Billionaire Mountain Man

by Claire Adams

  "Bet you regret handing me over to Brett now."

  "No. You've been different since coming back."

  "Yeah? How? Besides being swamped?"

  "I don't know, more settled, I guess. Like there's a reason now, and you know why you're here. Why you're doing all of this."

  "I'm glad it looks that way," he said with a small smile.

  "The company's back on its feet, made a full recovery, and most likely going to exceed revenue records this year."

  "I can't take credit for all that. I'm just doing my job."

  "Well, you're good at it. Nothing wrong with being proud of that."

  He shrugged. "I just want to do my best, make the most of everything, you know? My parents left this all to me; I want to make them proud. So that if they could ever see me again, they'd know they made the right decisions." I smiled.

  "I think you're doing great."

  "Thank you. I think you are too," he said.

  "What? How?" I asked, taking his empty plate from in front of him with mine over to the sink.

  "Because you're patient," he said, coming up behind me. "I know it's not fun canceling dates because of me." He wrapped his hands around my waist, hugging me to his chest.

  "I understand. You have other commitments."

  "It won't always be like this," he said. Yeah, they were still in a kind of transitory period, which meant a lot more direct involvement from him.

  "It's okay," I reassured him. He held me tight to his body, kissing my temple.

  "Thank you. You..." he trailed off. His hands were wrapped around me. "You're naked under this robe." His hand came up and pulled one side of my robe down, almost far enough to expose my breast.

  "You got rid of my clothes last night, remember?" I said. He smoothly undid the sash around my waist and ran his hands over my skin, cupping my breasts.

  "Mm," he said, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. I turned the water off and turned my head to kiss him. He pulled my robe down off my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. The fact that he'd been down here in his underwear told me we had the house to ourselves. Gina, his housekeeper, usually got weekends off. There was no danger of her walking in and seeing us.

  One of his hands tweaked my nipple, while the other slid down between my legs to my clit. I sighed, clutching the edge of the sink as he touched me.

  "Aren’t you going to be late?" I asked dreamily.

  "We have all morning, babe," he said, his hands leaving my body briefly before holding me by the hip as he ran the engorged head of his dick against my folds. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the sink's ledge and offering my rump to him. He entered me in one smooth thrust. My eyes fluttered shut as he rocked steadily in and out of me, grasping my hips to control our speed. He leaned his chest against my back, reaching back between my legs to touch me as we fucked.

  I loved him feral and needy like this. It would cut through his now structured life, the side of himself that he saved for me. I cried out, shuddering as I came. He went harder, thrusting faster into me, cursing as I felt his release coating my walls. He kissed my shoulder and the back of my neck as he carefully withdrew. I turned to face him, and he kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pressing our bodies together.

  "What?" he asked, as I cupped his face, running my thumb over his stubbled jaw. He hadn't shaved yet.

  "I love you, Cameron," I said. I had never said it to him before. I had wanted to but never felt like I should have. Like I should wait longer before letting him know, not be in such a hurry and whatnot. He swallowed looking down at me.

  "I love you too, babe," he said, kissing me again. No, we didn't have the whole day together, but there was tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that. There were enough small close moments like this that made it worth it. Our timing from the start had been kind of off, but it had worked out. It was enough. Knowing I had him was enough.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Cameron

  One Year Later

  “They couldn’t wait ‘til fucking July to do this?”

  “It’s not too late to skip, you know,” Natalie said, walking into the closet. I saw her reflection in the mirror I was looking into, buttoning my shirt up.

  “Fuck it, we’re staying home,” I said. I saw her pull a dress from her side of the closet.

  “I mean, sure, I guess they could get another guest of honor last minute.”

  “Wear the red one,” I said turning to look at her. She had done her hair and makeup already and was trying to pick between two dresses. The red one I had gotten her and the other one, teal, she saved for occasions like this.

  “Because you got it for me?”

  "You're my date. I actually have to be seen in public with you," I joked.

  "You know what? They probably should find a replacement guest of honor last minute," she sniped playfully, taking the red dress off its hanger. It was a floor length gown with long sleeves and no back, the kind of red that looked like it would burn you if you touched it. The contrast between her pale skin and light hair was beautiful. She had taken preparing for today a lot more seriously than I had, having picked the dress weeks ago. She'd look beautiful whatever she wore; I just wasn't looking forward to sitting through the ceremony.

  These banquets happened every year, sometimes twice a year, and usually, they weren't around this time of the year. This one was special, I guess; at least it was out of the ordinary. It was the first since my father had died. Since my parents’ passing, Porter Holdings had dedicated a number of public buildings to them: libraries, community centers, shelters. That was a good thing to do if you wanted people to call you a good person. That wasn't something I wanted, more something that was happening whether I liked it or not.

  The last year had been a ride, at times not the best but I'd made it out alive on the other side. Several months ago, it had been the first anniversary of my parents' death. I had been dreading the day as it had gotten closer and closer, but it had come and gone just like any other day in the end. I didn't know what I had thought would happen because nothing did. It was Natalie who convinced me in the end to visit their graves; I still didn't know what I felt about doing that. I didn't know whether there was one right way to feel about your parents dying. That was kind of the way it was supposed to go, right? Nobody wanted to bury their own kids, but that didn't mean it was necessarily easy the other way around.

  It had been a ride, but I had Natalie there with me. She... she was my family now. We had moved in together finally, choosing to just wait out the rest of the lease that she’d had on her last place in Provo, and well, things had never been better. We were doing great; the company was doing great; there was going to be champagne on tap all night tonight, so things were looking up.

  I headed downstairs to wait for Natalie, and when she was ready, we left. We got a driver so I could sit in the back with her. Tonight was kind of a big deal, but not really for the reasons that she was thinking. I would have skipped it entirely if that hadn’t been on the table, but with some luck, this night would make itself worth the effort of coming out.

  The venue was right on Utah Lake. It took us a little under an hour to get there. It was an event hall that was routinely booked for weddings and other parties. For our event, the hall was decked out in black and white decorations. Tables dotted the wide space with seven place settings each. I hoped we ended up somewhere good.

  Natalie had had to attend fewer of these than me, but she was good at meeting people and making them think she really cared about their conversation. That or she just really enjoyed business events, and I was the grump. Whatever it was, having her near me through the night made it bearable. I lost her once or twice when investors and past collaborators pulled me aside to speak to me, but I never saw her hunched over in a corner anywhere, looking like she needed rescuing.

  After came the speeches. Everyone sat and pretended to listen, applauding at intervals. I got uncomfortable when people blew smo
ke up my ass, and Natalie could tell. She reached for my hand under the table, holding it. After my short address, the speeches that followed felt like they got longer and longer. A lot of them talked about my parents, which I appreciated. I would never forget their passing, but I had mostly come to terms with it. It was nice knowing that they had affected as many people in their lives while they had still been here. Something to aspire to, which I was happy to have. The meal was next, and by that point, I was restless.

  "Come with me," I said to Natalie, taking her hand and helping her up. She looked surprised but politely excused both of us from our table. The hall opened on one side through sliding doors to a manicured lawn where events sometimes spilled out onto. There was a short pier out over the shores of the lake. Since people had weddings at the venue a lot, there were lights everywhere; these rustic-looking lanterns were up and down the pier, hanging from the trees, and along the outside of the building. Snow from the last light fall sprinkled the green lawn with white.

  "It's gorgeous out here," she said. It was beautiful, if a little cold. It is perfect, the thought suddenly hit me. I had slid the ring into my jacket's inner pocket while she had been in the closet getting dressed. She had no idea that I had it. If she did, then she was nice enough not to let me know that she did.

  "It is."

  "Are you alright?"

  "What?" I asked, clearing my throat. She looked up at me, tilting her head to the side a little.

  "Was it too much in there? Did you need a minute?"

  "O-oh," I stammered. "No, nothing like that." Fuck, I thought. I had walked myself through this a million times already, thought about what I was going to tell her. Now was the perfect time. If I choked, no, fuck that. I wanted this. I wanted to ask her. I was going to.

  Epilogue

  Natalie

  "You look amazing tonight, baby," he said.

  "Thank you, Cameron; so do you," I said. He was in a tux, officially my favorite thing that I had ever seen him in. He wore it like he had been born to. Looked every bit the CEO and owner of Porter Holdings that he was. My arm was linked in his, and we were walking across the lawn towards the pier. He checked the time on his watch.

  "We should probably head back," he muttered to himself.

  "Are you sure you’re alright, Cameron?" I asked him for the second time since we had come out of the hall.

  "Fine," he said, in a tone that people used when they weren't actually fine, just wanted you to think they were. He checked his watch again and jammed his hand in his pocket, then promptly took it out again. I let it go. He'd tell me when he was ready. He was like that: needed time with his issues alone before he ever looked for help. I couldn't imagine what it was though. Tonight was amazing. We were outside, and it was beautiful. He was being honored for his good work, and I was two flutes of champagne deep on an empty stomach, so everything was great. We stepped onto the pier and started walking its length. Lanterns hung on both sides, making it a moody, romantic walk. I understood why people had their weddings here.

  "Natalie," he said abruptly, snapping me out of my reverie.

  "What is it?"

  "My mother used to ride me hard as hell about never really bringing anyone home to meet them. I hadn't really thought it was that serious since I hadn't been in a hurry. The morning they died, we had all been having breakfast together. She had been teasing my dad about how he needed to become a grandfather since he already looked like one." I squeezed his arm. The anniversary of their deaths had just passed. I hoped that wasn't what was bothering him.

  "I know you miss them."

  "It's all these things they'll never see, you know?" he said, stopping. We had gotten to the edge of the pier. Beyond was the inky black, still water. "Like this. They'll never get to meet you."

  "I know. I wish it were different too," I said. He turned to face me, taking my hands.

  "I know they would have loved you."

  I nodded, smiling at the compliment. I had always admired Grayson Porter. Knowing him in the capacity of being his son's girlfriend would have been nice.

  "I always used to wonder looking at them whether I would ever... shit, whether it was even possible anymore to find a person who I could love as much as they loved each other. I hadn't thought it ever would be for me, but I was wrong." He paused and looked down. "When my dad met my mother, he said he fell in love with her at first sight. He tried to ask her out, but she turned him down. He said he had been ready to propose after their first date but waited a year to be polite." He opened his jacket and reached inside. My breath caught in my throat when I saw the navy-blue velvet-covered box. I felt my heart pounding in my ears as he lowered himself on one knee to the ground.

  "I love you, Natalie. I thought I had lost my family, but I hadn't. I had you, and I don't want to go back to a time that I didn't. We could go back in there and have dinner then go home, or you could agree to marry me first." He opened up the box and a princess-cut, white-diamond engagement ring looked up at me. "Natalie?" I looked at him, struggling to make him out through the tears in my eyes. "Will you marry me?"

  "Oh my god," I said.

  "What was that?"

  "Yes, Cameron, I will," I said, laughing through my tears. He stood and slid the ring onto my hand. It was blinding. The most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I threw my arms around him, almost delirious from my own joy. He kissed me, and we could have been anywhere in the world; it didn't matter. All I felt was him.

  "I think we need to go back," he said, wiping my tear-streaked cheek for me. My makeup was probably in ruins. I looked up at the building then down at our clasped hands, my new ring twinkling up at us.

  "Not yet," I said, kissing him again. He was mine now; it was official. They could have him back, just not yet.

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  EXPERTISE

  By Claire Adams

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2017 Claire Adams

  Chapter One

  James

  My head pounded. I cracked an eye open and barely managed to suppress a groan. It was bright out, and I hadn’t drawn the curtains. The evil elves that lived in the rays of sunshine pouring through the windows attacked my eyeballs with ice picks. Miserable bastards.

  The inside of my mouth tasted like the floor mat behind a bar at the end of the night. It was more like two somethings had crawled into my mouth and died. I was pretty fucking sure they’d waged World War 3 in there and then had make-up sex before they died.

  At least I knew where I was. Ryder’s house. My crazy ass wide receiver never failed to host a mind eraser of a party. Last night’s party was no exception. I barely remembered what happened the night before, but at least I hadn’t woken up on a cruise ship again, like I had last year on the Monday after the Super Bowl.

  If there was one thing I could always count on Ryder for, it was a crazy story. On or off the field. Last February, one second I remembered being at Ryder’s party at his place in Miami, and the next, I was downing tequila shots at 10 a.m. with a fucking sombrero on my head. On a private cruise ship. The owner of which was no longer a fan of his friendly neighborhood Miami Dolphins.

  I’d been told that the team’s wide receiver talking the man’s daughter into taking us out on a joyride on daddy’s boat, and the QB hooking up with said daughter, were contributing factors to our loss of that particular fan. Amongst a couple of other things.

  At least this y
ear, I’d managed to stay in Miami and on dry land. I chalked it up as a win.

  After I established my whereabouts, I had to face the next problem. Two passed-out women lay on either side of me in Ryder’s guest bed. My 14-year-old self would roundhouse kick me in the balls to learn that a short 10 years later, it was considered a problem to have two naked girls passed out next to me.

  Careful not to jostle the bed, I extricated myself from the pile of human limbs I was tangled up in and tugged on my jeans without waking either of the sleeping beauties.

  Ryder’s front door was in sight in no time. I could practically taste freedom without the inconvenience of awkward morning-after goodbyes or a hopeful “call me.” Ryder’s voice interrupted my jailbreak.

  “James!” he hollered from his kitchen. “I got a mean fucking hangover, man. Wanna share it with me?”

  I headed to the kitchen, losing sight of my escape route. “Don’t you always say that you have to appreciate the hangover because you paid a ton of money to have it?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “If I recall correctly though, you called bullshit on that little nugget of wisdom. Told me that while the hangover was a necessary evil, you sure as shit didn’t have to appreciate it.” He ran his hand through his jet black dreadlocks and winked at me. “You going soft on me in your old age, pulling that crap out on me now?”

  “I’m three years younger than you, dipshit. Unless you’re calling yourself ancient at 27.” I knew which buttons to push when I wanted to. Ryder was my best friend. We’d met in college and hadn’t lost touch since. “Anyway, my misery doesn’t love company today, man. You’re going to have to face it on your own.”

  “Come on, man; you’re my quarterback. If we can’t play in the Super Bowl, the least we could do is drown our sorrows together.” Ryder tried to pout but failed miserably in his attempt.

  “Didn’t we do that last night? And we wouldn’t have sorrows to drown if we’d been playing in the big game instead of just fucking watching it.” My complaint came out harsher than I’d intended. “That should’ve been us.”