He secured his bike on the back of his Land Rover and drove down the hill to his rental home, which was southeast of the small downtown of Crested Butte. As he passed the girl, who was running on his route, he was tempted to honk at her like a teenager, but refrained. He waved, but she either didn’t recognize him or was ignoring him. He laughed, half wanting to follow her home so he could see her again, but he’d promised not to.
Driving through Crested Butte, he thought how much he loved this town and how much his brother would hate it. The town was quiet, picturesque, and unique. Byron preferred loud, busy cities, with lots of glass and metal buildings and especially loads of beautiful, interested women.
His phone rang as he pulled into the garage. He sighed as he answered it. “Byron.”
“Hey, bro. How’s the first day of … what do you call this, vacation? Or was it a monastery?”
Chance chuckled. At twenty-eight, he mostly dealt with the older brother’s teasing without flaring up or calling names anymore. “They don’t let beautiful women into monasteries last time I checked.”
“Ooh. You gave up the vow of celibacy and found you a few hot ones?”
“One. That’s all you need, one, bro.” Chance had dated a lot of nice girls, but not even in the ballpark of the number of women his brother burned through, and Byron never failed to tease him about it.
He walked through the garage and into the open great room. The two-story windows gave an amazing view of the mountains on the back side of the Crested Butte Ski Resort. He might just live here year-round, bike all summer and ski all winter, and only have to deal with Byron and his latest girlfriend on the phone. It would be perfect.
“Says you. I tried one once and it didn’t work. The more the merrier, right?” Byron laughed, but it sounded forced. Chance didn’t know his brother had ever tried to focus on one woman for more than a couple of days. “Hey, I’m sending you some papers. I need you to check over the legalese mumbo-jumbo for me.”
Chance had taken the bar exam while Byron had mastered picking up women at bars. His brother was brilliant, though, driven to the point of being a workaholic, and people loved him, especially women. Byron could also market better than anyone Chance knew, and for the most part made a great partner.
“Another company?” Chance set his water bottles in the sink and headed for the master suite, ready for a shower.
“It’s a great one. The guy has created a new laptop that’s lighter and honestly has better features than the Mac Air, but he’s producing them for under a hundred dollars.”
“That’s not possible.”
“He’s doing it, I tell you, bro, and he just has no clue how to market the thing. You’ll see from the docs, we’re in negotiations for fifty-one percent of his company. He trusts us to bring in the money and the offers.”
“So he wants to sell?”
“Yes, he definitely wants to sell. He can create another product and do it again, and if we play it right, he’ll keep using us.”
“Sounds like a dream client.”
“For sure. Send those back to me by tonight?”
“You got it.” Chance slipped out of his sweaty biking clothes, glad to be done with the diaper-like bike pants. It was the one downside of biking, but luckily he’d found some that didn’t look quite so awful.
“How long you going to hide out in Crested Butt?”
“Butte,” Chance automatically corrected, though he didn’t know why. Byron would keep up the lame nickname to tease his brother. “A few weeks, maybe a month. I need to recharge.”
“Whatever. As long as you keep covering my butt legally, I’ll hold down the office for us. By the way, you don’t care if I take Serena out, do you?”
Chance turned on the shower. “Byron, really? How many new secretaries are we going to have to train? Yvonne is going to kill you if you date Serena and dump her and she ends up quitting.” Yvonne was their office manager and had only lasted the six years with them because she was old enough to be Byron’s mother, though that didn’t stop him from turning on the charm—it was just inborn with him. They paid Yvonne a lot of money to keep the business running, and to retrain secretaries after Byron broke their hearts.
“I have a good feeling about this one,” his brother insisted. “You don’t want to come between me and my soul mate, do you?”
Chance would’ve laughed if he hadn’t heard the line twenty times. For some reason, the deep blue eyes of his running beauty flashed into his mind. That girl was soul mate material—witty and, from what he could tell, had some substance. Serena could barely handle transferring phone calls and occasionally transcribing a message correctly. After thirty seconds of talking to her, Chance’s eyes glazed over with boredom. Byron didn’t care about a soul mate. He just wanted something new and beautiful.
“I often think if Mom and Dad would’ve told you no more, I wouldn’t have such a hard life,” Chance said.
Byron laughed. “Nobody can tell me no, least of all you.”
Chance sighed. It was sadly very true. He hung up before he could be accused of saying yes. Poor Serena.
Chapter Three
Summer could not get Channing Tatum’s lookalike out of her mind the next two days. One problem was that manning the home décor store, Sugar ’n’ Spice, for her friend, Haley, was just plain boring. It was fine when customers came in, but restocking inventory and sweeping and dusting didn’t challenge Summer’s brain much. She’d taken to sketching toy designs by hand or on her laptop. Haley told her that was fine as long as the customers were taken care of and the store looked good. Her friend was really kind to her, letting her stay in her little house on the farm and giving her this chance to figure out where she wanted to go from here.
Summer wasn’t completely out of money, but it could easily be argued—and had been by her brother, who she’d made swear not to tell her parents she was low on funds—that she should’ve saved more when she’d been making great money for Magical Dream Toys as their toy designer. Especially when her Mini-Me dolls had been a top toy last Christmas and she’d raked in the royalties.
When her dad was snow-jobbed into selling and then the new owners dropped all of them within weeks, she was floored, devastated, left without any idea of where to go. She’d spent her days before the disaster designing toys, sending them on to the production team, and traveling with Taylor, who had an amazing traveling blog and actually got paid to vacation. But vacationing to exotic spots was not cheap, and Summer hadn’t really been concerned with saving money.
Life had screeched to a halt with no positive cash flow and nobody willing to produce her creations. Her brother, although shocked that she hadn’t stashed away more, had tried to give her money. Of course she’d blatantly refused. He needed to take care of his own family. She’d lied to her parents and told them she had plenty of money and that she was going to visit her friends in Crested Butte and figure out what direction she wanted to go next.
She was a single, smart, driven woman; she’d be fine. If she could just find another company to design for.
Haley had offered for her to come stay for the summer and work at the store. With two of her longtime friends living in the valley, Summer thought it was perfect. MacKenzie, a grade-school teacher, was married to Haley’s brother, Isaac. Isaac had an innovative business with welding art, but he wasn’t close to a billionaire, so MacKenzie had definitely broken the Billionaire Bride Pact the twelve friends had made at summer camp one night. Dumb teenagers, anyway. Even though MacKenzie had to sing the annoying Camp Wallakee song at her wedding as punishment, she didn’t care because she was so happy. She and Isaac were much too cute.
Haley had married an extremely wealthy, extremely handsome guy named Cal, and seeing little Taz with his new dad was the best. Haley, Cal, and Taz were off traveling most of the summer, since Taz would start first grade in the fall and they’d have to actually be grounded to one location for at least five days a week. Summer loved that Haley had th
e opportunity to check out the world with her new husband; before she’d married Cal, she could barely afford to take her son to the beach once a year. Yet Summer had found herself spending a lot of time alone, messing up her plans of reconnecting with old friends. She usually only saw Haley and Isaac’s smart-aleck dad, Trevor.
She was lonely, but at least she had her designs. She didn’t know what she was going to do with all of her new ideas if she couldn’t find an employer. The big companies were too hard to break into and only wanted cookie-cutter stuff anyway. She was researching some successful independents like Magical Dream Toys had been back in the happy days. There were a few options, but she wanted her portfolio bursting with new ideas before she approached one. The ornery old guy, Mr. Lillywhite, who had bought out Magical Dream Toys and fired her family, owned the rights to all her old designs. She gritted her teeth and focused on her computer.
The door dinged open and she stood to greet the customer. “Hello, welcome to Sugar ’n’ …” Her voice fell away as her jaw dropped open. “Channing Tatum,” she whispered.
The guy grinned. Ooh, she loved that dimple. “It’s actually Chance Judd.” He covered the space between them in four long strides and stuck out his hand. His very manly, tanned hand, with just the right amount of veins to show he knew how to swing some weights around, or a hammer … hmm, she liked the vision of the hammer. She might be drawing that tonight.
Summer put her hand in his. Yep, his hands felt as nice as they looked—warm, big, and just a hint of calluses, so you knew it truly was a manly hand and not just a wannabe. “Summer Anderson.”
“Summer.” He said her name so sweetly she wanted to sigh. Holding on to her hand, he turned her arm slightly. “I’m sorry about the scratches.” He looked over her face too, but those had healed more quickly than her arms, and a slight covering of makeup helped too.
“It’s okay. I’m a tough chick.” She pulled her hand back. “What can I help you find today, sir?”
“You work here?” His greenish-blue eyes focused on her face.
Summer bristled. It wasn’t such a lame job. Okay, it was, but she had higher aspirations. “Yes, sir. May I be of assistance?” She put enough bite into her voice he should’ve dodged out of her way.
But he was brave, or maybe just stupid, and took a step forward. “I’m sorry, it’s only … Never mind.”
“Never mind what?” Summer arched an eyebrow and dared him to say it. “Spit it out, you got it that far.”
“You don’t seem the type to …”
“Work as a lowly front desk girl at a home décor store?” she supplied for him. This guy was begging to get his rear kicked. “What, you thought I would be a waitress or maybe a maid at one of the resorts?” She placed both hands under her chin and curtsied submissively. He was a rich jerk, anyway.
“No. You have a very creative aura about you.” He gestured to her silky tank top and flowing knee-length skirt. “Backed up by the way you dress.”
“What the snot does that mean? ‘Creative aura’? You’re a suit. What would you know about creativity?” She did not like people who judged based on outside appearance, regardless of how fantastic his outside appearance was.
“I’m a suit?” He looked amused at her assumption. “Why do you think that?”
She gestured to his pressed khakis and button-down short-sleeved shirt. “Nobody dresses up in Crested Butte. Most people go to dinner in their hiking or biking gear. Only a suit wears crap like that on vacation.”
He laughed. “You want to grab some lunch?”
Part of her wanted to say yes, but he wasn’t her type—wealthy, good-looking, smart, and active didn’t do it for her anymore. She smiled to herself, not believing the lie. “No, thank you. I’m working here, and even if I wasn’t, I don’t go to lunch with judgmental suits who think they know something about someone just because of their ‘appearance.’”
He backed up a step. “Excuse me for making an assumption.”
“Hmm. Nope. No excuses.” She actually grinned at his shocked expression. “You sound like a lawyer.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” His eyebrows dipped down.
“It’s a very bad thing. The last lawyers I associated with explained how I had no recourse because I had had the gall to trust someone’s word. Very scary thing in the world today, trusting someone.”
His face tightened, and she could see a muscle working in his jaw. “I’m sorry to hear that. Most lawyers would try to help you in a situation like that.”
“You’d like to think so.” She raised her nose at him. “Is there something I can help you find in the store, sir?”
Chance glanced around, then grabbed a scarf off a nearby rack and set it on the desk. “I’ll take this scarf, please.”
She gently rolled up the rayon-silk blue scarf. He’d picked one of her favorites. “For your girlfriend?” He’d told her he wasn’t married, but there could still be a gorgeous girlfriend lingering out there. She honestly didn’t care. Nope, didn’t care. Okay, maybe cared a little bit.
He tilted his head to the side and studied her. “Does it matter to you who it’s for?”
Summer’s breath caught at the interest in his eyes. “No. I just would … wrap it differently if it was for, say, your mom or your secretary.” She bit at the side of her lip, hoping he would believe her lie as she pulled out a pink gift sack.
He softly chuckled. “I see. It’s for my office manager. My brother is causing grief with our new secretary, so I’m trying to butter up Yvonne so she doesn’t quit.”
Summer didn’t appreciate that he’d dodged the question of the girlfriend so effectively. She had to admit, she was interested. Maybe he was a stuffy suit, but he seemed like a thoughtful guy. There was a slight chance she’d agree to lunch sometime, if he dared ask again. She’d bitten his hand cleanly off the first time, but he’d shown admirable bravery twice.
“I think she’ll love the scarf,” she said in what she hoped was a professional tone. She placed some blue-and-pink plaid tissue in the bag and tried to arrange it like Haley would, but Summer’s hands didn’t quite work that way. She could sketch with the best of them and design amazing toys on her computer, but to make things look frou-frou was quite beyond her.
Chance extended his credit card. Summer couldn’t resist touching his fingers again as she took the card. He focused the force of those teal-colored eyes on her. Summer had to grab on to the counter for stability. “Will that be all, sir?”
“Unless you know of a beautiful lady with honey-blonde hair who would be willing to go to dinner with me tonight?”
Smooth, real smooth. She tsked. “Hmm. Sorry, I don’t. Jake down at the bar runs a high-dollar escort service. Check with him.” Okay, so maybe she wasn’t quite ready to say yes. It was too fun to tease with him.
Chance let out a laugh. “I generally try to avoid those.”
“With your face I’m sure the women would pay you.” Dang it! Had she just said that? She needed to stop fueling this man’s ego. He obviously didn’t need it. She handed him back the card and the slip to sign.
“Because I look like Channing Tatum?”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Chance was a force all unto himself. She could see how he would be even more appealing than Channing Tatum, to her at least. She handed over the bag. “Well, good luck finding that woman.”
“I think I’ll need more than luck.” He had the nerve to wink at her. Good for him.
“Probably,” she agreed. “Those honey-blonde beauties can be pieces of work.” He had called her beautiful. Not that she hadn’t heard those words from a lot of men, but the validation from Chance warmed her. Though he’d also been confused why she’d be working as a clerk. Join the club, buddy.
He laughed again. “Maybe, but they’re a lot of fun to be around.” He winked once more and strode to the front door.
Summer watched him go. The view was nice and she liked the flirtations and banter, but she’d had h
er fill of suits who wanted her to settle down. She’d also had her fill of wanderers who only wanted a fling. Hmm. She wasn’t sure where that left her. She’d have to see if there was a new category. Someone like MacKenzie’s Isaac, a hard worker who didn’t put airs on. Yet as she thought of Chance, it wasn’t his lawyer persona that stood out. It was his fun, teasing manner and the fact that he looked as good in designer clothes as he had in bike shorts, and she hadn’t thought anybody looked good in bike shorts before.
Chapter Four
Chance lounged on a bench on Main Street, watching Summer lock the door of Sugar ’n’ Spice. He’d found UPS and sent off Yvonne’s gift, then went to lunch by himself, sitting in the sun and working on his laptop for a few hours at one of the outdoor tables on the back patio of the Sunflower Deli. He’d gotten Byron’s latest requests accomplished, and Yvonne’s as well. Everything was going well for Mumford’s Sons; he just hoped he could keep Byron under control. Yvonne had been outraged when she found out Byron and Serena were dating. Byron kept claiming it was true love, but he’d been caught kissing the girl in his office less than three hours after Chance had talked to his brother. He sighed and shook his head, wishing Byron would find his true love and settle down. It would save his only brother a lot of stress.
As it got closer to five o’clock, he moved to a bench out front so he could keep an eye on Summer’s shop door. He waited patiently, and close to six she appeared, locked the door, and retrieved a beach cruiser from the rack out front. He’d planned to follow her discreetly, until he found the right moment to casually talk to her, but he’d walked from his rental house. He didn’t have a bike or a car, so he’d better approach her now.
The Daring One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance Page 2
