The Secret (Billionaire's Beach Book 6)

by Christie Ridgway

  Then, carrying her own burdens, she waded back into the party, still determined to make it the best one ever.

  Finally, all that was left on the beachside terrace was Wells—asleep on a lounge chair beneath an umbrella—and Charlie and Ethan, gathering up torn wrapping paper and gift bags. Even the crash of the surf on the sand and the raucous cry of the gulls seemed like a profound silence compared to the cacophony that had been the last few minutes of the event, as parents arrived to collect their children.

  Ethan crossed to Charlie and took the wad of paper in her hand, pitching it into a half-full trash bag a few feet away.

  “Score!” she said.

  He glanced over at her, and he smiled a little, his hand reaching toward her face to cup her cheek. “I sure did. Seven years ago when my son came into my life, and a few days back, too, when you agreed to be my wife.”

  Charlie’s heart swooped toward her stomach. “I…”

  He moved closer and pulled her into his arms. “For the last years I’ve had to put on this party by myself. Having you to partner with…” Leaning down, he brushed his mouth along hers. “Thank you. You made it special. You make everything special.”

  She opened her mouth, closed it. The man was stealing her words. Her breath.

  “I called my friend Skye at Crescent Cove. Next Sunday afternoon, we can get married on the deck of Beach House No. 9.”

  Her heart stuttered.

  “The one with the magic,” Ethan continued. “Where we shared that first kiss.”

  Then he pressed his lips to her forehead, her nose, her mouth. She was dizzy with the sweetness of them. “Ethan…”

  “Will you? Will you marry me next Sunday afternoon?”

  Swallowing hard, she nodded, then, leaning into him, she offered her lips again.

  He took her up on the invitation, and the kiss spun out until their tongues were tangling and she’d wrapped her arms around his neck. He held her by the hips, his erection hard against her belly. Her nipples stiffened, and she trembled, need building inside her.

  Breaking the kiss, he pulled her head against his chest and blew out a long breath. “Keep that up, and we’ll be shocking the beachcombers, not to mention the new seven-year-old.”

  Charlie didn’t answer, just pressed her face against him, absorbing his strength and warmth. “Maybe tonight,” she murmured, and her body went all-in with the idea, the place between her thighs throbbing.

  “Tomorrow night,” Ethan countered. “You and me. By ourselves. All night long.”

  She lifted her head to look at him. “Wells—”

  “Emmaline invited him for an overnight. They’re planning to talk dog breeds, and she’s going to show him how to make those red velvet cupcakes.”

  Charlie grimaced. “I was going to confess to that. Some day.”

  His soft laugh brushed along her spine, and he slid his hands down to her bottom, tilting her hips and giving her a better feel of his thick shaft. Her panties went wet.

  He must have seen her reaction, because he let loose a low groan. “Baby. Your face.” Glancing away, he put a bit of distance between their bodies. “Tell me something to get my mind off fucking you all night long.”

  The rawness of his comment jolted through her, a sharp spear of more heat. God, she wanted this man.

  “Charlotte…” he said, low and tortured.

  “Sorry, sorry,” she answered, guessing he could see desire stamped on her face. “Um…culaccino.”

  “Wait a minute.” His eyes narrowed. “That sounds dirty.”

  She laughed. “It’s the circle left on a table by a wet glass.”

  He considered. “Okay, I feel slightly less combustible now.”

  “Good,” she stepped away from him, “as long as you can relight that fire tomorrow night.” She gave him an especially lascivious once-over, very un-serious and un-butlerlike, lingering on his crotch.

  He groaned again, then snatched her arm to drag her close once more. Instead of kissing her, though, he just stared into her eyes.

  “Age-otori,” he murmured.

  “Which means?” she asked, smiling.

  “Wait, not that one. That one’s Japanese for looking worse after a haircut.”

  She laughed. “Have you been on the internet again?”

  “Yes,” he said. “I want to impress you.” Then he touched his lips to her forehead to again. “I meant to say forelsket. It’s Norwegian—and I’m likely butchering the pronunciation.”

  “Is that a fish dish?” she guessed.

  He shook his head. “Look it up later.”

  Then he moved off toward Wells, who was coming awake after his short cat nap.

  Charlie managed to make it until night, alone in her cozy bungalow, before doing a search on the word forelsket. She expected to find it was something funny. Or maybe something a little bit filthy.

  That raw, sexual side of Ethan had come as an exciting surprise.

  Her lips were curved in anticipation as the results scrolled onto her screen. When she read the definition, she fell onto her bed, her world rocked.

  Forelsket described the giddy exhilaration one feels when beginning to fall in love.

  Did Ethan mean...

  Her head reeled and her stomach roiled too. She put her hand there, at the place where her secret had been planted and then grown.

  Surely he didn’t mean it. He’d told her he’d had his love of a lifetime—Michelle. That his marriage to Charlie would be a practical arrangement between two people with a fierce attraction to each other.

  But either way, she was beginning to realize that her lie of omission could too easily become a wedge between them—one capable of destroying the exact thing she wanted to build.

  Oh, God. Did this mean she was going to have to find a way to tell Ethan the truth?

  Chapter 10

  Ethan couldn’t believe he’d thrown out that word. Forelsket. For-fucking-elsket.

  He’d come across it on his search for foreign words that might amuse and delight his butler, and somehow it had stuck in his head.

  And for some reason he’d repeated it to her.

  He was in desperate need of alone time with his feeble brain to come up with an appropriate way to defuse the situation, but instead he was driving to a guys’-wear store, recommended by Emmaline, with his seven-year-old son.

  To buy clothes fitting for a casual beach wedding.

  During which he would enter into a marriage-of-convenience to the woman on whom he’d dropped the word forelsket. A word implying he was falling in love with her, when that just couldn’t happen.

  He’d done that years ago. Had that. Experienced the romance that inspired a million songs—and it remained unblemished and irreplaceable in his heart. Michelle was there. Always.

  But he didn’t want to go through the rest of his years alone, and he’d pledge himself to Charlie’s happiness without reservation—though it must be done with complete honesty. Tonight he’d sit her down and make sure she knew that word was a mere slip of the tongue.

  Clearing his throat, he glanced over at his son. “You’re sure you’re okay staying with Emmaline and Lucas tonight?”

  “Uh-huh. Emmaline says sometimes new couples like to have some time just to themselves.”

  “Nobody’s trying to get away from you, Wells. You know I love you, and Charlie does too.”

  A little private smile curved the corners of his son’s mouth. “She tells me I’m the best boy in the galaxy.”

  “She does, does she?” He couldn’t swallow his own smile.

  “Lucas says she’s quite a catch for us.” Wells giggled. “Like we were fishing for her. But she’s been in our house the whole time.”

  “It’s an expression. Meaning we’re lucky she said yes.” To a small boy and a man who couldn’t give her everything a woman should want.

  Shit.

  But as he pulled into the parking lot of the store, he knew he was selfish enough for himself and h
is son to go through with this and build the best life he could for the three of them. Starting tonight, with a little truthful conversation, and then on to the reward both he and Charlie had been anticipating.

  The acquiring of the proper attire turned out to be not as taxing as he’d expected. In the ways of all good graduates from the Continental Butler Academy, Emmaline had called ahead with suggestions and sizes, and the salesclerk had readied a large dressing room in advance of their arrival. Less than an hour later, he and Wells walked out with linen slacks and shirts—one blue, one ocean green—along with new casual slip-on shoes.

  Bless those butlers.

  They climbed into the Range Rover again, the goal a trip to the ice cream shop before going home to collect what Wells would need for his overnight. But as they traveled, the boy clammed up, a state so unusual that once Ethan parked, he turned to his son in the backseat before exiting the car.

  “Hey, pal, is something the matter?” he asked. “Are you confused about anything? Remember I said you can ask questions. Of course, you can talk to me about whatever’s on your mind, but is it the wedding, or…”

  Christ, he was starting to babble to fill up the silence. Had the reality of the new marriage finally set in, and the boy was now going to balk?

  “I don’t remember Mom,” Wells suddenly said. “I can’t remember her face unless I’m looking at a picture. I don’t know the sound of her voice.”

  “Oh, Wells,” Ethan said, his chest aching. “I’m sorry.”

  He shot a quick glance at his father. “Are you mad?”

  “Of course I’m not mad. You were only two years old when she left us. People don’t remember much about being two.”

  “I think I used to remember. I think I used to remember her singing me songs.”

  “She did.” Ethan smiled. “She made up songs about you getting your pajamas on and another one about a teddy bear you used to have.”

  “Charlie taught me a song about math facts.” Wells stared down at his lap. “She leaves me notes in my lunch.”

  “I wasn’t aware of that.”

  “They say stuff like, ‘I know you’ll ace the spelling test’ and ‘I can’t wait until we play cornhole on the beach this afternoon.’”

  Oh, God. Ethan saw where this was going. “She thinks you’re the best boy in the galaxy.”

  Wells nodded, then darted him another quick look. “I think she’s the best butler in the universe.”

  “That’s great. Mom would be so happy that you have someone in your life who cares for you so much.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.” Stretching across the back of his seat, he managed to ruffle his son’s hair. “She’d be happy that you have someone you care about so much too.”

  “I…I almost care about her like a mom.”

  Ethan had to take a steadying breath. “Maybe you care about her just like a mom.”

  And with those simple yet profound words, the crisis seemed to be over. Wells slid from his booster seat and jumped out of the car, boisterous boy once again. Smiling at the sudden shift in mood, Ethan followed him into the ice cream shop.

  “Don’t tell Charlie,” Wells said. “Because I’m already getting cupcakes for dessert tonight.”

  “We can work our way around her,” Ethan promised.

  They sat at a small marble-topped table with their one-scoop sundaes, hoping to avoid any telltale ice cream stains on their clothes, sure to tip off the butler about their unsanctioned indulgence. Rather than be mad at them, Ethan mused, she’d more likely be sad she’d missed out on the treat, and he was considering bringing home some hand-packed pints when a man carrying a white bag came to stop in front of them on his way out the door.

  “Ethan!”

  He stood, shaking hands with Steve McDonald, the man who’d run the grief group and whom he’d encountered at the elementary school a short while back. “Great to see you.”

  The older man looked down at Wells. “And is this your son?”

  “Yes. This is Wells.”

  Steve hunkered down, held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, young man. What are you up to?”

  “It was my birthday,” Wells said, “yesterday. Oh, and my mom died.”

  Rising, the man glanced at Ethan. “I know that. And I’m sorry about it.”

  “But Dad and I are getting married again.” Wells was fishing for the cherry swimming in the soupy remains of his sundae.

  “Is that right?”

  “We…her name is Charlie,” Ethan said. “She’s been working for me and…” He shrugged, then without thinking, withdrew his wallet. Inside, shielded by a plastic sleeve, was a photo of the butler and Wells, standing on the beach and mugging for the camera. A breeze had snatched at Charlie’s hair and it flew wildly around her face. Her eyes shone as blue as the ocean behind her. Showing it to his old friend, he remembered snitching it from a pile that Sara had brought over one day.

  Long before he’d asked Charlie to marry him.

  “I’m so pleased for you, Ethan,” Steve said, beaming. “I always hoped I might fall in love again after Linda died, but it didn’t happen.”

  “That’s not…it isn’t…” Ethan glanced down at his son, still intent on the remains of his ice cream. “Nothing has moved Michelle from my heart,” he said, in a low tone. For those few months he’d attended the grief group, the two widowers had shared personal confidences, and he didn’t want to mislead the man now. “She was the love of my lifetime.”

  “The love of that lifetime,” Steve said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Seems like you’re beginning a new one now, right?”

  Upon his and Wells’ return to the house, they found it empty of Charlie and that her car was missing from the garage. Apparently busy on some errand of her own, he decided, but he found she’d packed a small bag for Wells as well as the boy’s school backpack for the next day. A note sat on top. Be good for Emmaline and Lucas. Pay attention to how to bake those cupcakes. I’ll miss you. It was signed BTTBBITG.

  Wells pointed to it, grinning. “Butler to the Best Boy in the Galaxy.”

  Ethan had to grin too. That woman. Definitely a catch.

  Wells skipped along the sand as they traveled northward to the house where Emmaline and Lucas lived. They found the couple inside and eager for their evening with Wells. A few minutes later, Sara and Joaquin arrived as well. Apparently they were planning to hang out, read up on dog breeds, and gorge on cupcakes.

  “After a very healthy dinner with fruits, vegetables, grains, and proteins,” Emmaline assured Ethan piously.

  “Then I’m collecting Wells in the morning to get him to school on time,” Sara said. “You and Charlie are free to sleep in…or whatever.”

  He didn’t let his mind drift into “whatever” territory. Not yet.

  Wells got interested in an old-school Operation game that Lucas had uncovered from somewhere, and he and Emmaline and Joaquin started fooling around with it, hooting and hollering over who was the worst surgeon. Sara wandered onto the back deck, seeming to contemplate the surf, and looking at her gave Ethan a guilty pinch.

  He joined her at the railing. “Hey, I should have told you. A while back I took one of your photos. From that handful you brought over to the house.”

  With an odd reluctance, he withdrew his wallet from his pocket and flashed it for her. She grabbed the leather before he could put it away and inspected the picture.

  “I like it,” she said, smiling. “Very this summer.”

  He took the wallet back, hoping he didn’t seem to snatch it from her.

  She smiled at him. “Make my friend happy, will you?”

  Shit. Now he felt like a thief and a fraud. “It’s not exactly like you think it is.”

  Her smile was serene, even as one brow lifted. “You don’t believe in love?”

  “I absolutely believe in love. I already had that. It’s great. Beyond everything. You’ll enjoy it with Joaquin as will Emmaline with Lucas.”


  “What about having it again?”

  Such a tempting thought, that it might be so simple. “Seriously, Sara, my heart is full. My first wife, Wells…”

  “What if you and Charlie have children? Would you find room for them there?”

  He blinked. “Of course. But that’s different.”

  She seemed to consider this. “I don’t know why. A heart hasn’t any boundaries.”

  Frustrated by his lack of a better explanation, he gazed through the open doorway toward his son. Wells stood between Emmaline and Lucas, but the man had his hand on his fiancée’s nape, the gesture both possessive and protective. She smiled up at him, the picture of contentment.

  “Get your elbows out,” Sara said now, demonstrating. “Make a little room in there.”

  He was prevented from having to find some adequate reply because Joaquin was bearing down on them, his warm gaze fixed on his wife’s face. Like he couldn’t bear to be parted from her.

  God, he remembered that, he thought, and bitterness began welling inside him. They were all so fucking happy. So in love. And damn it all, Charlie deserved that.

  Pain throbbed at his temples.

  He’d found that feeling, lost it…never to be had again. Or…

  Make a little room in there.

  The love of that lifetime. Seems like you’re beginning a new one.

  Sara and Joaquin were murmuring to each other, and he stepped away, giving them space. Then he retrieved his wallet again, opened it to that picture.

  Beautiful Charlie with her bright blue eyes. With her secrets and her willingness to enter into a practical marriage.

  His boy, grinning up at her, all Best Boy in the Galaxy.

  That didn’t seem a very practical thing to call one’s charge, Ethan thought. BTTBBITG didn’t seem like a very practical moniker for oneself, either.

  It made him smile, that she didn’t have any clue about that. The pain in his head receded.

  Then Ethan wiggled his elbows a little, metaphorically of course, experimentally, but he attempted to see if he could make some room without lessening the space for what had come before. For that marvelous thing he’d had that he might have lost from his life, but didn’t want to lose from his heart.