed.”

  He rocked back on his heels. “When would that have come up in conversation?”

  Her shoulder lifted and lowered. “It helps me sleep.”

  “From where I sit, or rather kneel, it seems like it upsets you. You miss him and trust me, I know what that’s like. But it sounded like he wanted you to be happy. Not sad.” Wyatt’s voice was as gentle as the night.

  “I just don’t know what to do. I’m still like that pumpkin seed, struggling to see the light in all of this loss.”

  Wyatt inclined his head. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Again, she shrugged. “No, but thanks for coming to my rescue if there had been an intruder.”

  “Of course.” He got to his feet and walked to the door. Before exiting, he said, “Good thing tomorrow is Sunday. I may not be able to help, but I know who can.”

  Charlotte nodded. “Thanks, Wyatt,” she said. Her mind and heart clashed with the familiar pang of missing Sydney along with Wyatt’s unfamiliar thoughtfulness, carrying over into her dreams, along with visions of his hunky physique.

  The next morning, clouds hung in the sky as Wyatt and Charlotte drove to church in the rusty truck that he clearly adored. She understood how he clung to the memory of his grandfather just as she hung onto Sydney’s message. But as she glanced over to him freshly shaven, wearing a stylish button-down shirt, and smoothly shifting gears, her mind drifted to the night before. Powerful images filled her dreams of him taking her in his arms and carrying her far from all her troubles. A sigh escaped.

  “How’d you sleep?” He cleared his throat. “After, we, uh, said good night for the second time.”

  “Great. Thank you. Also, I’m sorry you had to see me so upset. You can just forget about it. I’m fine.”

  His gaze snapped to her, but she focused on the road ahead as the truck cruised over the hills. The scenery was beautiful, wide fields with golden grass rippling like waves in the breeze. Trees dotted the horizon. Pastures with horses grazing spread in every direction
. It was an easy place to lose her thoughts and woes.

  As the breeze gusted through the open windows of the truck, she caught Wyatt’s manly scent, a mixture of cologne mixed with fresh, country air. She breathed deep, but couldn’t make her thoughts settle, not with him transfixing her senses.

  Uncertainty kept them both from speaking and they remained silent for the duration of the ride.

  The church was already in a reverent hush when they entered. Wyatt led them to what seemed to be his usual seat. An older woman scooted over slightly while at the same time appraising Charlotte with a careful eye. She had to sit close to him at the end of the pew, thigh to thigh because apparently, he didn’t often have a companion.

  The service began and unlike the beautiful vistas on the ride over, Charlotte wasn’t distracted. In fact, she was acutely aware of the emptiness in her heart. During a moment of prayer, it occurred to her what Wyatt had meant the night before when he said he knew who could help her. From the darkness of her own mind, she turned over her struggles to the light, to God. She prayed.

  She didn’t have a transformative moment, bursting through the soil and into the sunshine, but when she followed Wyatt toward the exit, her footsteps lighter, as though some of her burdens had been lifted. For the first time in a long time, she connected to that which was stronger than she. But as they neared the entry, she felt heavy with eyes watching her.

  People were staring, whispering.

  “Who’s that?” one woman asked. “I’ve never seen her before.”

  “She’s with Wyatt,” another answered.

  “Do you think she’s his new Mrs.-to-be?”

  Charlotte shuffled closer to him, uncomfortable.

  His fingers found hers. She felt both grounded and like she was floating among the clouds in the sky. They stopped amidst the crowd that gathered just outside the church as several people flocked to them.

  Wyatt was cordial and ever the gentleman, introducing Charlotte to a woman who claimed to make the best cherry pie and suggesting they ought to stop over for a slice.

  Another woman, along with her husband, invited them for a barbecue.

  A couple skipped the formalities and launched into a twenty-question grilling session, asking Charlotte about where she came from, what she was doing there, and what she did for work. She played along and did her best to keep up as Mr. and Mrs. Trainor took turns.

  “How do you like it here? Isn’t this a lovely church?” Without giving Charlotte the opportunity to answer, the woman plowed ahead, gripping her husband’s arm. “You know, my sister makes the best wedding cakes. You were there when Sally and Wesley got married, right Wyatt?” Mrs. Trainor asked.

  He nodded and exhaled, stopping her just short of asking them if they’d set a date yet. “All this talk about food has got my stomach grumbling. We’re going to head to the diner now, but it was sure nice seeing you all.”

  “I see Wyatt here every week, but don’t you be a stranger.” Mrs. Trainor smiled at Charlotte. “I’d love for you two to stop by some afternoon. Charlotte, you must try some of my sweet tea and you can compare it to the stuff they have back home.”

  Charlotte smiled. “I’d be delighted.”

  After two more people stopped them for chit chat, they finally made it to the truck.

  “You’re rather popular,” Charlotte said.

  “I’d claim it was my handsome good looks, but—” He glanced at her.

  She begged and failed for her cheeks not to heat. Charlotte hadn’t been in the market for a guy with good looks or any guy for that matter. She’d hardly been paying attention to that kind of thing, but there was no denying that Wyatt Jones was one fine specimen. Her cheeks went full-on cherry red and she thought of the pie. Her stomach grumbled. Her hand flew to her tummy, mortified at the loud noise.

  Wyatt chuckled. “It’s you who they’re interested in.”

  “Me? I’m hardly interesting. I work at a bank, walk dogs…”

  “You’re that and so much more.” At another grumble from her stomach, he added, “And apparently hungry.”

  That was true, but she hung onto his comment about how she was more. Her body responded to the fact that Wyatt had noticed her. It was a foreign feeling and she longed for the safety of what was familiar and for her cheeks to return to their normal shade.

  During the short drive, Wyatt gave her a brief who’s-who run down of the people they’d met at church. His easy drawl distracted her. Barely. At the diner, and after another round of greetings from various locals, including a rather crotchety man who was shaped like a balloon, asking Wyatt when he was going to sell him some acreage, they sat at a booth in the back.

  Charlotte recognized the red vinyl seats and Formica tabletops from the classic fifties movies Sydney enjoyed. She tried to push away the sadness that inevitably came at any and all reminders of him. Her eyes filled.

  Wyatt’s hand reached across the table for hers and his thumb stroked the soft space between her thumb and first finger. “Hey, did church help?”

  She smiled, grateful.

  “I’m asking because it’s important for me to know how effective my prayers are, especially so I can get old Harold over there off my back about selling off my land.” His face cracked into a smile. Of course, he was joking and that was enough to turn her frown around. “Ah, that’s more like it. I like to see you smile.” He leaned in. “And I’ll tell you what, the small population of Cedar Creek, Texas likes to hear you talk.”

  “Me? What do you mean? I hardly have anything interesting to say other than things about Birdie.”

  Wyatt smiled. “That and your accent. I imagine they find it,” he hesitated as though finding the right word, “charming.” He leaned in and said, “But I find it enchanting.”

  The server came over and brought them each a menu. “No need, Wyatt said. “We’re both getting a slice of cherry pie, please.”

  “Pie for breakfast?” Charlotte asked. She gripped the menu if only to hide her once more blazing cheeks when his comment caught up to her. She peeked around the side.

  The server, a woman with a high blond ponytail, said, “Oh, Wyatt comes in here and eats pie all meals of the day. Everyone does. It’s that good.”

  “But don’t tell Nancy Dobbins. No, her pie is the best.” Wyatt winked as the server went to get their order.

  “Wasn’t Nancy Dobbins the one who invited me over for pie?”

  Wyatt nodded. “It’s an old rivalry between Nancy and her sister Sandy. Goes back about thirty or forty years. Story goes that this diner held a pie baking contest and the winner would receive payment for their recipe and it’d be featured here on the menu. The sisters prepared the exact same recipe and entered the exact same pie.”

  Charlotte’s eyebrow lifted. “Then how did Sandy’s pie win?”

  “One of the judges was a fellow named Judd Dobbins. Sandy had a crush on him since high school. But he had a crush on Nancy. In order to let Sandy down easy, he said her pie was better and then asked Nancy to marry him.”

  “Wow,” Charlotte said.

  “And Nancy has never let him forget that he thought Sandy made a better cherry pie.”

  “Obviously, he liked Nancy better. I guess she wanted to have her pie and eat it too.” Charlotte laughed softly.

  Wyatt smirked as the server set down plates in front of them with two slices of cherry pie, topped with homemade whipped cream and chocolate shavings.

  Charlotte took a bite and said, “It’s delicious.”

  “I’m glad you like it, but I imagine you’ll like my apple hand pies even better.”

  “Too bad you weren’t around to enter the contest.”

  “I wouldn’t have wanted to ruin Judd’s grand plans though.”

  As they sat in the booth and chatted, once again, eyes landed on Charlotte and then furtively glanced away.

  Wyatt leaned closer and lowered his voice conspiratorially. “I’ve been going to church and coming here solo for a long time
. It’s a small town. They’re curious about you and me.”

  Charlotte practically choked on the flakey, buttery crust of the last bite of pie. She took a long sip of water. You and me. The words hung in her mind and it was as if they slowly drove away the clouds.

  Wyatt’s voice came back to her. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine. I swallowed wrong.”

  He went on, “And my grandfather was well known. Beloved in fact. The Jones men have something of a legacy here.”

  “Did people like your grandfather’s apple hand pies as much as this cherry pie?”

  “More, so much more.”

  “In that case, you owe me the recipe,” she said, recalling Birdie’s bid to bake the pies with Wyatt, but she had to get ready for camp.

  She missed her daughter terribly, but knew she was enjoying herself at camp. And Charlotte would’ve been lying if she didn’t admit she was having a good time too.

  Chapter 16

  Wyatt

  Wyatt hadn’t been thinking about the reception he and Charlotte would receive at church. All he’d been focused on was helping her loosen the reins of sadness over her loss. He’d suffered similarly in the past and knew there was only one solution, dropping down to his knees and surrendering through prayer. But he wasn’t expecting half the church congregation to get to their feet and greet the two of them, pepper them with questions and invitations, and certainly not to suggest marriage.

  That was off the table. But what was on the table, was the Dobbins sisters’ famous cherry pie. It was indeed delicious and as he took his last bite, he couldn’t help but imagine Charlotte’s lips would be just as sweet.

  His fork clattered to the plate at the thought. “Oops. Clumsy me,” he said when she looked up in alarm, having just recovered from nearly choking.

  Wyatt paid the bill and as they returned to the truck, they slipped into a kind of silence that was heavy with words they were afraid to speak and desires unexpressed.

  Back at the ranch, when he put the vehicle in park, he said, “Looks like it might get sunny.”