The Neighbor's Secret (A Secret Billionaire Romance #1)

by Kimberley Montpetit

  While Allie ate a piece of cold, hard toast—goodness, she missed Ethan’s gourmet cooking—she made a quick call to her parents.

  “Sorry I missed the ten o’clock tour bus, Dad!” she told him.

  “Take the day off,” he said promptly. “We have Erin here, and she’s not too feisty on this sleepy Sunday.”

  “You’re awesome, Dad, thank you.”

  “I heard some news from a little bird, sweetheart.”

  Allie’s heart began to thump. “Oh? What was that?”

  “You know this town is too small to keep secrets, but if you want to keep it your business, I won’t pry, honey.”

  “Dad, you’re too good—and probably not nosey enough. Yes, Sean Carter showed up yesterday. Yes, I talked to him. No, he isn’t here at the house. And I’m not sure I’m seeing him again. We sort of argued.”

  She could picture her father nodding to himself, observant and intuitive, despite his quiet ways. “I can understand that. Your mother and I are with you on whatever you decide.”

  “Thanks, Dad. Honestly, I have no idea what I’m going to do.”

  “Now I need to get that last teenager of mine to start picking up trash before the next bus. You know how we like to keep our town pristine and quaint.”

  “It’s embedded into our DNA,” Allie said with a laugh.

  As soon as her father hung up, the mobile rang again.

  Allie let out a groan and almost ignored it, but quickly snatched it up when she saw that it was Marla.

  “Hey, girl, I’ve got some pictures to develop and mount, want to help me? I promised the client I’d have them done by Monday.”

  “Eek, Marla, that’s tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m calling you. It’s officially time to hang up the shingle Marla’s Magical Moments.”

  “So you’re sticking with the sappy business name?” Allie teased.

  “Hey, we live in a sappy town so it fits.” Marla paused. “Can I set up at your place? I have absolutely no room here at my folks and I think you rented the last place in town. Housing is hard to come by, you know.”

  “Sure,” Allie said slowly. The only place would be Ethan’s room and the adjoining room, known as the morning room a hundred years ago.

  Which meant he’d never return. He was gone. Allie rubbed at her neck, emotion pricking behind her eyes. Maybe she was just tired, but the idea of never seeing Ethan again wasn’t something that gave her any pleasure.

  “I’m probably being melodramatic,” she said out loud to herself. “He’s still working to stop the mayor and he’s renovating some property for the Historical Society. I’ll see him sometime around town.”

  But Allie had a feeling Ethan would stay under the radar. Besides, she wouldn’t live in Heartland Cove forever. She needed to go back to her job at the bank in a few weeks. Her boss was very generous and checked in with her once a week, but she didn’t plan on slinging fries for the rest of her life. She had her business degree, after all.

  “Time to move on, Allie Strickland,” she voiced aloud, sticking her plate, knife, and coffee cup into the mostly empty dishwasher. Deep in her gut, she knew she didn’t really want to return to Toronto. Only to retrieve her belongings out of storage.

  But that meant moving somewhere else and starting over. The thought of hunting for a job with its accompanying resumes and interviews was incredibly depressing.

  Sticking her hair into a ponytail she was ready for Marla when her friend arrived.

  “Okay, girl, spill it all,” were the first words out of Marla’s mouth. “I just about screamed when I saw Sean Carter having dinner at the lobster house last night. By himself.”

  “Um, hi,” Allie said, tugging Marla into the morning room. “Yeah, I guess a lot happened yesterday.”

  While Allie related the events of the day before, they spread out Marla’s photo developing gear, the lotions and trays, as well as hanging up black-out curtains while Allie told her about her brunch date with Ethan’s grandmother and then their fight. And then Sean showing up and the subsequent fight with him.

  “Whoa, girl, what a day!”

  “I tell you, I’m all fought out.”

  Marla finished tacking up the end of a black curtain over the yellowing Victorian lace ones and stared at Allie. “You mean you’re taking him back?”

  “Of course not. He needs to grovel first.”

  Marla arched an eyebrow really high. “You think Sean Carter is actually going to get on his knees and beg for you to come back to him?”

  “Wouldn’t you hold out for a really good apology? I mean, hell—that’s what he put me through.”

  “I know, sweetie, I know.” Marla put an arm around Allie. “I’ve never seen you so distraught. Anybody would be. He ruined your wedding day.”

  “No, it was more than just a wedding. He ruined my life. Tore my trust and belief in love and honesty to shreds.” Allie paused. “What would you have done?”

  “I wouldn’t have married Sean Carter in the first place.”

  “What!” Allie yelped. “You never told me that.”

  A guilty look came over Marla. “I knew you were in love with him. How could I tell you not to when you’d been together for so many years? But I worried that he’d make you happy.”

  Allie was aghast. “Did you suspect he’d actually stand me up on our wedding day?”

  Marla shook her head. “No, but I wasn’t shocked either. His career is super, super important to him.”

  “That’s the understatement of the year. He tried to stay here last night. He called me over and over again after I kicked him out. The worst part? He never apologized or explained.” Allie chewed on her lip. “Now I wonder if I ever gave him a chance. I was so mad . . .” her voice trailed off.

  Marla let out a snort. “A rip-roaring apology should have been the first words out of his mouth!”

  “He did say he missed me.”

  “Do not defend him. He only missed your body.”

  Allie slumped at the table, tracing her fingers along the carved and painted wooden sign. Marla’s brother had done a superb job. It was creative and professional.

  “I need to pound some nails,” she finally said. “Let’s go put this up. We’ll hang it from the mailbox out at the road. I think there are a few tools in the garage.”

  A few minutes later, armed with a box of nails and an old hammer, they headed down the driveway. Marla had come equipped with her own posts and rings. They took turns pounding the posts into the dirt and then hung the sign on the rings so that it swung in the light breeze.

  “It looks fantastic,” Allie said, admiring their work.

  Marla clapped her hands. “Perfect. Now I’ll get those business cards ordered. Shall we get some lunch before we dive into developing fluid?”

  “I have lunch stuff here. I really don’t want to leave the house today. I’m afraid of running into Sean or Ethan.”

  Marla gave her a devious smile. “So what else did you do with Ethan Smith yesterday before you met dear old granny?”

  “What gave you the impression we did anything else?” Allie turned away to dig into the refrigerator for the deli meat and cheese. She was afraid that her thoughts were strewn across her face.

  “You don’t go visit someone’s grandmother without it meaning something.”

  “She’s lonely,” Allie said vaguely. “I agreed to go along to meet her. She’s really something though. Smart as a whip and lovely. I think Ethan wanted to prove that his photography was completely above board. His grandmother is the president of the Heartland Cove County Historical Society. He’s doing some work for her.” Not exactly true, but close enough.

  “Did you go anywhere else? To his excavation site?”

  Allie opened the cupboards to search for a bag of Covered Bridge Potato Chips. She knew Ethan had purchased some the previous week, and she had a craving for the best potato chips in the world.

  “I always know when you’re hiding som
ething.”

  Allie widened her eyes, but it didn’t work.

  “Okay, keep it coming, girl,” Marla demanded.

  “We had some time to kill and stopped at Hopewell Rocks for a short walk. Gosh, it’s been years since I went there. It’s too cold when I visit in the winter for the holiday break.”

  “The beach is always a romantic setting.” Marla’s eyes were all-knowing, and she was grinning. “Was the tide in or out?”

  “Out.” One word answers were probably best.

  “Did he hold your hand while you walked?”

  “No.” Allie glanced away as she replayed in her mind how gentlemanly Ethan took her hand and slipped it through his arm to make sure she didn’t slip down the algae-covered slick rocks or accidentally step into an unseen tide pool. “Not exactly,” she added, as though she couldn’t stop herself from saying the words—and immediately kicked herself. Why couldn’t she keep her mouth shut?

  “I knew it!” Marla said triumphantly. “I suspected there was some sort of spark going on. You would never have let another man live downstairs.”

  “I had no choice! The rental agreement—the misunderstanding.”

  “You know, my grandmother used to say, ‘poppycock’. Women always have choices. Okay, go on.”

  “Marla, stop it. It was a lovely morning, actually. Maybe that’s why I was doubly shocked at Sean showing up out of nowhere. I hadn’t thought about him all that day.”

  “You’re turning this back around to Sean. Tell me about Ethan.”

  Allie grew exasperated. “He made sure I didn’t slip as we walked. Are you satisfied?”

  “A male buddy doesn’t usually do that. They race you to the bottom of the stairs, or give you a headlock, or some other manly act. Not grand gestures. No manners.”

  “Ethan is very well-mannered.” A small smile crept across her lips, which she immediately cursed when Marla pounced again.

  “Just tell me one thing, Miss Secretive. Is he a good kisser?”

  “Marla!”

  Allie jammed the last piece of ham onto the sandwiches, slapped mustard onto the bread slices, crammed them together and handed one to her friend on a paper plate. No china for her.

  “Eat your lunch,” she said, searching for a bottle of red wine even though it was barely noon.

  “I love the look of guilt on your face,” Marla said. “Ethan Smith must be a most excellent kisser.”

  Allie plopped into her chair and wanted to cry. She’d driven Ethan away, but she was so darn confused. By him, by Sean.

  Maybe she needed to run away again, only this time to New York City and lose herself in the crowds. Forget about Sean once and for all. Forget Ethan and his childhood crush and his sweet grandmother and his chef skills and his smile and his tender ways. And those lips.

  “Yes, Marla,” she said, staring down at her uneaten sandwich. “Ethan Smith kissed me. Kissed me like nobody else ever has.”

  And that was before she learned that he was an obnoxiously wealthy man.

  She didn’t tell Marla about Ethan’s inheritance and old money as one of Heartland Cove’s founders. That bit of gossip wasn’t hers to broadcast. Perhaps Miss Ellie would change her will and give it to charity, or some other long-lost cousin.

  The money didn’t make a bit of difference. Even if there wasn’t a fat 401K, Allie had to keep reminding herself that he was on track to inherit half of Heartland Cove. It might not be liquidated money, but it was there, and it belonged to Miles Benjamin Ethan AKA Ethan Smith.

  Marla gaze was unflinching. “I haven’t seen you two together on your own, only that day walking down the road, but now that I think about it, you have been smiling a lot lately—except when you’re cussing out the ex-fiancé.”

  Allie gulped. “Problem is, I may never see Ethan again. I threw him out, too.”

  “Oh, Allie,” Marla said with a soft laugh. “You’re impossible when you’re in love.”

  Chapter 17

  “Bite your tongue,” Allie retorted.

  She drained her glass of red wine, snapped open a Diet Coke to get a shot of caffeine, and then threw away the paper plates and cups into the trash from lunch.

  She missed Ethan, but to say she was in love with him was preposterous. She’d only known him a month. His kisses were an impetuous move, inspired by a romantic beach. It meant nothing.

  “So tell me more about this mysterious Ethan Smith,” Marla said. “There have never been any Smith’s in Heartland Cove.”

  “You’re right,” Allie said with an elusive air.

  “I hear he’s a local.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,’ Marla said airily and just as vaguely. “The bartender at the Sal’s place.”

  Allie narrowed her eyes. “What’s Ethan’s reputation?”

  “No, you tell me, my nebulous, hazy, imprecise friend.”

  “You don’t have to call names,” Allie said, laughing. “I give up. His grandmother is Elizabeth Stewart. Go look up their genealogy.”

  “Such a smarty-pants, Allie Strickland. Just watch me. I will. I’d head to the library right now if we didn’t have photo mounting to do this afternoon.”

  The photos were dry by early afternoon, the negatives hanging like black pieces of laundry on the line in the blacked-out bedroom.

  Being in the guest room that Ethan had slept in brought thoughts of him to the surface. What did he think of her after the fight with Sean? Did he think she’d been lying to him? Had she ruined her life on every possible level?

  She and Ethan had both fibbed about their identities and past lives before they were so rudely thrown together by a scatter-brained Violet Stark.

  The photo chemicals soon stunk up the entire house with its peculiar sharp odor. Allie shut the doors to the rooms upstairs as well as the kitchen and morning room, opening windows.

  The two of them spent the afternoon bumping into each other in the darkroom, Allie taking orders from Marla.

  “Marla’s Magic Moments has some seriously good cameras—and a good eye,” she said with a grin. “These are gorgeous.”

  A few of the photos were experimental, taken around town, including pictures of the tourists in line at the vendors along the Saint John’s. “These candid shots are really good. Humanity at its most humorous and poignant.”

  “I was trying out various lens and settings. To see what my new camera could do.”

  “Was the camera expensive?”

  Marla snorted. “It will take ten weddings to pay it off.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Only by half, but it’s a camera I’ll have for years and I’m already seeing improvement in myself. I’m so excited about the wedding I’ve got booked for next Saturday. Will you come help me carry equipment and fluff the bride’s wedding train?”

  “I can fluff wedding dresses with the best of them.” But Allie’s smile was tight. It would be the first wedding since her own canceled one. “Seeing the happy bride and groom may cause me to fall over keening with howls though. Just warning you.”

  “I’m sorry, Allie. I wasn’t thinking. Of course you don’t have to come. What an idiot I am.”

  “Hey, I’m going with you. If we’re going to run Marla’s Magical Moments together I’d better get back on the horse, right?”

  “You mean you’re getting married again?”

  Allie burst out laughing. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Free champagne is always fun, but we have to stay sober until the end.”

  “So the job has perks besides working with my best friend?”

  Marla gave her a quick hug. “Next up is discussing our long-term goals.”

  Allie’s business degree kicked in. “Marketing, Advertising, Publicity, Costs, Prices, Supplies.”

  “Whew, slow down!”

  “You take the pictures and I’ll worry about the rest.”

  “Weddings every weekend if I can book them, so get ready to throw yo
ur social life out the window.”

  “I don’t have a social life now,” Allie said, making a face.

  Marla packed up her camera, checked the bag for lenses and paraphernalia, and the two of them headed down to the bridge.

  “I’m going to check out good spots for snagging unwary tourists,” Marla said, rubbing her hands together in glee while Allie parked the car behind the family fry truck.

  Not two minutes later, Mrs. Strickland came running out the back door. “You must have read my mind, Allie. Erin took off in the pick-up to buy more potatoes out at the farm

  Name of Farm? The busses have been packed and another will be here in fifteen minutes. I know it’s your day off, but can you—”

  “Hey, I’m perfectly fine to take pictures while you help out, Allie,” Marla told her. “Someone watching will just make me nervous.”

  “A lame excuse. You don’t know what the word nervous means.”

  With a wink and a wave, Marla went off to find tourists to offer them the seasonal Marla’s Magical Moments discount.

  After putting on a clean apron, Allie went into gear, peeling and slicing and frying and seasoning.

  When Erin showed up, her mother ran to the rear of the long, narrow truck to help unload the potatoes so Allie manned the front window to ring up sales while her father kept cooking.

  The line was longer than normal at the height of summer.

  When she looked up after the tenth customer, Sean Carter reached out a hand and stopped her pencil moving across the sales pad.

  “Allie,” he said.

  Her heart went into a stutter. “Sean! What are you doing here?”

  “You won’t answer my phone calls or texts.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that I had some really good reasons?” Allie snapped, and then cringed, aware of the tourists in line overhearing. “This is your second day in Heartland and you have yet to apologize for not showing up at our wedding. You want to pick up as if nothing happened. I call that being a jerk, Sean. Honestly.”

  The woman behind him in line stared at Allie and then nodded, glancing up at her husband and giving him an elbow in the side.

  “Honestly, you need to give me a chance—”