The Adventurous One: A Billionaire Bride Pact Romance

by Jeanette Lewis

  Taylor’s cheeks grew hot. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  He reached out and took her hand. “No apologies. Let’s enjoy the day.”

  The mood immediately changed. At his touch, all the coldness and negative emotion seemed to drain away until she felt almost ... melty. Their hands fit together perfectly, his fingers closing around hers with just the right amount of pressure. Tingles pulsed up her arm.

  They’d reached the Japanese flower garden and held hands as they meandered along the stone paths and wooden boardwalks. The weeping willows dipped their delicate branches into the trickling streams and lily pads dotted the ponds. Carefully sculpted evergreens added their spicy scent to the air and wooden pagodas were nestled in the lush greenery, more than one occupied by a group taking photos. Their joyful laughter shimmered in the air.

  The red-painted Lotus bridge arched gracefully over the water like a dancer in a backbend. Taylor hesitated, eyeing the incline.

  “I’m game if you are,” Lane said, tugging on her hand.

  The bridge wasn’t long, but it was steep and almost immediately, Taylor sensed Lane was struggling. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, noticing he had to swing his legs from the hips instead of bending his knees. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and she could hear him trying to control his breathing. His face flushed but whether it was from the exertion or embarrassment, she couldn’t tell.

  She stepped to the rail and stopped, leaning on her elbows. “Isn’t this pretty?”

  From the bemused look on his face, she knew she hadn’t fooled him one bit. “Yup, very pretty,” he said wryly as he joined her.

  A pair of black swans floated silently under the bridge, their profiles flashing briefly against the white skirt of a bride posing on the bank.

  “Do they hurt?” Taylor finally asked. “Your legs?”

  “Yeah, sometimes,” Lane admitted. “My stum...my residual limbs change and then the fit isn’t quite right, so that can cause problems. But I’ve gotten used to it.”

  She swallowed, not quite knowing what to say. “And I’ve been lecturing you about trying harder. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” he shifted his weight and put his arm around her shoulders, flooding her senses with his woodsy cologne. She dropped her head back against the hard muscles in his shoulder and felt his cheek come to rest on the side of her head. Funny how on Brent, the same sized muscles seemed gaudy and overdone, but on Lane, they were perfect. Maybe because she knew how hard won they were and how much he needed them to get around, while Brent’s were only for show.

  “Listen to you, comforting me over the loss of your legs,” she said mockingly.

  “I’ve gotten used to it,” he murmured against her hair.

  “I know. It’s just so unfair.”

  She felt him nod. “Yep. And it’s not fair that your grandma fell or that your marriage ended badly. Trust me, I’ve had to learn a whole lot about fairness.”

  They stood like that for some time, watching the swans and the brides. Children ran along the boardwalk and carp swarmed at the base of the bridge. Taylor took a deep breath. Lane’s body pressed against hers was warm and strong and sent flurries rushing through her. She knew she should not be getting into this, but nothing in the world could have pulled her away from him at the moment.

  Lane inhaled the clean scent of Taylor’s hair. Despite the problem with the bridge, as far as he was concerned, it’d been a perfect day.

  “Can I ask a personal question?” She finally asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’ve seen stories before about people with prosthetics climbing mountains. I think I remember reading about someone even climbing Mt. Everest.”

  Lane nodded against her hair. “Yeah. A couple of combat amputees did it last spring; I read about it. But they used very specialized equipment.”

  “So could you get some specialized equipment? Or ... more specialized than you already have?”

  “Yeah, for a couple hundred thousand dollars,” he said.

  She whipped around to stare at him, her eyes wide. “That much?”

  “My insurance pays for my old reliables here,” he tapped his fake foot against the bridge rail, making it ring. “Anything fancier comes out of my pocket and I’m still saving up.”

  “So you’ll get them eventually?” Taylor asked.

  “Um, maybe in about three hundred years.”

  “Why are they so expensive?”

  “They’re making all kinds of advancements in prosthetics, but all that technology comes with a cost. Some have microchips that can sense your weight distribution and control the way the knee locks and unlocks, which makes them operate much more smoothly than what I’ve got. Of course, if you want to go really snazzy, there are bionic legs that can read and react to brainwaves, just like muscles do.”

  “And those are hundreds of thousands?”

  “Or more,” Lane admitted. He’d spent hours browsing the internet, reading about the latest science behind prosthetics and imagining what he could do with legs that could read his brain waves. It would be almost like having his own legs back again. The thought made him ache with longing.

  Upstream, one of the swans lifted its beak and called to the other in a ringing, bugle tone that was somehow aggressive and lonely at the same time. The sound cut to his heart. Both swans turned and began gliding back toward the bridge as Lane gave Taylor’s shoulders a squeeze. As much as he’d like to stay here all day, he was starting to get tired. “Ready to head back?”

  “Okay. You can hold on to me if you need to.”

  Holding on to Taylor would be about the best thing he could imagine, but not like that. Not like an invalid who couldn’t even manage a simple hill. He shook his head and took a firmer grip on the rail of the bridge. “I’m okay, thanks.”

  Taylor was quiet as they retracted their steps down the bridge. Lane sank onto a bench a few feet away and stretched out his legs, trying not to show his grimace of pain. Taylor sat next to him, not touching, but close enough he could feel her warmth.

  “Have you ... maybe you could hold some kind of a fundraiser?” Taylor said after a long moment.

  “My neighbors held a bake sale and a 5K not long after the accident,” he admitted. He’d been in the hospital, of course, but his parents had attended. “All the money raised went to medical bills.”

  “Maybe we could do another one? Or a crowdsourcing page online? We could advertise it on my blog and my readers will donate, I know it.” Her voice lit with excitement.

  Lane shook his head. “No thanks. I don’t want charity.”

  “But you admitted you’ll never make so much money on your own. And weren’t you just saying that strangers tell you they’ll pray for you? If people want to help, why not let them?”

  He turned to face her. “I don’t want to be a special cause. I don’t want to be set up as a charity case in front of thousands of people.”

  Taylor’s face fell, but she nodded. “Okay. I understand.”

  He reached for her hand and couldn’t help grinning as she squeezed his fingers, heat zinging up his arm like a shock. Maybe he’d never climb Mount Everest, but right now, that was okay. This was the only place he wanted to be.

  The bake sale and 5K brought in around six thousand dollars. No small amount, but pennies when compared to the costs. All of it had been sucked up by medical bills with none left for upgraded prosthetics.

  The local news covered the story and Lane reluctantly agreed to an interview from his hospital bed. They claimed they wanted to help raise publicity, but who were they kidding? The accident had been big news in the weeks before, who didn’t want a chance to gawk at the guy with no legs?

  He’d never watched the whole interview, but he’d seen enough to make him shudder. The Lane on the screen was chalk white and emaciated, huge dark circles under his eyes and his cheekbones jutting out like sails. His eyes were glaze
d from the pain meds and he spoke in a voice barely above a whisper, thanking everyone for their love and concern. Lane didn’t remember the interview at all and had no wish to relive it. He’d earn the money for the better prosthetics ... eventually.

  Lane reached for his water bottle on the bedside table and took a sip as he clicked through Taylor’s blog on his phone. Mexico, South America, New Zealand, the Philippines, Europe ... she’d been all over the world and it seemed like she had no intention of slowing down. By her accounts, her grandmother was improving steadily, which meant her days in Sioux Falls were probably numbered. She’d duck out just as they were getting reacquainted, leaving him with a whole new crop of memories he’d have to try and bury.

  He shouldn’t let himself fall in love with her, this could only end badly. But when he thought about her smile, her fingers clasped in his, the way the sun shone on her hair, he knew it was too late. He’d been in love with her for years and now his feelings were only growing stronger.

  Chapter 9

  Taylor pulled her ugly blanket over her legs and reached for her phone. After the Camp Wallakee reunion at Nikki’s wedding last fall, Erin set up a contact list with everyone’s emails and phone numbers. Taylor hadn’t used it until now and she felt a little foolish, calling only when she was in need. But this wasn’t for her, it was for Lane.

  Her friend answered on the second ring. “Holly Clarke.”

  “Holly, hi. This is Taylor Medlin ... from camp.” Taylor winced. She sounded like a hesitant child next to Holly’s brisk professionalism.

  “Taylor! How are things going?” Holly’s tone warmed immediately.

  Holly’s family owned an extremely successful luxury resort in Utah. Holly issued an open invitation for them all to visit, but Taylor hadn’t been able to make it yet. But from the website, the resort appeared fantastic.

  She’d read on a group email that Holly had recently been promoted to head of the resort’s charitable wing and after a few minutes of small talk, Taylor cleared her throat. “Uh ... the reason I’m calling is I’m wondering if you would be interested in a special project.” Quickly she told Holly about Lane and about the upgraded prosthetics he needed.

  “I don’t really know how much it would be, I haven’t talked to a doctor or anything yet. But I thought if maybe you and a few of the other camp girls wanted to help him out, maybe we could at least give him a good start.”

  Holly’s voice sounded thoughtful. “My fiancé runs an organization that provides homes for wounded veterans. I’m sure he’s probably got connections to medical suppliers who would either donate or give us good discounts.”

  Relief coursed through Taylor. “Really? That would be fantastic, thank you so much! I know he’ll really appreciate it. He’s a great guy and very sweet and ...” the memory of Lane’s quick grin sent a wave of happiness thrumming through her. She couldn’t wait to tell him about Holly’s offer. “He’d put them to good use, I promise.”

  “You don’t have to justify him,” Holly replied. “I can tell how much you care about him and that’s good enough for me.”

  “Wait ... did you say fiancé?” Taylor asked, ready to change the subject.

  Holly laughed. “I thought for sure Erin would have already messaged everyone. Yes, Jordan and I are engaged, the wedding is in November; do you think you can make it?”

  “I’ll definitely try,” Taylor promised. “The big question is, will you be singing the song?” According to the Billionaire Bride Pact, anyone who did not marry big money had to stand and sing the Camp Wallakee theme song at their reception. The very obnoxious Camp Wallakee theme song. The trill of bird calls at the end was fine for a group of hyper teenagers around a camp fire, but something else again for a woman in a wedding gown on one of the most important days of her life.

  “No,” Holly admitted. “I don’t think I’ll be singing the song.”

  She was far too classy to come right out and say it, but Taylor took that to mean one thing. Jordan was loaded. And yeah, Holly’s family had money so she was already loaded, but the point of the Pact was to marry a rich man. Never mind how silly it looked from an adult perspective, as teenagers, the pact represented full Cinderella fairytale fulfillment and Taylor at least, had fallen for it completely.

  Whether they thought it silly or not, quite a few of the Camp Wallakee girls were well on their way to fulfilling the pact and avoiding the penalty. Nikki had been married to an entrepreneur in a graveyard last fall; Alyssa and Maryn were both recently married; and Holly and Erin were engaged. As far as she knew, all the grooms except Erin’s were filthy rich. And Erin was a Broadway actress. She wouldn’t mind singing the song at her reception, in fact, she probably looked forward to it.

  “Congratulations,” Taylor said. “I’ll definitely try to make the wedding.”

  They chatted a few more minutes and Holly promised to call when she’d talked to Jordan and had more news about getting the prosthetics for Lane. Taylor pushed the end button and gave a little squeal of excitement.

  “What are you so happy about?” Cece glanced up from the table where she sat with her computer.

  Quickly Taylor filled her in. “I wanted to do a crowdfunding page for him, but this is even better, much more private.”

  “Do you think your friends will be willing to buy me a new car?” Cece asked, her eyes lighting up. “Mine’s getting old.”

  “Not likely; it has to be a worthy cause,” Taylor said, keeping her annoyance out of her tone. Of course Cece’s first thought would be for herself.

  “I’m a worthy cause,” Cece protested.

  Taylor shrugged off the blanket and stood up. “I’m leaving for the hospital in about ten minutes. Wanna come?” she offered.

  “No thanks. I’ve got things to do here. Tell Grandma I’ll stop by and see her later.”

  “They might be discharging her to the rehab center today,” Taylor said. As far as she knew, Cece hadn’t been by the hospital at all, not since the night of the accident.

  “Oh good, I can visit her there,” Cece said unconcernedly.

  The rehab center was not far from the hospital, but Grandma still had to ride in the ambulance, the physical therapist insisted.

  “I’d be fine in the car,” Grandma insisted as the paramedics wheeled her out on a gurney. “If I can’t leave here stronger than when I came in, I should just give it up, don’t you think?”

  One of the paramedics winked at her. “It’s mainly because we need to practice,” he said with a grin. “Thanks for helping us out.”

  “Oh mercy,” Grandma rolled her eyes.

  Taylor chuckled. “We’ll meet you over there, okay?” She had the plastic bag with Grandma’s street clothes looped over her arm and a box holding more of her things balanced on her hip. She watched as the paramedics carefully loaded the gurney in the ambulance, then climbed into the backseat of her mother’s car, taking the position behind Aunt Sylvia in the passenger seat.

  “She’s looking good, isn’t she?” Her mother said as they followed behind the ambulance down windy, tree-lined streets.

  “Yeah, really good,” Aunt Sylvia agreed. “And she’s going to do much better in rehab.”

  Taylor nodded. “It’ll be so good to see her walking again.”

  Her mother bit her lip. “I read online that when an elderly person breaks a hip, it’s usually the beginning of the end though.”

  There was a heavy silence, then Aunt Sylvia sighed. “I hope that’s not the case, but she is getting up there in years.”

  “She’s doing great,” Taylor said forcefully. “We can’t worry about something that may or may not happen.” Her mother had always had a tendency to be melodramatic and sometimes it seemed like she and Aunt Sylvia brought out the worst in each other.

  “I’m just not ready to lose her,” Taylor’s mother said.

  “None of us are,” Aunt Sylvia agreed.

  “It might be easier if we could count on another generation coming up, but ..
.” Taylor’s mom let the words dangle.

  Taylor stared out the window and pretended she hadn’t heard. Of course she meant grandchildren. And if Taylor allowed it, the conversation would end up back in the same place it always did—marriage, children, and especially, Brent. Why couldn’t they see she was so much happier now than when she’d been married to him? Why couldn’t that be enough for now?

  Aunt Sylvia sighed. “I know. I don’t understand what it is with kids nowadays. When I was Cece’s age, I was already married and expecting a baby.”

  “Me too,” Taylor’s mother agreed.

  They paused, which meant they were waiting for Taylor to jump in, to take up her cause and explain ... again ... why she spent all her time flitting around the world when there were parents at home who were more than anxious to become grandparents.

  “It’ll happen,” she finally muttered. “Give us time.”

  They drove the rest of the way in silence.

  Grandma’s strength was returning and the bruises were fading, but she was still weak and pale. Getting settled in the rehab center exhausted her and by six o’clock, all she wanted to do was sleep.

  “I’ll be back in the morning,” Taylor said as she stooped to place a soft kiss on her cheek. Her mother and Aunt Sylvia had already said their goodbyes and were waiting by the door, purses in hand.

  “I’ll be here,” Grandma smiled.

  “Can I bring you anything?” Taylor asked.

  “I’d love a big gooey, chocolaty doughnut,” Grandma said.

  Taylor nodded in agreement, but stopped when Aunt Sylvia broke in. “You’d better not, Mom. You’re on a carefully monitored diet, remember?”

  Grandma sighed. “Okay, you’re right, Sylvia.” She shot Taylor a wink. “I’ll be good ... for now.”

  Lane swirled his pita chip in the artichoke mozzarella dip and checked his watch. He popped the chip in his mouth and chewed, aware that he was watching the door like a gargoyle, but unable to stop himself. Taylor must be running a little late. It was only five after, not time to panic yet.