The Adventurous One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance

by Jeanette Lewis

  “Goodness yes, you shouldn’t have stayed this whole time anyway,” Grandma replied. “Go get some rest; both of you. I’ll be fine.”

  “Yes,” Taylor urged. “I can stay all day.”

  After they left, Grandma patted the bed. “Now, come tell me all about your travels.”

  Taylor was describing the membrillo empanadas she’d bought from a street peddler in Coba when they were interrupted by a brisk knock on the door. An attractive woman in pink scrubs bounced into the room, followed by two nurses, one carrying a walker.

  “Mrs. Barston, how about we get you up for a little while?”

  “This is Beth, my physical therapist,” Grandma said to Taylor.

  “Are you sure she’s strong enough?” Taylor couldn’t help asking. The way Grandma shook sent a fresh wave of worry rolling through her.

  “Oh, we won’t make her work too hard,” Beth assured them.

  Taylor stepped back and nervously watched as the women helped Grandma swing her legs over the bed. Her little groans of pain cut straight to Taylor’s heart, but she stayed in the background and felt greatly relieved when Grandma was able to stand for a few minutes.

  “Very good,” Beth said cheerfully as they helped her back into bed. “Tomorrow we’ll try for a bit longer and you’ll be walking again before you know it.”

  Grandma panted with exhaustion, but she managed a nod and smile. “Yes, that would be good. Thank you very much.”

  They left after the nurses took her vital signs and Grandma closed her eyes. “I just need a little rest,” she murmured. She was asleep before Taylor had moved her chair back to the bedside.

  Taylor got out her laptop and connected to the hospital’s network. She pulled up her blog and navigated to the bottom of her latest post, smiling a little when she saw how many comments were already there. The only thing better than a job traveling the world was a job that put her in touch with so many incredibly supportive and loving people. She’d had her share of trolls, but as she read through the comments, she saw most were expressions of love and well wishes for Grandma. Many of Taylor’s readers had been with her for months, or even years. They’d never met in person, but she felt like she knew them, like they’d shared every one of her adventures right along with her. She made a mental note to read some of the comments to Grandma when she woke up.

  She glanced over at the bed; Grandma was still sleeping peacefully. Amazing how just a few minutes of standing had worn her out so thoroughly. Had it been that way for Lane too? It’d probably been worse for Lane. Her mind shied away from trying to imagine how his first few days, or even weeks, must have been after the accident. That level of pain and grief was almost incomprehensible.

  She moved from the comments on her last post to the one before, the one from Mexico where she’d posted pictures of their bungalows and the little open-air club they’d found on the beach. The first comment on the post was from Anonymous.

  Not as good as Moon Palace.

  Of course it was Brent; Taylor didn’t need a name to recognize him. He’d made himself a constant thorn on her blog, always posting snide comments and trying to remind her how good she’d had it when they’d been married.

  There had been good times. They’d gone to Cancun for their honeymoon and stayed at Moon Palace, a five-star resort on the beach. They’d gone snorkeling and paddle boarding, enjoyed massages at the spa, eaten luxury meals, and every night they’d gone to sleep with the sound of the ocean coming through the windows.

  But all that was before she’d really gotten to know him. They’d been married so fast, too fast. And once the real Brent started to emerge, Taylor hadn’t liked what she’d found at all.

  She ground her teeth and hit the delete key to erase his comment. Go away, loser.

  During the divorce, she’d given up all claim to his money, even though her attorney pushed her to claim alimony. After eighteen months of marriage, she was entitled, the attorney said. But Taylor refused. She didn’t want any links between her and Brent, any way for him to be in her life. But it seemed like he was determined to force himself where he wasn’t wanted.

  Her text alert dinged. It was Lane.

  Ice cream at Nan’s sounds great. I’ll meet you there at one.

  A thrill of anticipation shot through her. Why did something as simple as ice cream suddenly seem like a grand adventure? Because it was Lane. The thought of his lazy smile sent her heart racing.

  Chapter 6

  Nan’s Ice Cream was a staple in Sioux Falls as a hangout for the college students, a favorite place for families, and home of the best ice cream ever. At least as far as Lane was concerned. He followed after the hostess, weaving around the tables in the crowded dining room until they came to a booth.

  “Is this okay?” she asked.

  “Perfect,” Lane nodded and slid into the side of the booth facing the door. He’d arrived ten minutes early.

  He ordered a soda and fiddled with the straw wrapper while he waited. What if she didn’t come? The chances of Taylor standing him up seemed slim, but there was always the possibility. It had happened before.

  But this was Taylor. She’d anchored his safety harness on a steep rock face or crazy climbing wall countless times. They’d spent three days camping at Thunder Butte with the rest of the outdoor club and she’d been the only one to roll out her sleeping bag next to his in the dirt so they could see the stars instead of the ceiling of a tent. Taylor wouldn’t stand him up.

  She came in the door at exactly one o’clock and stopped in the lobby, scanning the room for him. When she spotted him, her face lit up with a smile that he knew matched his own goofy grin. He slid from the booth and braced his hand on the table so he could stand gracefully—more or less.

  Taylor looked fantastic in a colorful embroidered skirt and a drapey white shirt with an open neck that allowed a peek of her tanned collarbone. The skirt brushed just below her knees, showing her long, lean legs and dainty black leather sandals. A small silver chain glimmering at her throat was her only jewelry. Her tawny hair framed her face in loose waves and her eyes were wide and sparkling with fun.

  “Hey you,” she said when she got closer, bringing along a rush of her crisp, spicy perfume.

  “Hi,” he said, striving to play it cool in spite of his pounding heartbeat. “I hope this is okay,” he waved one arm toward the booth.

  “Perfect.” She took a little stutter step toward him, like she’d been going to kiss his cheek, then thought better of it. For a moment they stood there awkwardly, but then she gave him a little smile and slid into her side of the booth. “I haven’t been to Nan’s in years,” she said, looking around.

  He sat back down and tried to think of something witty to say, but Taylor reached for a menu and her hair swooped over her shoulder in rippling waves. Another wave of her perfume hit him and his mouth went dry.

  “Do they still have the Super Split?” she asked as she scanned the menu.

  Lane took a gulp of soda. “I’m not sure,” he said weakly. “We could ask.”

  Pathetic.

  She lowered the laminated plastic menu and gave him a curious look. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah ... yep, I’m fine. I’m just ...” Lane shook his head. “Wow, you look amazing!”

  Taylor’s eyes softened. “Thank you. You look great too.”

  He wished he’d dressed up a little more than khaki pants and a t-shirt, but he threw her a grin anyway. “Thanks.”

  “So, Super Split,” Taylor picked up the thread of the conversation. “Remember when you cost me ten dollars because I bet you’d never eat the whole thing ... and then you did?”

  Lane groaned. “I think my stomach still hurts from that night.” Nan’s super splits were the stuff of legend, a humongous masterpiece involving six bananas, chocolate dipped strawberries, mini peanut butter cups, and brownie bites along with and untold amounts of ice cream, hot fudge, and whipped cream. He’d conquered it once, and once had been enough. “Ar
e you saying it’s your turn? I’d put up ten dollars on you any day.”

  “No thanks,” she grinned. “I know my limitations.”

  “Are you hungry?” he asked quickly, trying to focus. The memories were coming fast and thick, making his heart ache. “I know we said ice cream, but if you’d rather have something else ... burger, or ...” he squinted, trying to think. “What did you always order? No don’t tell me,” he said when she opened her mouth to reply. “I’ll think of it.”

  Taylor grinned and sat back, sinking into the padded seat of the booth. “This could take a while. I’ll make myself comfortable.”

  He shot her a look. “I’m good at this, give me a second.” They usually took their own food on their outings with the outdoor club, but occasionally they’d stop by a diner. They’d even come here a few times, the whole group, pulling tables together and staying long past their welcome as they swapped stories and jokes. He could still hear the laughter.

  “Turkey avocado on whole wheat,” Lane snapped his fingers. “With sprouts if they had them.”

  The admiration in Taylor’s eyes made him feel ten feet tall. “Very good. I’m impressed.”

  “Would you like one now?” Lane offered. “I think they have sprouts here.”

  She shook her head. “Thanks, but I already ate lunch. I’ll stick with ice cream.”

  “How’s your grandma?” he asked. “I hope I’m not taking you away when she needs you.”

  “No, it’s fine; she’s doing better. I just came from the hospital. She stood yesterday and today they had her up walking. She’s in pain, but she’s doing it. I can’t believe how brave she is.” Something flared in her eyes, a realization. “I’m sorry,” she flushed.

  “For what?” Lane asked in surprise. “For being glad your grandma can walk? It’s okay, Taylor, really.”

  She raised her head, her beautiful blue eyes shining with tears. “I read the news stories online,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry; I can’t even imagine how it must have been for you. I wish I could have been here to help.”

  He reached across the table and took her hand, marveling at how perfectly her fingers fit into his. “Thank you. But I’m doing well and I’m over it.” No need for her to know there were many, many times when he definitely was not over it—of all the sleepless nights when he’d lie in bed gritting his teeth against the phantom pains that never completely went away; of the sorrow he felt when he saw men his age out with their wives, girlfriends, children; of the despair that sometimes overtook him when he thought of the future. “It’s okay,” he said again evenly, concentrating on the warmth of her hand in his.

  “Are you ready to order?” Of course the waiter would pick this moment to materialize.

  Taylor gently withdrew her hand and grasped the menu again. “I’d like a chocolate chip swirl, please,” she said.

  The waiter nodded and turned to Lane.

  “Do you still do potato chip sundaes?” he asked.

  “Yup,” the waiter grinned. “Small, medium, or large?”

  “Potato chip?” Taylor asked. “I didn’t see that on the menu.”

  “It’s not,” Lane replied. “But if you ask nicely, they’ll make it for you.”

  “With real potato chips?”

  The waiter nodded. “Vanilla ice cream with caramel sauce and regular potato chips.”

  “And it’s delicious,” Lane added. “I’ll have a medium,” he told the waiter.

  “What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever eaten,” Lane asked as they waited. He really wanted to reach over and hold her hand again, but kept chickening out.

  “Hmmmm,” Taylor squinted, thinking. “Probably cow’s tongue last year in Guatemala. What about you?”

  “I ate a cricket once.”

  “Roasted ... fried ...?”

  “Raw,” he admitted. “My brother dared me when we were kids.”

  Taylor shuddered. “Ick.”

  “Yeah, I don’t really recommend it.” Lane grinned and took a sip of his soda. “They’re probably okay cooked, but it was as little rough raw.”

  She laughed. “So you’d eat a cricket burrito as long as it’s cooked properly?”

  “You can eat anything in a burrito that’s cooked properly,” Lane said with authority.

  Her laughter felt like freedom.

  The potato chip sundae was delicious, smooth and creamy but with just the right touch of saltiness and crunch. But the company was better, so much better. They bantered back and forth, reliving memories from school and catching each other up on their lives since the outdoors club. It was one of the best days he’d had in a long time.

  Taylor was having such a good time that she completely forgot about taking pictures before her chocolate chip swirl had turned into a melty, gooey mess.

  “Oh shoot!” She looked at Lane apologetically. “Sorry, you’re going to think I’m a huge nerd, but do you mind if I take a picture?” She got her phone from her purse and opened the camera to selfie mode. Because of the travel blog, she was supposed to constantly be thinking about content. Usually it wasn’t too difficult—but usually she didn’t have an incredibly handsome man sitting across from her telling stories and making her forget everything but the sound of his laughter.

  “It might be too late,” Lane said, pointing at their half-eaten, rapidly melting ice cream.

  “It’s okay, I can still take one of you and me. It’s for my blog,” she clarified and when he nodded, she leaned toward him across the table. “C’mon, squish in.”

  He leaned forward so their heads were almost touching and Taylor’s stomach flipped. He was so close she could smell the potato chips on his breath along with the deep, woodsy scent of his aftershave. They’d never kissed, but she’d thought about it several times. What would it be like to kiss him now?

  “Do you want me to say cheese?” Lane asked, prodding her back to the moment.

  “No, sorry,” she stammered. “On three.” She snapped several pictures, then slipped the phone back into her purse. “Thanks for indulging me.”

  “No problem. What’s your blog about?”

  She told him about her travel blog while they finished the ice cream, leaving out the part about Brent’s influence.

  “It sounds great,” he said when she’d finished.

  The wistfulness in his voice made her heart ache. “So, you said the other day that you work in a call center?” She said.

  “Yeah. I’m a manager at Centrics and am well on my way to becoming a solid citizen.” He smiled, but there was a shade of pain in his eyes.

  In the outdoor club, Lane had been the leader, always the first one in the water or to the top of the mountain. If there were caves to explore or cliffs to jump off, he was there, raring to go. It was hard to square those memories to the man who sat across from her now. Trying to picture Lane spending eight hours sitting at a desk was like trying to imagine the sky with no stars.

  She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “What’s that like? The call center?” she asked.

  He pulled a face. “To be honest, I spend way too much time trying to motivate adults to do their jobs.”

  “What do you mean?” Taylor took a sip of water. Lane dropped his gaze to her lips wrapped around the straw and then quickly looked back to her eyes. “Just that I feel like the world’s dorkiest cheerleader,” he said. “I mean, they’re adults, they’re working there of their own free will and getting paid, you’d think that would be enough motivation. But the higher ups want to have contests and give away prizes to the top salespeople. Last month we even did a crazy hair day, I felt like I was back in elementary school.”

  Taylor laughed. “And what did you do for crazy hair day? C’mon, spill.”

  He grimaced and reached for his phone. “I’m not proud of this,” he warned as he scrolled through his pictures until he found the one he wanted. “Don’t be mean,” he said as he passed her the phone.

  She laughed with delight as she studied the
screen, which showed a picture of him with his blond hair painted bright pink and pulled into a spiky ponytail on the top of his head. “That’s fantastic,” Taylor said. “I think it could be your new look.”

  “Yeah right,” he chuckled. “I look straight out of the Flintstones. It was a half-hearted attempt, I admit. But it seemed to work; we had good numbers that day.”

  Her face fell. “But it’s not ... I mean, I never pictured you working in a call center.”

  Condensation from his water glass had started to bead up and run onto the table. Lane rubbed his thumb over the wet surface. “Yeah, me neither. But after the accident, my options were limited.”

  She stirred her ice cream, heartbroken to think of all he’d lost.

  “I’ll bet you’ve had all kinds of adventures in your travels,” Lane said, obviously ready to move on to other topics. “Tell me about some of them.”

  Taylor nodded and thought for a moment, searching for something he’d like. “There’s this hike on Eua Island in Tonga that leads to the most amazing waterfall. It simply disappears into this huge cave; you can’t see the bottom. They call it the waterfall with no end. Pretty incredible.”

  Pain flashed through his eyes, but he smiled. “It sounds fantastic. You’ll have to show me your pictures some time.”

  “I did a whole series of posts about it on my blog,” she said. “I’ll send you a link. But pictures don’t do it justice; you really should go see it in person; I’ll bet you’d love it.”

  Lane chewed on his lower lip. “My hiking days are behind me,” he muttered.

  She tried to think of something to say that didn’t sound condescending, and couldn’t. So she turned back to her ice cream while he took another sip of water. Finally, she looked up. “I’d better get back,” she admitted reluctantly.

  His shoulders were hunched forward and his jaw tightened. “Okay.” He scooted to the edge of the bench and swung his legs to the edge, gripping the table so hard his knuckles turned white. He stood, swaying a bit, and glanced over to see if she’d noticed.

  Quickly, Taylor looped her purse over her shoulder and got to her feet and they made their way through the restaurant in silence.