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

by Kimberley Montpetit

  “That’s a good sign, I think.” Ethan gave her a tender smile. He wasn’t jealous at all. He was confident in himself, and in her.

  Allie gazed through the windshield. Not a single car had passed since they pulled over. It felt as though they were the only two people in the world. “I keep having these epiphanies about Sean and about myself. Thank you for understanding, for not pressuring me.”

  Ethan looked thoughtful. “You know, when I was a kid, I used to visit my grandmother during Christmas break. I’d see you playing in the snow with the other kids on the sledding hill near her house.”

  Allie turned to him. “Wait a minute. Did your grandmother Ellie used to live in the biggest Victorian in town, right at the edge of the river? It’s all coming to me now.”

  “Yep, that was her. We had this fancy catered Christmas dinner while all I wanted to do was play with my new train set. Or ride my new bike. Or whatever it was. When I was a senior in high school I used to daydream about walking along the bridge holding your hand.”

  “No. Way!”

  He laughed at himself and a blush crept up his neck. “It’s true. I’d have this crazy movie running in my head of holding your hand while we strolled inside the bridge at midnight when nobody was around. I wanted to kiss you, but midnight was a good time because then you wouldn’t be able to see my red, embarrassed face.”

  “Aw, Ethan.” Allie brushed her fingers over his chin.

  Ethan gave a small shudder of pleasure and picked up her hand, kissing the middle of her palm. “Yes, I was a complete geek. It was the best daydream I ever had.” He turned his full brown eyes on her. “But you know what?”

  “What?” Allie asked, her voice soft.

  “Kissing you for real is even better than my Level Ten best daydream.”

  Chapter 22

  “I’ll drive you back to the house,” Allie told him.

  “Oh, man, you’re going to make me go back to work?”

  “Even heirs to mind-boggling fortunes must pretend to work.”

  “Hey! I haven’t inherited anything yet, my girl. I have to work to pay for my groceries. But after unexpectedly seeing you, I’m not sure I can focus on working any more today. I just want to get a picnic basket and lay my head in your lap.”

  “I suppose I’ll feed you grapes?” Allie said, amused.

  Ethan laughed. “Something like that. Pretty sexist, eh?”

  Allie felt an odd jump in her stomach, and stood up straighter. “Or sexy.”

  Ethan smacked his head back against the car headrest. “Good grief, woman, you’d better stop that kind of talk right now.”

  “Sorry.” Allie tried to look contrite, but not too much. He was easy to tease. “But I do think you need your shirt on to head back into town.”

  “True.” He started up the car again and pulled back onto the drive toward the construction site. “Looks like the moose is gone.”

  Allie peered through the windshield. “Are you sure?”

  “If he was still in there I’d probably see a smashed wall on the ground. He was probably curious and exploring and then headed back to his mate in the woods.”

  “I hope so.” Allie shivered, feeling the air conditioning on her bare arms. “I saw your sign when I pulled in. Next summer to open is ambitious. Do you think you’ll be ready? An official, public Heartland Cove Historical Society center is a huge undertaking.”

  Ethan nodded, about to slide out of the car to come around and open her door. “Stay right where you are.”

  Allie began to protest. “I can open my own door.”

  “I know you’re fully capable, but it’s a small gesture to show you how much I respect you.” He laughed at himself, sitting back down in the driver’s seat. “Wow, that sounded stiff and pompous. It just shows how much I want to do for you. A way to demonstrate the love I’m feeling.”

  Allie gulped. How could he speak of love? “Surely you’re joking? Being deferential.”

  She glanced away because she was staring at his 6-pack abs way too much.

  Ethan spoke quietly, staring out the windshield. “My parents met and were married within two months. You and I are already coming up on that.”

  “Two months,” Allie echoed, astonished at how fast time was going. “Your parents are crazy!” she added with a burst of laughter.

  “Maybe, but they’ve been married for almost forty years. And,” he paused, glancing up at her. “I think we’re getting to know each other pretty well.”

  Allie went silent, staring at him. She loved gazing at him, actually. She loved his smile, his manners, his honesty, his refreshing candor.

  Sean was always working some sort of deal, barreling through life, talking too much through a nice dinner out, restless during intermission at a play or show, and then rushing back to work before she had a chance to really talk to him. Or even a chance to breathe.

  “I know it’s fast, and I’ll stop talking about it. I’m sure it makes you uncomfortable.”

  “Not exactly,” Allie said, but she didn’t know how to explain what she was feeling, except that her heart raced whenever he was near and her mind was overwhelmed with the thought of Ethan Smith.

  He reached for her hand, interlocking their fingers. “It’s okay. We’ll take it one step at a time. And if you want me to bugger off, just tell me, but if those kisses in the car are any indication . . .” his voice trailed off meaningfully.

  “Am I so easy to read?”

  “Not really, but you were—are—hot.”

  “It’s the humidity. The sun. The moose.”

  Ethan’s grin was slow—he didn’t believe her excuses for a minute.

  “It’s—it’s—I can’t explain it. Too much has happened.”

  “You’re recovering. From the fire, and, dare I mention him who shouldn’t be named—Sean Carter?”

  A laugh bubbled up her throat. “I thought a lot about him while changing bandages. Changing DVD’s. I thought a lot about how he took advantage of our relationship. He made assumptions. And he turned out to be a Class A jerk. He left me to die in my own parent’s shop. Okay, I’m probably exaggerating, but not by much.”

  Ethan’s jaw clenched. He got out of the car, slammed the door, and then sprinted around to help her out.

  Stepping close, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. For a moment they stood there, together, without speaking. “He would never have been there for you and your marriage,” Ethan stated in a low voice.

  “Here’s the funny part,” she admitted. “Yesterday I realized that I was relieved Sean was gone. It was so freeing to know that I never have to deal with him, or speak to him, or put up with his BS ever again.”

  Allie put her chin into his neck, squeezing her eyes against the sudden emotion. “I am so glad to hear you say that,” he whispered.

  After a moment they broke apart, but Ethan’s grip remained tight on her hand. “You want to come inside and see the artist’s renderings of the new historical society? I’m bidding out some of the work, of course, and I’ve got a couple of buddies who do construction in Montreal who are coming out in a month before winter hits. I even promised to pay them.”

  Allie bumped his shoulder. “That’s generous.”

  “My grandmother is putting up the front money so that helps.”

  “Which means you, too, actually.”

  Ethan shrugged. “I guess so. I want to have her long time dream realized before she—before she’s gone.”

  Allie pressed his fingers, knowing that the thought of Miss Ellie’s passing was not something he wanted to think about, despite her age.

  “So come inside and let me walk you through the place.”

  “I’d love to, but it’s pretty lonely and deserted out here. . .” Allie’s voice trailed away.

  “Are you afraid to be alone with me?

  “No!” Allie said, and then laughed. The protest had come out much stronger than she intended. “I actually wasn’t expecting to see you out here a
t all.”

  “Aha! You were spying on me, then. The truth comes out.”

  Allie turned away to hide her blush. “I’m a citizen of Heartland,” she said primly. “And I wanted to know what the new Historical Society location looked like.”

  “So you’re suddenly interested in the back-story of this speck on the map?”

  “I’ve spent the last seven years far away. It’s true I couldn’t wait to get out of Heartland. Living in TO was exciting and fun—horrible grad school notwithstanding—but I have to admit it’s nice to be home. The frantic pace was getting to me.”

  “Maybe it was the company you were keeping.”

  “Touché. And just for the record, you’re terrible.”

  “So let it be written.”

  Ethan’s mobile rang. He glanced at the number and then said, “Excuse me.”

  Turning away, he walked off several paces and then answered. First, he listened and then responded in brief words, mostly yes and no.

  Allie had the feeling Ethan was trying not to reveal the conversation. Why was he keeping secrets again?

  “Glad to hear it,” Ethan said. “Better than expected. Okay, talk to you later.”

  He hung up and lifted his head. The sun was bronzing his fine chest and Allie bit her lips to keep from rushing him.

  “So?” she asked when he pocketed the cell phone into the front of his jeans.

  At first Ethan tried to act as though he didn’t understand her question. “Oh, that? The phone call? Just the lumber yard about my—a—project order. No big deal. Come on.”

  Allie stared at the tall stacks of lumber and 2x6’s and trusses to repair the roof’s sagging middle. Sitting in neat piles on both sides of the construction site. He wasn’t telling her the truth. Or he was leaving out a vital piece of the truth. It reminded her of those first few days when she learned he was using an alias. When she suspected he was in cahoots with the mayor over the highway.

  The cold feeling in her belly returned and she tugged against him, pleading with her eyes for him to tell her what was going on. Why was he being evasive when he was so open about everything else?

  Finally, she said, “I promised Marla to help her with a wedding this evening and we need to get ready for it.”

  “Marla gets the benefit of my misfortune.” Ethan cast a pair of puppy dog eyes at Allie.

  “You’ll survive,” Allie told him, not knowing whether to be irritated or not. Was the conversation so private he couldn’t just tell her? What was so secretive about a lumber order?

  Ethan came forward and Allie knew he was hoping for a kiss goodbye.

  “I think you’ve had enough kissing for one afternoon,” she told him.

  He shook his hair out of his eyes. “I can never get enough of you.”

  Allie drove back home, unsettled. Was she getting in over her head with Ethan? One moment he was rich, the next he was poor. He was a photographer. No, he owned a construction company. One moment he was Ethan Smith, the next he was Miles Benjamin Ethan the III. Grandson to the richest family in Heartland Cove.

  Marla was waiting for her at the house when she arrived.

  “So who have you been kissing?” her friend asked, giving her a sly look.

  “That’s ridiculous. What are you talking about?”

  “You look like a cat that swallowed a mouse—”

  “You mean a canary.”

  “You just have that “look” like when we were at university and you’d come home flushed and embarrassed to admit you’d been making out with your date.”

  “Stop being so astute,” Allie said with a glare.

  “Ethan Smith. That’s all I have to say.” Marla pulled her into the darkroom. “What do you think of these photos?”

  Rows of families and couples and children were hanging from clothes pins along the perimeter of the walls. All taken at the bridge.

  “You managed to snag a lot of customers.”

  “Good thing Ethan isn’t my competition. I’m so jealous of his photographer’s eye I could spit. But he does more nature stuff, not so much people.”

  “And he’s pretty busy re-building a major historical landmark into a tourist attraction.”

  “Ah, so you’ve been out to the old Chaplin home. Actually, I think that house is his great-great-grandparent’s home. They settled Heartland Cove in the early 1800s but I might be off by a decade or two.”

  “Doing your own personal research?” Allie said. Twinges of envy ate at her heart. What was wrong with her? She left Ethan with suspicions as wide as the St. John river and now the thought of him and Marla deep in meaningful conversation made her want to pull out her hair because Ethan Smith belonged to her.

  That was both sane and irrational, right?

  Despite his words and mind-blowing kisses, Ethan didn’t belong to her. But maybe she had that backwards. Ethan wanted to belong to her, but Allie’s heart was still closed off, cracking open for brief moment when she contemplated life with a man like him.

  She and Marla spent the late afternoon mounting the family photos for mailing.

  “I’ll take care of ordering envelopes in mass quantity and bulk mailing so the cost doesn’t absorb too much of the profits,” Allie said. “And I’ll start spreadsheets and do the tax paperwork. Oh, and we’ll have to talk income and invoices and bookkeeping and how you want things filed.”

  “Good golly, Allie, all of that is such a headache! I’m so glad I don’t have to worry about it.”

  “You only have to worry about being the artist. I’ll be your manager and we’ll live happily ever after.”

  “Done.” They shook hands in mock fashion and then Marla glanced at the clock. “I get first dibs on the shower! We need to get out to Somerville for the wedding. Can you make sure I have my tripod packed downstairs in that pile by the front door?”

  “Of course. Anything else?”

  Marla kept talking as she headed through the hallway to the guest room bath. “I have a check list on the table. Good thing the rain from last night cleared up. If it was still threatening I’d be a wreck. My first wedding has to go perfectly. So much is riding on it for future customers.”

  “Go take your shower and be quick!”

  Allie freshened her makeup and touched up her hair then grabbed her hand-bag and began loading the car with Marla’s equipment. She decided to move the car closer to the house but couldn’t find her keys. Which also meant she had no house key, either.

  Nobody in tiny Heartland locked their doors, right? And yet, many folks did with so many tourists wandering around all season.

  Allie felt uneasy leaving the house open, but tried to reassure herself while she finished packing Marla’s car. By the time they headed out of town, she put it out of her mind.

  Marla was nervous, but it was a small wedding for a couple that was remarrying for the second time, which calmed them both down. Still, there were pre-wedding photos, the ceremony in the backyard under an arbor, the wedding dinner, dancing, and some family groupings to snap.

  It was almost eleven o’clock when they got home. Two small table lamps burned in the downstairs and upstairs hall, giving the appearance that someone was home. Everything appeared in perfect order—except for a gift basket left just inside the front door.

  “Ethan,” Allie said with a sigh.

  “I’d love a gift basket from a man,” Marla said. “Or an actual date. Or even a phone call.”

  “It’s funny you say that because Ethan and I haven’t actually dated.”

  “Yeah, you just lived with him.”

  “No, I didn’t!” Allie protested. “I still have the rope and sheets to prove it, even if they’re packed away in the linen closet now.”

  “Technicalities, my dear!” Marla said gaily. “And now I’m dragging my weary body to bed. Thank you for everything, sweetie. See you in the morning.”

  Allie grabbed a cold Diet Coke from the fridge and put the basket on the table to open, a small thrill going up
her chest at the thought of a present.

  But when she opened up the gift, it wasn’t filled with gourmet cheeses or perfume or an engraved card inviting her to dinner, or anything romantic like that. It was filled with her mother’s homemade bread and jam and vegetables from her parent’s humongous summer garden. There was a lot of zucchini, of course.

  A batch of Mom’s extraordinary double chocolate brownies was the crowning glory.

  “What the heck—” Allie shook her head, not getting it at all. She opened the card that wasn’t completely sealed, the flap just tucked inside.

  The basket was not for her at all. It was actually for Ethan. From her parents. They must assume he came by here regularly. Or they didn’t know where he was staying now that he’d moved out. The note read:

  “Dear Ethan,

  This basket is a very small token of our eternal gratitude for purchasing the supplies we needed to rebuild the Strickland Family Fry business. You went above and beyond by delivering the materials as well as organizing the barn-raising, enlisting the entire town. We’ll never forget this. The project has been daunting and overwhelming but we’ll be back in business by the weekend and it’s all because of your generosity.

  We hope someday we can return the kindness, but an act we can never repay you for is your rescuing our daughter from the fire. You will always have a dear place in our lives and hearts.

  Thank you.

  Spencer and Phoebe Strickland

  * * *

  Allie’s throat closed up with tears. This was the phone call Ethan had been trying to hide from her. A phone call from the lumber yard about her parent’s fry shop. He had helped her parents. He had done this and hadn’t wanted any thanks. He didn’t want Allie feeling obligated toward him.

  Allie wept some more and reread the note. Oh, that Ethan Smith. Finally, she sniffed and then got up from her chair. Even though she’d been on her feet all evening at the wedding—after running from a moose that afternoon, she paced the house.

  Remembering her lost keys, Allie tried once more to find the house keys, but they were nowhere to be found. She wondered if she’d accidentally dropped them at the construction site or at the wedding.