Bargaining with the Billionaire (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove)

by Maria Hoagland

  “True, but try me. It just might help.”

  She shrugged. It did sound nuts, but maybe she’d try it, give herself permission to forget about it for a while. She jumped up and held out her hands to pull him up as well. “You did promise me lunch, didn’t you?”

  His stomach lurched at her touch. “I did.”

  He liked her, but he needed to keep her at a distance. Things were just too complicated. They were next-door neighbors in a building he should be focused on protecting. He had a brand-new business that needed a lot of his time. And she was the daughter of a friend who may or may not be excited for them to date. Not to mention he was pretty sure that friend said she wasn’t planning to live in Eureka Springs full time. As an adrenaline junkie, he would allow himself to feel all the tingles and stomach flips being in her presence gave him, but only inwardly. Pursuing a summer romance wasn’t part of his five-year business plan.

  9

  Fed by nature and soothed by laughter, Autumn came away from her day on the bike trails relaxed and inspired—and finally ready to create. Who knew the mind game of letting Kian take her worries for a few hours would actually work?

  As soon as Kian parked across from Spokes, Autumn jumped out, called out thank yous and goodbyes, and jogged up the steps to the Looking Glass.

  “You back?” Katrina’s expression was a combination of surprised and hopeful.

  “Give me a minute to clean up?” Autumn hooked a thumb toward the restroom, and Katrina nodded.

  “Don’t lose the flowers.” As Katrina raised her brow and the pitch of her voice, Autumn felt her face flush. “They look good on you,” Katrina said, trying to smooth away Autumn’s embarrassment.

  A few minutes later, changed and freshened up, Autumn let her employee take off for the remainder of the evening, just as excited as she was to make the switch. Customers were light, and Autumn didn’t want to feel compelled to give Katrina a rundown of the day—especially not about Kian—not when she had so many ideas surging through her mind.

  Ready to work, she pulled the flowers from her hair so she could lean over her sketchbook without them falling out. Mulling over ideas, she studied the small cluster of lavender-colored blossoms for the first time, unable to get over the tiny perfection of each delicate flower.

  This was exactly the kind of thing that had inspired her today. Nature really was a wonder. The simple complexities, the variations in color, the textures, each little detail would be her springboard, though not in a literal sense.

  She sketched plants from her memory, but translating them into jewelry would take some creativity. Page after page filled as she brainstormed with her pencil, the ideas tumbling over her like the waterfall. By the time the sun set and the customers stopped coming, Autumn had several pieces planned that she felt really good about.

  Almost as soon as she flipped over the Closed sign, Kian’s speakers turned up, and she didn’t even care. Now that she had an idea for the design, she felt free and happy. She danced across the room to the music, sashaying to retrieve the tin of colored pencils from her bag. Back at the worktable, she set about colorizing sketches, singing along with Thomas Rhett at the top of her lungs until the music ended mid-song. Only momentarily thrown off, she took over singing solo as she worked on the design that had her most fired up.

  The white-gold ring with gemstones would look like a couple of dragonflies. Amethyst bodies lined the shank, head to head on a small diamond flower. She’d just finished filling in the emerald wings when the song started again—her timing lining up almost perfectly, and surprisingly, she wasn’t that far off pitch. When she completed the sketch, she held it out, examining the ring and loving everything about it. Except . . .

  Except she only had one week before her meeting with Veronica. Carving the wax for this particular piece alone would take all that time, leaving her unable to even have one finished piece for Veronica to hold in her hand. When the song was over, she set down her pencils and folded her arms, glaring at the sketchbook as if it were responsible for the time crunch.

  Irritated that she had a great idea she wasn’t sure she could pull off, she gathered her hair together in a thick ponytail and leaned back in the stool, doing the math in her head. Did she even have time for lost wax casting fifty original pieces of jewelry? In two months? There was no way.

  Her excitement for this project was fading, and fast. She had to do something to change its trajectory. She flipped back through the other sketches. Was any of this any good? She liked the concept, but maybe the designs needed to be simpler. Frustrated, she picked up the wilting flowers on her table and dumped them in the waste can. This was fruitless. She’d spent hours sketching out designs no one else would appreciate.

  The most annoying part was that she felt so far out of her element. In the past, the pieces she’d designed that were most successful worked because she’d been able to meet with the client directly. How was she supposed to do this in a vacuum? This whole project was a shot in the dark. She slammed the sketchbook closed.

  Suddenly exhausted, she packed up her things in favor of a decent, home-cooked meal. She texted her chef and locked up the shop. As she passed Spokes, she couldn’t help but glance over. The silhouette of a tall, muscled man stood in the window, looking out at the street. She stopped and waved. Almost automatically, she signed good night. Though she didn’t expect him to know exactly what she said, she hoped he would recognize it as a gesture of goodwill. She was about to turn toward the parking lot so she could cross the road when he surprised her with an answer.

  Thank you for all your help, he signed and then waved back.

  The irritation around her heart instantly melted. She would get the jewelry design. She was so close, and much of her success was due to Kian. He was a mix of surprises and contradictions, as were her feelings for him. In the few weeks that she’d known him, he’d been equal measures heroic and annoying. He kept score on everything and gave so freely when she wasn’t expecting it.

  She unlocked her car and got in, noticing he was still at the window. Had it been the guy who was hitting on her at the blues festival, she would have been creeped out knowing he’d watched her walk to her car, but with Kian, she felt protected. The warmth she’d felt in her chest at his thank-you spread through her entire body, and she felt a smile break across her face.

  As she drove past his shop, she was the one to sign thank you, and he smiled before turning slowly away.

  10

  Today had been a good day—not the one Kian had imagined when he’d gotten the booking for the bike tour, but so much better. Now that he was back at Spokes, though, he had to get the bills paid and the emails answered. Until he could hire an assistant to do the office work, he would force himself to take care of these boring housekeeping tasks. At least he’d had his time with Autumn this afternoon to entertain him. Just thinking about her now made his spirits soar.

  He settled in to work on his computer, and with the good feelings pumping, he turned on some music to reflect that. He liked many genres, but today was a country day; he could feel it in his bones. He picked a playlist and connected to his speakers, blasting the tunes through the speakers on both floors of his establishment.

  Struggling with his spreadsheet but feeling confident he could figure it out, he was halfway through singing along with the first song when his mind snapped to the memory of Autumn knocking on his door in the middle of the night. She’d been so beautiful with her face flushed and a fiery spark in her eyes as she ‘d laid out her case as to why he should turn down his music. Ever since that night, when he got a hint of her spicy personality, she’d been all he could think about. While he would love to have her come down and demand he turn it down again, she’d already sacrificed so much for him that day. He could do a little something for her.

  With the click of a few buttons, he dropped the volume significantly and refocused on his computer screen. The chorus started again, and through his office ceiling, he heard a wo
man’s voice pelting out the words along with the male vocalist.

  He shook his head. Was Autumn singing? Curious to prove it to himself, he dropped the volume altogether. Even without his music to sing along to, Autumn’s voice continued, strong and beautiful. She was good. If the jewelry thing didn’t work out, she should look into singing country music. He’d love to see her onstage. Though her singing brightened his boring clerical work, eavesdropping didn’t feel quite right, so after a few more bars, he turned the volume back up so she could enjoy the rest of the song in private.

  An hour later, after closing the lid to his laptop, Kian stood at the downstairs window overlooking Main Street. Watching Eureka Springs wind down for the night had quickly become part of his evening routine. He waited until the sun disappeared, the tourist traffic died down, and the town went to sleep, before he did as well.

  Actually, it had started when Autumn had come down in the middle of the night to complain about his music. She was altogether too trusting. What was she thinking, a young woman walking the dark streets alone? Even in Small Town, Arkansas, that wasn’t the wisest choice for personal safety. So whether she knew it or not, every night when he wasn’t in the middle of a show, he kept an eye out for her, just making sure she made it to her car safely. It was a small thing that she would never know, but it eased his mind.

  He was still standing there when Autumn caught him gazing out the window. His first instinct was to turn away so she wouldn’t suspect what he’d been doing, but there was no way for her to know. Besides, she’d already looked straight at him.

  Play it cool, he told himself.

  She waved and signed good night. It wasn’t until he was automatically signing back that realization struck. Almost everyone knew thank you, the first part of the phrase he’d responded with as he’d thought about all she’d done for him that day, but good night meant she actually knew some sign language, and she looked like she understood his entire sentiment. He tucked that tidbit into his back pocket for later discussion. For now, he was surprised she was calling it an early night for once.

  He hoped she’d gotten done what she needed to. The woman had saved his bacon that afternoon. She’d been the perfect buffer, the ideal addition to the riding party. From the waterfall on, the four of them had enjoyed the day together, laughing through lunch and chatting over the rest of the trails. He’d commandeered a huge chunk of Autumn’s day, and he owed her big time.

  As soon as he watched her drive away, he turned, his eyes landing on the small stack of boxes behind the counter. Guilt stabbed at him painfully. What he needed to do was deliver the packages. He hadn’t meant to cause Autumn so much stress by delaying their delivery. He’d meant to get them to her sooner than this, but hadn’t figured out how exactly to do so. Now, he just felt awful for messing up her plans.

  A couple days before, Scooby Price, town goofball, had come into Spokes, filling in for the UPS delivery guy who’d called in sick. At the time, Scooby’s arms were loaded up with more boxes for the Looking Glass than for Spokes, and the two of them got to talking about Autumn. Kian had joked about how he was trying to make her think the building was haunted by the ghost of Mafalda.

  “Why don’t you leave her boxes here, and I’ll deliver them in a few?” Kian had suggested, not stipulating a specific unit of time.

  Scooby, of course, had known exactly what Kian was up to, and laughing, he’d left her packages on the counter. It had only been a couple of days, but Kian hadn’t intended for Mafalda to be a mean ghost, just an annoying one. It was time to deliver.

  After giving Autumn time to drive away, he hefted three boxes, opened the door to the inside staircase, and made his way up to his office. Once there, he switched on a weak desk lamp—just enough light to keep him from tripping, but not enough to raise suspicions in case someone saw him through the window. The floor between Spokes and the Looking Glass was equally divided into two storage rooms, one for each shop, and a hidden secret. Kian was ninety-nine percent sure Autumn and her father had no idea there was a passageway between the storage rooms.

  Using the trick his grandfather had taught him when he was maybe six or seven, Kian connected the currents of a hidden electromagnet. This released the lock that kept the door undiscoverable. Cautiously, he opened the passageway, moonlight bathing the other room in a silver glow.

  It was a good thing the wall slid inside itself, because Tommy had boxes and crates and a couple of freestanding storage shelves lining the wall. Kian picked his way into the room, careful not to disturb anything, not that Mafalda wouldn’t move anything—he’d covered his tracks well enough on that account—but because he didn’t want anything to alert Autumn where to look. About to leave the delivery there with a few other boxes, Kian hesitated. If he left them in the storage room, the risk was high that Autumn wouldn’t find them for a few more days.

  Stepping into the Looking Glass in the dim light in the middle of the night was a surreal experience. Quiet and still without his ghost soundtrack, it had a peaceful vibe. He nudged a wastebasket out of the way and set the stack of boxes next to the worktable. That looked too obvious. He grabbed an apron off the hook and draped it across them, as if the boxes had been there a while and she’d somehow just missed them. As he stood, he noticed the flowers he’d given her lying in the trash. Reflexively, he pulled them out, remembering the softness of her hair, the velvet of her ear as he’d placed it there. It had been a good day made so much better because of her. He set the flowers on the worktable, reluctant to leave.

  With his delivery made, he should go back downstairs, but he felt compelled to stay. This was the place she spent much of her day. Light from the streetlamps shone through the stained glass, sending faint laser-like rays of color onto the worktable. In the middle sat her sketchbook, and while he had absolutely no right, curiosity urged him to lift the cardboard cover. Planning only to take a peek, he was drawn in by her eye for detail and her singular creativity. Recognizing the delicate flowers he’d given her rendered as a ring, he folded back the spiral cover so this design was on top. Carefully, he arranged the flowers around the sketch. This was the one that had his vote, but if asked, he would blame Mafalda.

  11

  Before heading into Eureka Springs the next day, Autumn called Katrina. “Any chance you could work pretty much all day today and tomorrow? I feel bad asking since you took yesterday as well, but—”

  “Happy to,” Katrina said, and she sounded like she meant it.

  “Thank you so, so much. I’ll be around if it gets too busy, but I need you to take the lead.” Autumn hated piling on the hours if it wasn’t what Katrina wanted, but she had to get some of the stress off herself. Taking the day off yesterday to help Kian out had been a good escape at the time, but she was paying for it now. Her mind buckled with the strain.

  Deep breaths, she reminded herself as she drove into town. You can do this.

  Tree limbs knit above her, creating a canopy that filtered the cheery July sunshine, and she told her phone to start her favorite playlist. The first song that popped up was the same Thomas Rhett track Kian had blasted the evening before. Immediately, she was back in the zone, another surge of creativity pushing her forward.

  With a night to sleep on it, she wasn’t convinced the beautiful nature-inspired wax casting would work for this year’s Barefoot Ball, but she wasn’t convinced it wouldn’t either. All night, she’d been itching to take another look, but had foolishly left her sketches at the Looking Glass. Going off of memory and some ideas that had come overnight, she sang along with the music, sorting through the maybes and shrugging off the worries. She was this close. She could feel it.

  With a quick hello to Katrina and an offering of cranberry-orange muffins from her personal chef, Autumn rushed toward the worktable, excited to get going. She stopped short when she saw her sketchbook open, drying flowers artfully laid out around the drawing. Confused and surprised, Autumn paused. She thought she’d put everything away before
she left the night before, but she’d been so tired. She pinched the bridge of her nose, but the picture of how she’d left the workstation didn’t go any clearer.

  She dropped onto the stool and hooked her feet around the tall legs. The counter sketch had more potential than she’d given herself credit for. She picked up one of the flowers. Wilted, its lavender blooms were closed now, but immortalized in jewelry, it could be beautiful forever.

  She didn’t have much time, though, if she wanted to have a few waxes ready for Veronica in a week. But did she have the materials to get started? She flipped open her laptop, automatically checking her website first to see if any orders had come in, and then opened separate tabs to double-check the other sites for updates. Should she reorder the supplies? Even waiting for overnight shipping would set her back two days. Her stomach clenched. Chances were her father wouldn’t stock exactly what she needed, but he might have something she could use until her shipment arrived. She tucked the drying flower above her ear and jumped off the stool to root through boxes. When one set didn’t yield what she was looking for, she turned to the next.

  She moved aside her denim apron thrown haphazardly over a stack of boxes. Used to hanging it up when she was done with it, she mentally questioned why she would have tossed it aside. Perhaps Katrina had? She slipped the strap over her head and was tying the strings when she noticed the logo on the top box. Her father wouldn’t have ordered from that particular company.

  Could it be the missing delivery? She grabbed a craft knife off the worktable and opened the box. It contained everything she’d ordered from that company, and the two boxes underneath were her other missing packages. Had they arrived the day before when she’d been off mountain biking with Kian? She was relatively sure that the stack of boxes had not been there when she’d been working the night before, but then again, she’d been exhausted from the long ride.