The Lost Groom: Bachelor Billionaire Romance (A Park City Firefighter Companion)

by Taylor Hart

  Rolling her eyes and trying not to smile, she picked her phone up off her bedside table, saw over twenty texts. “Okay, lesson number four: you can’t call a girl or text a girl so much. This makes you seem really desperate.”

  He sat in the chair next to her bed. “Or pushy, as Nick would say,” he mumbled.

  “What?”

  “Nick says I’m pushy.”

  She evaluated him. Her previous anger that he’d shown up like this began to slip away. “You are. I think anyone would say that.”

  “I … I know.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “It’s this compulsion in me.”

  She nodded, already knowing this about him. “It got worse when your mom died,” she said softly.

  Looking shocked, he frowned.

  “I mean, you’ve always had this ‘obsession with perfection’ thing, but it got worse. Remember the hand-washing phase? You got more compulsive.”

  It made him smile that she remembered the hand-washing phase. “Yeah, it was bad. I remember my hands hurt so bad, but I couldn’t quit.”

  She shook her head and smiled. “I thought the lavender cream I made would help, but I didn’t know you would have that kind of reaction.”

  He grunted. “At least you brought me cookies when I got home from the hospital all benadrylled up.”

  The memory of how she’d brought him cookies when he’d come home from the hospital made her smile.

  “Those were good cookies.”

  Part of her hated the past they shared. “I felt awful.”

  “Hmmph. Well, maybe I’m not compulsive. My brothers think I’m a narcissist.”

  She frowned, cataloguing what she knew about narcissists. “I wouldn’t say that.”

  He looked hopeful. “You wouldn’t?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe egomaniac, but not narcissist.” She held her therapist expression.

  He studied her.

  She broke into a smile.

  He raised an accusatory finger. “I’m going to have to go to a therapist so I can decipher which condition is worse.” When she snorted, he asked, “What? What is so funny?”

  She sighed and closed her eyes for a second. “I just never thought Luke Freestone, bachelor of the year in SL magazine for—what, the last five years?—would be so vulnerable.”

  17

  It was stupid, but it made Luke happy that she knew he’d been bachelor of the year.

  She scoffed at him. “See, and you like that I know that. It’s pathetic, sad really.”

  Dumbfounded, he threw up his hands. “Why is it sad that I’m happy you noticed, you’re my friend, right?”

  She held his eyes for a second, then waved a hand into the air. “Right.” She blushed. “Maybe you are a narcissist.” She laughed.

  He hated and loved he could do that to her. Women usually never rattled him like she did. He shook his head. He had to keep his focus.

  “Weirdo look alert.” She gave him an accusatory face.

  “Whatever.”

  “Whatever,” she mimicked, sounding like a kid.

  There was a part of him that wanted to ask about her past with Sean since she’d mentioned it, but he didn’t know if he should.

  She stared at her phone. “Maybe we should look at potential matches since you’re here bugging me anyway.”

  The teasing lilt to her tone made him smile. “Or we could just keep talking.”

  Glancing up, she held his gaze. “We might as well look at potentials.”

  Suddenly, this game felt a lot more serious to him. He didn’t want to look at ‘potentials’ but he knew this was the only way to hang out with her.

  Stick to the plan. Get close to her. Focus. If he had any hope of being with her, he needed her to open up about the past. But how to get around a direct approach? “We could get to know each other in the … now.” He sniffed and tried to act casual. “It might help you know what I like.”

  Not looking pleased, she put her phone onto her lap and sat back. “Okay, it’s good to get to know you as my client. Tell me about Luke Freestone in the now.” Saying it in a spooky, faux-mystical way, she spread her hands like it was a huge headline.

  He didn’t know where to start. “No, I was meaning you.”

  She crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow. “You’re the client.”

  “But I have to feel confident with you.”

  “Then fire me.” She called his bluff.

  Man, she was infuriating. Whenever he thought he could “lawyer” her, she seemed to outthink him. He let out a breath. “Fine. Man, I guess you should have gone to law school.”

  She nodded. “I thought about it later.”

  “You did?” He held to the piece of information like it was a nugget of gold. “When?”

  She shook her head. “Nope. You talk, Luke. Tell me about you.”

  “Fine.” He sighed. “I’m doing my deal, but you know that. Damon just married. Nick was shot.”

  “Nope.”

  “What do you mean, nope? I’m telling you about my life.”

  She pinched her lips. “I don’t want a travelogue. I want feelings. Do you have any, or are you a stone-cold killer?” she asked dramatically.

  “Hah.” He wasn’t sure if she was quoting a movie, but he didn’t want to ask. “Fine, I’m happy I’m going to be a billionaire. In fact, the day I saw you at the marina, I was celebrating. I like to go to the boat to celebrate.” He put up his hand. “Wait. Is that too travelogue-y, telling you where I go?”

  Tsking, she frowned. “Continue.”

  Man, he felt like he was in front of a judge. Words tumbled out, words he’d never told anyone else. “I talk to my mom.” He glanced at her.

  Her face showed no emotion.

  “I started a couple of years ago. I think, well, when Dad died, I just …” He shrugged, thinking about being left in charge of everything. “Damon and I got in a huge fight the day of the funeral because he wouldn’t stay.” He waved a hand in the air. “Blah blah blah, major family drama … then he came home last year. It’s been good, but I needed someone to talk about stuff with, ya know? The problems of the business. Nick. Damon.” He was still tentative, and he hesitated.

  She nodded. “Good. Keep going.”

  He swallowed. “I had a couple of relationships, but no one’s ever stuck. I guess I always had this goal of getting to a billion. I know that sounds shallow and stupid …” He trailed off.

  “It’s not stupid, it was your dream.”

  He didn’t understand why he felt so nervous. “Well, so it’s just something I do. Talk to Mom. Damon thinks he has a saint that guides him. Maybe she’s kind of like Damon’s saint. She’s … I think she watches over me. I mean, Nick accuses me of not believing or having enough faith, but I have faith in her. If there’s someone watching over me, it’s her.” He felt tears burning in the back of his eyes. “I miss her. I miss Dad, too. More than I thought he would.” He grasped the sides of the chair. “He was such a driven jerk. But I miss him.” He sighed, and it all kind of came together. “Man, maybe I’m my father. Dang, Savannah.” He laughed a little, and wiped at the moisture beneath his eyes. “I guess I should be in therapy.”

  Sizing him up, she allowed her expression to soften. “You’re not your father.”

  He couldn’t believe he’d actually gotten caught up in all of this. He was supposed to be getting closer to her, but he was acting like a blubbering idiot. “I should go.” He turned for the window, feeling the same urgent need to leave as he’d felt to come in the first place. “Okay. Well.”

  “Wait. Don’t go.”

  Turning back, he couldn’t believe she wanted him to stay.

  She gave him a soft smile. “Don’t we still need to look at profiles? I mean—” She pointed to the clock on her bedside table that said eleven o’clock. “It’s not even midnight yet. You haven’t worked me all day yet. You’re slipping.”

  Warmth filled him. She didn’t want him to leave. H
is plan was working out perfectly.

  18

  Putting his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a check. “Oh yeah, I wanted to get you paid.”

  Her heart began to beat fast. She doubted this. All of it. Setting him up. Helping him find a wife. Especially after seeing how … yes, vulnerable he was. Something didn’t feel right. She shook her head. “I … Luke, I don’t think I can do this.” The words came out strained.

  “Yes,” he said, moving closer to her and still holding the check out. “I am a client. This is an agreement. Remember, I’m an attorney now. We have a contract.”

  “Actually, I’ve never signed anything.”

  “Verbal contracts hold up in court. Sorry to tell you, missy.”

  “Right.” She rolled her eyes. How had she gotten herself into this?

  He gently took her hand. She tried to tug it back, but he wouldn’t let go. “Just … I need this. I really need this. Please, help me have something meaningful in my life. I need it.”

  His sincerity spoke to her, but she still doubted it. “Do you really mean it?”

  “Yes.”

  She quit trying to take her hand back. The hard part was that she felt herself getting a bit confused at times. She’d thought she could help him find a wife, then it would be done. But now … everything was getting muddled.

  Tugging her hand back, she sized him up. “Let me ask you a question, if I had a date set up for you … but you had a chance to finish the deal you’ve been working on, what would you pick, the date or the deal?”

  He scoffed. “It’s a billion dollar deal.”

  “Exactly.” She scolded him.

  “Exactly what?” His face scrunched up. “It’s just a date.”

  She threw her hands up. “It’s just money.” She countered.

  He shook his head. “No. I believe I could win this bet ten times out of ten. If someone had a chance to go on a date or do a billion dollar deal, they would pick the deal.”

  “Not everyone.”

  “Yeah, pretty sure everyone.”

  “Not my father.” This, she was certain of.

  Luke hesitated.

  “He wouldn’t.” Her father was one hundred percent devoted to her mother. She grinned. “Unless my mom wanted him to.”

  Luke laughed. “Right. Why wouldn’t the woman want him to? It’s a billion dollars.”

  Shaking her head, she let out a sigh. “This is your problem, everything’s about the next deal.”

  “No, not true.”

  “True.”

  Hesitating, he shrugged. “I could have finished the deal the day Nick was shot … but I didn’t.”

  Part of her was surprised by this, but the bigger part of her wasn’t surprised at all. Luke was loyal. He always had been. It’d been something she’d always admired about him. “That’s cool.” She said softly.

  Then she looked at the check. “I can’t take this.”

  He dropped it on her lap. “It’s yours. It’s in the contract.” When she didn’t pick it up, he said, “I know I push hard. I told you I’d pay you triple. That way, I don’t have to feel bad when I make you go running at six-thirty in the morning.” He set his jaw in that way she’d seen many times before. A way that told her he wouldn’t budge on it.

  “And then keep me up until midnight,” she added, putting the check on her bedside table, still unsure but knowing more than ever that she did want to help Luke. He was a good guy. Why hadn’t he ever found love?

  “Exactly.”

  “Remember, the fee for the sprained ankle is going to be much higher. Pain and suffering, you know.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Whatever, play the blame game.”

  She laughed. “Hand me the laptop. I’ll show you what I found for you.”

  He got it for her and she flipped it open.

  Gesturing to the bed, she said. “Sit.”

  Moving around the bed, he ceremoniously took his shoes off.

  “Your feet better not stink, Freestone.”

  Letting out a sigh, he scooted closer to her. “I have good smell powder these days.”

  She grinned, thinking of how much she did know him. Through major stink feet.

  “Can I have some M&M’s?” He gestured to the bed.

  She passed them over. It was strange how normal this felt. “You’re going to owe me a pack.”

  Popping one into his mouth, he grinned. “These were always your favorite. I’ll bring a box by.”

  She grinned, thinking of him holding them as he climbed the tree.

  “What?” He bumped her shoulder.

  She let out a light laugh as she scrolled to some of the prettiest girls her software had put together. “I’m just picturing you shimmying up the tree with a box of M&M’s.”

  “I could do it.” He flexed. “I still got guns.”

  Rolling her eyes, she smiled. “And humility.”

  “Yes, add that to my profile.” He popped in another M&M.

  She got to the first picture and pulled it up: a beautiful blond, blue-eyed girl.

  “Ew.” He jerked his head back like he was looking at a picture of the Elephant Man.

  “What?” she asked, exasperated.

  “No, no, no. I don’t want some pretty face type.”

  Incredulous, she scrolled down. “What do you mean?”

  “I want someone I can talk to, not someone that just looks pretty. I’ve dated too many of those.”

  This information kind of bugged her, and when she thought about how many he might have dated, she was bugged even more. “Okay.”

  “Is that a problem, Savannah?”

  “Why would that be a problem?” she asked innocently, turning back to the girl and hating how all she could think of were how many girls he had dated. “The girl has an MBA in business, which she paid for herself, and works full time at a prestigious hotel downtown Salt Lake.”

  “Does she speak Russian?”

  “What?” This was ridiculous.

  “I’ve always wanted a woman who speaks Russian.” He pointed at her. “Not Russian, just speaks Russian.”

  “Wha-at?” She shook her head. “Do you speak Russian?”

  “No. That’s why it would be helpful, when I do business in Russia, to have someone who knows what they’re saying.”

  She let out an exasperated laugh. “O-kay.”

  “Next.” He put another M&M in his mouth.

  “Wait, what else?” She might as well know his preferences.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Well, let’s see. Physical requirements: five foot five is the shortest I would go.”

  She rolled her eyes. She was five feet five inches.

  “Red hair.”

  Ignoring the way her stomach flip flopped, she let out a breath. She tried not to get unprofessional. “O-kay.”

  His grin widened, like he was playing a game. “Umm, but definitely not lippy.” He pointed at her. “Not like you.”

  A surge of anger and playfulness pulsed through her. “Shut up, Freestone.”

  He sighed. “A couple of languages would be nice. If she were to like running, hiking, travelling. Hmm, be able to devote every waking second to me whenever I wanted.”

  She cleared her throat and glared at him. “Okay, I take it back, you are a narcissist.”

  He laughed and then shrugged.

  “You’re being vague.”

  “I thought I was getting pretty specific.”

  She shook her head. “You’re saying ‘I want this, this, this,’ but you’re not saying anything. Not really, and you know it.”

  “Show me another.” He gestured to the screen and popped another M&M into his mouth.

  “Fine.” She pulled up another profile. “You need to remember I’ve had my software put these profiles through a battery of matches to the things I put down that I thought described you, your education, your tastes. But I guess I might have to re-work some things. Since you need 'speak Russian'.”

  He cocked hi
s head to the side. “It’s a preference. So is past Olympic gymnast, but I could accommodate. But they’re like eight out of ten kind of preferences.”

  He was being ludicrous. What she couldn’t tell was if this was serious. He was acting serious.

  “Whatever, fine. Look at this one.” The girl was Japanese, shorter and gorgeous.

  He didn’t comment, just turned his head to the side, looking for something.

  “What?” She tilted her head, ignoring that when his head was to the side, he was closer to her and she got a whiff of the fresh rain scent.

  Pointing to the computer screen, he shook his head. “Yep, just what I thought.” He put his finger on the woman’s collar, noting a tiny mark right above it. “She’s part of the Japanese mafia sent here to infiltrate our country. I watched a whole documentary on it last month.”

  She sputtered out a laugh, then pushed her face closer to the screen, trying to see something other than a slight mark, a swirl that looked like a half yin/yang. “It’s just the screen.” Reaching up, she tried to rub the mark off.

  He let out a breath. “Trying to set me up with the mafia. Really, Savannah?”

  She let out a laugh and turned to him incredulously. “You’re insane. Plus, the yin/yang is Chinese, right?”

  “No!” he insisted, keeping his voice down but being vigorous about it. “Ask Nick. He watched it with me.” Yanking his phone out of his pocket, he scrolled to his favorites.

  She shoved him.

  He laughed. “I’m serious, I’ll call him right now.”

  She’d moved on to the next profile. “Like I’m going to call Nick. He’d take your side because that’s what you guys do.”

  Reaching forward, he picked up the M&M’s.

  She put her hand on top of his. “No more.”

  “You can’t share your M&M’s with your forty-grand client?”

  “That wasn’t part of the contract,” she said flippantly.

  Scrunching his face, he looked skeptical. “We don’t have a contract.”

  She tried to maneuver her hand to get a better grip on the M&M’s. “A verbal contract holds up in court,” she pointed out.

  He nodded his assent. “True.”