The Brazen Billionaire

by Elana Johnson

  She couldn’t afford the plane ticket either. She didn’t answer Jasper, the reality of her life a bit too heavy to carry at the moment. He didn’t think about how much a flight cost or who would work for him. He had people to worry about those things, and they probably had people to take care of them.

  But not Sasha. She had to take care of herself. As she dressed and started texting her mom, she wondered if perhaps she and Jasper were simply too different to have and maintain a meaningful relationship. Maybe he should just be her boss and she should just keep collecting his money in exchange for keeping his huge house on the hill free of dust.

  Chapter Ten

  Jasper employed all of his will power to keep himself from hurrying over to the east bay and getting in line for a fruity, frozen drink. But he’d already come across as super-forward, and he didn’t need to be perceived as desperate too.

  Not only that, but the rain had decided to make a huge entrance that morning, and soon after Sasha went radio silent on their texts, the sky darkened and the bad weather rolled in.

  With nothing to look forward to except an uncomfortable call with his father later that evening, Jasper felt like a caged tiger. He paced from the French doors at the back of the house to the front lobby where he left Sasha’s cleaning list each day, Frankie right on his heels.

  Jacqueline wouldn’t be in today, and Jasper could literally spend all day cooped up in the house by himself. In fact, he had done that numerous times since buying the property and moving to Hawaii.

  For some reason, today, he couldn’t stand the thought. Sweet Breeze was busy on the weekends, and while Marshall usually wasn’t, Jasper didn’t feel like hanging out with the pineapple plantation owner and his girlfriend.

  He wanted to be where Sasha was, but he once again told himself he would not be going to The Straw in the pouring rain. Maybe she wouldn’t even open in this weather, and his thumbs twitched to get a text out and ask her.

  Jasper exercised some self-control and set his phone in the charger so he could shower. Then he went down to the beach, but not to The Straw. To Tyler’s. The man still hadn’t responded since he’d broken up with Tawny Loveless, the woman he’d started a fake relationship with only to fall for her for real.

  Tyler didn’t answer the door, but his dog barked. Frankie, who waited at Jasper’s side, whined, and he said, “Go on.”

  The dog tore around the house, and more barking—none of it Frankie’s came from the back yard, which went right up to the beach. Wet sand flew as the two dogs chased each other, and Jasper bent to pick up a ball before spotting Tyler lying in his hammock.

  He lifted a lazy hand in Jasper’s direction and let his head fall back toward the bay, one foot absently pushing the hammock every time he edged forward. The once-powerful poker player looked like a shell of himself, and Jasper’s heart tapped out a warning.

  If he continued things with Sasha, would he too end up with a broken heart and no reason to leave the house?

  You already have no reason to leave the house, he thought as he took a seat at the picnic table, which thankfully had a umbrella over it, and watched the dogs. He had nothing to say—he knew better than most that words didn’t always help—but he felt better just being in the presence of another human being.

  “You should get that dog into agility training,” Tyler finally said. He swung his legs over the side of the hammock and bent to pick up a Frisbee. He didn’t seem to notice or care that water dripped down his shoulders from the palm fronds above.

  “I sleep during the day,” Jasper said, his voice almost a monotone. The rhythm of the waves pounding the shore a hundred yards away was calming and peaceful.

  “What are you doing here?” Tyler ran his fingers along the edge of the Frisbee, probably waiting for one of the dogs to notice he’d picked it up. Frankie would go nuts—literally lose his mind—and Jasper once again thought he should hire someone to exercise his dog more often. Heck, Tyler would probably do it for free.

  “Nothing,” he said. “You have a hose, right? Because Frankie’s already a mess.” The curse of having a curly-haired dog was the clean-up if they got into anything at all.

  “I have an outdoor shower.” Tyler waved in the general direction of the house.

  “Right.”

  “You still didn’t say what you’re doing here.”

  “I didn’t—I—” It wasn’t that Jasper didn’t know. He simply didn’t want to say it out loud, at least not to Tyler.

  “Oh, wow. You too?”

  “Me too?”

  “I used to read people for a living,” he said. “You’re pining over a woman.”

  Jasper scoffed and tore his eyes from the undulating water. “Pining? I don’t think so.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Sasha Redding,” slipped out before Jasper could censor it and change it to “No one.”

  “She owns The Straw.”

  “Right. Thanks for ignoring me last night.” Jasper had literally texted everyone he knew for a favor the previous evening. That alone should tell him how much he already liked Sasha. And how much of a dangerous position he’d already put his heart in.

  “You’re welcome.” He stood and slapped the Frisbee against his palm, which somehow echoed loud enough to get the attention of both dogs. Frankie looked like a chocolate streak as he barreled toward them. He was much faster than Lazy Bones, and he skidded to a stop in front of Tyler, his giant tongue hanging out the side of his mouth.

  Tyler chuckled and bent to pat the dog. Clumps of sand went flying as Tyler scrubbed Frankie, and Jasper groaned again. That sand would be right up against Frankie’s skin, trapped beneath all the curls. It would likely be hours before he could get his dog clean and go home.

  Doesn’t matter, he told himself. He didn’t want to go home to his big, empty house anyway.

  So he stayed until both dogs got tired of chasing the Frisbee, until the rain stopped, until he offered to go get dinner and bring it back since he knew Tyler didn’t actually do a lot of cooking and liked to eat out every evening.

  By the time he did get home, Frankie had been washed and dried, and darkness had fallen. He wanted to text Sasha, but she still hadn’t answered his text that morning about who would run The Straw if she went to visit her parents.

  Foolishness raced through him. Of course she didn’t work twenty-four-seven. She surely had someone who could come in for her so she could take days off for family visits, relaxation, dates….

  Maybe just not dates with him. He growled at the idea and tried not to read too much into it. After all, she’d held his hand and they’d had some great conversation last night once they’d gotten past that speed bump about the unsolicited advice she didn’t want.

  Still, he felt rather foul when his phone rang and it showed his father’s face on the screen.

  “Hey, Dad.” He didn’t mean to sigh as he said it, but somehow he did.

  “Jasper.” The man might be seventy-two years old now, but he’d lost none of his power and charisma, even half a world away. “Everything okay?”

  “Absolutely fine, Dad. I told you that at least a dozen times this week.”

  “I know what’s going on with the taxes,” his dad said. “You still sound tired.”

  “I am tired.” Working in the middle of the night was tiring no matter how much sleep he got. It simply wasn’t natural, and he wondered how much longer he could stay in Hawaii. Only three years away from turning the big four-oh, and he was starting to think life in Belgium would be much easier.

  “All right. So I know what happened with the taxes,” his dad said. “Tell me why it happened.”

  Jasper smothered another sigh as he opened his laptop and navigated to his email. He’d already sent the why earlier this week, and he decided he was just going to read what he’d already typed.

  Then he could get back to thinking about Sasha.

  Work started early on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday so that by the time h
e finished, he was so tired he could barely get himself into bed before passing out. He didn’t see Sasha at all, but enjoyed their marathon texting sessions until suddenly she’d go silent.

  He’d gone back though everything he’d said to see if he was accidentally pushing a button he didn’t know about, the way he had with his suggestion to meet with Fisher. He couldn’t find anything that would upset her.

  He finally concluded that he was reading way too much into things. She was busy. Working seventeen hours a day, with only an hour or two off in the middle of the day—when he was asleep—to try to catch a nap.

  She had started a conversation he wanted to finish, but the time to bring it up didn’t present itself on Thursday or Friday.

  He read over her text again on Friday night when normal people slept. Already Saturday in Belgium and the rest of Europe, he had nothing to do but wasn’t tired.

  Do you think maybe we’re too different? she’d asked at some point that week. He’d been asleep when the text came in, and there were several more following it that had kind of buried that initial question.

  But it nagged at him. They did lead two very different lives, right down to when they slept. But he owned a business, and so did she. He liked dogs, and so did she. She’d told him more about her parents, what her childhood was like, and some of her favorite things.

  That had been one of his favorite text strings.

  A few of my favorite things, she’d messaged. Then she’d sent a clip of the song from The Sound of Music and followed it with items one at a time. His phone had chimed relentlessly for almost a full minute.

  Tacos

  Seafood

  Shrimp (obviously)

  Sunsets

  Hawaii

  Coffee with lots of cream

  Dogs

  The ocean

  The Straw

  The list went on and on. Jasper had started a list of his own, but it was much shorter—eating out, surfing in the dark, his dog, and Spam rolls. He felt inadequate in his list, but she hadn’t pushed him for more.

  The conversation had moved onto surfing, something she’d never really gotten into. He’d offered to teach her, and she’d gone silent.

  His phone had tormented him for six solid days, and he left it in the bedroom when he went downstairs to answer the doorbell. The pizza guy standing on the front step was easily as wide as Jasper and carried three boxes. “I’ve got a double pepperoni with olives, garlic bread, and cinnamon twists.”

  “Yep.” Jasper held out a bill and the two men exchanged goods. “Keep the change. Thanks for driving up here.”

  “Anytime, bro.” The huge Polynesian man grinned and turned to go down Jasper’s steps.

  Frankie sniffed the boxes and tried to jump up on Jasper as he walked into the kitchen. “Stop it,” he told the dog. “You’ll get some. When have I ever withheld pizza from you?”

  Frankie sat, and sure enough, Jasper plucked a couple of rounds of pepperoni off the pie and gave them to the goldendoodle.

  He managed to make it through a meal where he wasn’t staring at a screen. Ants seemed to be marching through his bloodstream, and he took his last cinnamon twist upstairs with him to fetch his phone.

  A green light blinked, which meant he had new texts. Sasha had finally picked up their communication again, this time with, We’ve slowed down and I can take off. Want to meet?

  The message was ten minutes old. He couldn’t type Yes fast enough.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sasha smelled like lemons and ginger, and it was not all that pleasant. It was already ten o’clock, and Jasper had just responded that he wanted to meet. She didn’t have time to go home and shower, so she scrubbed her hands in the sink at the back of the hut, hoping the industrial soap would be enough to rid her skin of the offending scent.

  It had been a long, hard week. The rain seemed to be an angry spouse, always storming back into the room to punctuate their point with a massive downfall. The roof in her hut had been leaking all week, but she hadn’t had time to fix it.

  Because when it was sunny, there were customers. And when it was raining, she didn’t want to get up on the roof and be a human lightning rod to find and fix the leak. She’d considered mentioning it to Jasper, who she suspected would send a team of people to have the leak fixed as soon as he knew about it.

  Which was exactly why she didn’t tell him.

  She’d put her trust in one devilishly handsome rich man before, and she wasn’t so sure she should do it again. But Jasper was so…nice. Newton would’ve shown up at The Straw the very first day he hadn’t seen her.

  At first, the extra attention was wonderful. Sasha felt like a princess, with the handsomest prince in the land trying to get her to pay attention to him.

  Jasper was quite the opposite. He didn’t come by The Straw, and he didn’t even ask to come by. He didn’t press her for another date. Didn’t badger her when he asked questions and she didn’t answer.

  His aloofness was so endearing but also made her a bit nervous. So she couldn’t wait to see him just so she’d know if he still liked her or not.

  “Of course he does,” she muttered to herself as she lifted her hands to her nose. She recoiled from the scent of gross pink soap, lemons, and ginger. That certainly hadn’t been improved, and she’d have to keep her hands tucked in her pockets the whole time she was with Jasper.

  “Knock, knock.”

  She spun at the masculine voice, surprised to see him already. How long had she been standing at the sink, daydreaming about him? She’d been caught doing it all week, actually, and Maddy had grilled her relentlessly until she’d spilled about the date last weekend, the hand-holding, the mini-fight about giving advice.

  But there Jasper stood, just beyond the counter, wearing a blue sweatshirt that had a big white C on the front of it. He smiled, and it lit up the entire beach.

  She returned it and said, “Give me ten minutes to close. You got here fast.”

  He shrugged as if to say, I like to drive fast, and said, “What can I do to help?”

  “Close that window. I’ll put the fruit away.” He lifted the awning and released the stick that held it up before letting it fall and latching it closed. His presence filled the whole shack when he came in the side door.

  She fumbled the container of raspberries as she slid them in the fridge. Sasha faced him, her heart doing a weird tango in her chest that was quite painful. Or maybe she liked it. She wasn’t sure.

  “It’s so good to see you,” he said, nerves and vulnerability on his face though he spoke in that silky smooth voice. He entered her personal space in the next breath and wrapped her inside the circle of his arms.

  She tried not to take a deep breath of his woodsy cologne, but she failed miserably.

  “You smell great,” he whispered, his hands tightening along her waist and keeping her right against him.

  She laughed and put her arms on his shoulders. Oh, my. What strong, sturdy, beautiful shoulders he had. “I was just trying to wash off all the gross smells.”

  He gazed down at her, a softness in his expression that answered all of Sasha’s questions about how he felt about her. “I like them.”

  She pushed against his chest, another giggle in her throat. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “I don’t care. Just not in here.” Because she thought she was going to kiss him, and she did not want to do that inside The Straw. She already had memories of her first kiss with Newt, almost in this exact spot, and she wanted something different with Jasper.

  Because Jasper was different. Totally, one-hundred-percent different than anyone she’d ever dated before. And she had no idea what to do about that. She’d been wrestling with the decision to keep dating him all week, and she never could bring herself to send a text that ended their budding relationship.

  He backed up, dropping his hands from her waist and capturing one of hers in
his before he went back outside to the beach.

  She paused and took a long, deep breath of the fresh ocean air. Her stand sat right on the beach—she had tables in the sand and everything—but somehow the walls kept all the freshness out.

  “I love the bay,” she said, squeezing his fingers.

  “I do too.” He gazed up at the sky, where the stars were already quite bright. With little light pollution in this bay, the night sky was magnificent. “I miss it when I have to leave.”

  She looked at him, finding some measure of homesickness in his face. But as she only had the light of the moon to see him, she couldn’t be sure what he was really feeling.

  “Do you travel a lot?” she asked.

  “A fair bit.” He focused on her. “I have to go to Switzerland to take care of some business.” A small smile accompanied the words, but he didn’t seem like the same man tonight.

  “You okay?” Feeling brazen herself, she reached up and ran her fingers down the side of his face. She might as well rent an airplane and write her feelings for him in the sky.

  “I’ve missed you, that’s all.” This time, his smile brightened the night, and he tugged on her hand to get her walking. “Maybe we can just stroll the beach for a while?”

  “Nothing I like better than strolling.” She smiled and stepped through the sand, her shoes sinking in. “I need to take these off.” She released his hand and removed her shoes, tossing them back toward The Straw, where they made clunking noises as they hit the wood. “I’ll get them before I go home.”

  She re-laced her fingers through his and they started down the beach. Closer to the water, the sand turned wet, making it much easier to walk. “So,” she said, another of her relentless thoughts surging forward in her mind. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

  “What did I say?” He spoke in a low voice, almost reverent, and the sound of it sent shivers along her shoulders.