Dating Disaster with a Billionaire (Blue Ridge Mountain Billionaires, #1)

by Lynx, Elizabeth

  Coleman had to deal with that all his life. Now it made sense why he didn’t really have many friends, except for my brother.

  “If your friend wants to enter the contest, there’s nothing I can do about that. If I promised she wouldn’t win, that would be just as bad as me promising she would win. I could find a different billionaire. Maybe your VidTube friend, Steele Carson, could do it. The guy who stayed here right before we opened and rated it on his channel. He’s got money and then some with his family.”

  The corner of my mouth curved. That was a great idea. Steele came from money like Coleman. And like Coleman, he wanted nothing to do with his family.

  I nodded, but the more I thought about Steele and his boy-next-door looks, the more I wondered if it wasn’t a good idea at all. What if Marika liked him a little too much?

  “Perfect. We found the solution. If your girlfriend wins, then she’ll go on a date with Steele and not you.”

  “Yes, perfect,” I said through gritted teeth.

  Chapter 5

  MARIKA

  “I’m wearing my lucky press-on nails.” Susannah held up her fingers.

  Squinting, I inspected her fingertips. “Are those penises?”

  She jerked her head back and gasped. “No! It’s the number one. As in, you will be number one for this contest!”

  “What contest?” My dad came out from the kitchen to the living room, a plate of pita bread triangles surrounding a bowl of his homemade crab dip.

  “Dad, let me help you.” I jumped forward to grab the teetering plate before it fell from the top of the basket of his walker.

  “The Win a Date with a Billionaire contest. Marika entered.”

  I cringed as I placed the dip on the old square coffee table, worried how my father would react. He was more of the old-fashioned type. He always warned me about guys when I was a teenager. He told me how important it was to never settle for less than I deserve. One day, out of the blue, he blurted out that I should never put out on a first date. No matter how much I scrubbed my ears in the shower later that day, I couldn’t get his advice out of my head.

  I think he worried I might end up like Mom—making rash decisions, only to regret them later.

  His eyes widened as he sat down on his chair. He loved his typical reclining man-chair. It was big, brown, and looked worn despite only being a year old.

  “A billionaire! A marvelous idea. Only the best for my daughter.”

  “I never realized your expectations for who I dated involved men with money. All these years, I thought you wanted me to date an amiable guy, someone who treated me well. Good to know a fat paycheck in his pocket was your only criteria,” I said, thick with sarcasm.

  The corner of my dad’s mouth lifted. “Not my only criteria, but look at us, Marika. It’s not like we live in a fancy penthouse in Times Square.”

  My dad had never visited New York City and thought Times Square was where the rich people lived. Before I could correct him, he went on, “I’m not saying you winning a contest and going on a date with the billionaire will end in marriage, but it would be nice exposure for the Hard Grind.”

  I had to agree with him on that.

  “I suspect you want to take a few pictures of me to post on your ISnapIt account and talk about the contest?”

  He held up a finger. “It’s Bernard’s account. If he agrees that it’s okay to post pictures of you, then I’ll do it. Bernard?” My mouth fell open as he called out for our dog.

  The floor shook as Bernard pranced like a show pony into the room. I stared as my father explained to our dog about the contest, finally asking if it would be okay to post a picture of me on the account.

  I glanced over at Susannah to see if she was shocked, but she was happily munching on my dad’s crab dip as if this was normal behavior for a grown man.

  “Dad! He’s a dog.”

  My father threw me a look of disappointment. Somehow, I had shamed him and Bernard. Even the dog shook his head.

  “Am I the only sane one here? He’s a dog . . . He doesn’t understand English or any human language.”

  “Okay, Miss Smarty-Pants, then why does he come when I call his name?”

  “Because he associates that sound with you wanting to see him.”

  “And when I tell him ‘pose for the camera,’ he does exactly what I want.”

  Both Dad and the dog glared at me.

  “Fine.” I gave up this fight, clearly outnumbered. “Bernard understands. Then what does he think about talking up the contest?”

  My father pursed his lips together and shrugged.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Well?”

  I couldn’t believe I upset my father with this. The man may have been grumpy, but he was also a bit of a diva. God forbid I explain the reality of dogs to him.

  “He thinks it’s a marvelous idea. But we’re still taking a picture of him. He doesn’t want to use your photo.”

  “This is how far I’ve sunk in my life,” I mumbled.

  “What?” My dad leaned closer, cupping his ear. “You know I haven’t heard great in my right ear after the bike accident.”

  Who could forget about the great bike accident from a year ago? After hanging out with some of his high school buddies at the only bar in town, Castle Moat, he thought it was a wise idea not to drink and drive. Which was a smart decision, but he had my old bike from when I was a kid in his truck and rode it home. I never received a full explanation as to why he had my old bike to begin with, but I gave up a long time ago. He said it was a last-minute drunk decision to use the bike, but I had always wondered if he planned it and was too embarrassed to admit.

  “Great, now that we cleared the contest idea up, we can—” I was about to get up and head to the kitchen to check on the roast chicken for dinner when Susannah paused her intake of dip.

  “That’s only the beginning. We need to post it to Hard Grind’s ISnapIt account. Maybe we should have a Billionaire Date special.”

  “It’s not like I’ve won yet. I’ve only been accepted as a contestant.” I got the email this morning. I sent in the form two days ago and was surprised to hear back so quickly. “I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Actually, I think we should keep it on the down low.”

  I remembered how badly James reacted when I told him. He kept trying to talk me out of the contest and said some terrible things about The Blue Spot’s owner. Some guy named Rock.

  I worried that Rock was the billionaire for the contest.

  The doorbell rang, and I hopped up.

  “Let’s not talk about the contest. James is here.”

  Because of my guilt about the contest, I had invited him over to my dad’s Sunday dinner. Usually it was only us and Susannah, but I thought he might like a home-cooked meal. He never mentioned his parents, and I didn’t want to pry, but I wondered if he ever saw them. Perhaps they had a falling out.

  “Is he the billionaire?” my dad asked.

  I laughed as I headed to the front door. “Good one, Dad. He’s my friend, so be nice.”

  When I opened the door, my words caught in my throat. James was wearing a suit, and it looked amazing on him. Drool-worthy amazing. I had never seen a suit look that good on a man.

  It was light blue with no tie and a pale yellow shirt with the top button undone. I kept staring at it, hoping all the buttons would magically pop open if I looked at them long enough.

  With a crooked grin, he held up the bottle of wine. “I hope I’m not late.” I watched a bead of sweat meander its way down his brow and made a fist so I wouldn’t reach over to trace the line with my finger.

  “What?” I asked, focusing more on his lips than what was actually coming out of his mouth.

  “Late? I’m not late, am I?”

  “Oh, uh, no. I just served the crab dip.” I gasped and asked, “I hope you aren’t allergic to seafood. I forgot to ask.”

  “No, just everything else. Bread, all meat, vegetables, fruit . . ..” />
  My eyes widened.

  He grinned. “I’m kidding. No, I don’t have any allergies.”

  We stood there for a moment as I struggled not to glance down at his chest, where I noticed the bead of sweat had disappeared to under his shirt.

  “Are we having dinner outside?”

  Confused, I shook my head. “No, why would we eat outside? It’s rather humid here in August. Even in the evening. And all the bugs—”

  “He’s being polite, Marika,” my father yelled from the family room. “Let the boy inside!”

  My face felt fiery. With a nervous giggle, I stepped back and waved James inside. “Right, sorry. Please, come in. We’re all in there.” I pointed behind me.

  I took the wine from him as he stepped inside and shut the door. Once we were in the family room, I introduced James to my dad.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  My father got up and shook his hand.

  “I’ve heard a lot of splendid things about you,” James added with a smile.

  “Funny, because I haven’t heard Marika mention you at all. Was rather surprised she invited you to dinner.”

  Ugh. My father wasn’t being rude, just brutally honest. It was his thing. He believed if people couldn’t handle the truth, then they weren’t worth knowing.

  James’s smile faltered.

  “That’s not true, Dad. I mentioned his love of our coffee.”

  “Today. You mentioned that to me today. Well, you’re here, James; you might as well have a seat. Try my crab dip . . . Jesus, Susannah, did you eat the entire thing?”

  Susannah’s hand that held a slice of pita, topped with dip, stopped mid-rise to her mouth. “Uh, I think there’s some left.” She held out the pita she was about to eat to James, but he waved it away.

  “As delicious as that looks, I’ll save some room for dinner.”

  We all stared at Susannah, who shrugged and popped the food into her mouth.

  We kept glaring at her when she mumbled with a full mouth, “What? It’s too good to sit around and not be eaten.”

  Thankfully, the timer on the oven went off, signaling the chicken was ready. I told everyone to take a seat in the dining room.

  James offered to help and followed me into my rather small, square kitchen.

  “It smells wonderful,” he said and rubbed the back of his neck.

  I bit my lip, wondering if I should tell him about being accepted into the contest.

  “We’re having roast chicken, roasted potatoes with rosemary, and a berry salad.”

  “Wow. You made all that?”

  “My dad made the sides, but I roasted the chicken.”

  He stepped closer, his eyes darkening. My unease quickly faded into something much hotter. I pushed my thighs together after backing up against the brown linoleum counter.

  “I bet your thighs will be nice and juicy.”

  Imagining what he’d taste like, my mouth watered. “Yes, I use a special rub all over to bring out the flavor.”

  His brow rose, along with the corner of his mouth. “I bet it’s finger-licking good.” James took another step forward until he had pinned me to the counter.

  He lowered his head to my neck. I shuddered from his hot breath as it tickled my shoulder. “Just to make sure I’m not confused, we’re talking about your thighs, not the chicken anymore . . . right?”

  I was talking about the chicken, but now that I thought about it, his way was much sexier. Why had I never flirted with him before?

  He didn’t come into Hard Grind often, but when he did, I only ever spoke about the coffee and the weather—all the boring things acquaintances discuss.

  “Yes. My seasoned thighs.”

  I cringed. Flirting had never been my strong point. Just about anything to do with guys wasn’t my strong point. Dating. Flirting. It had been so long since I had sex, I was wondering if I was bad at that too.

  Not that I didn’t go all out with sex toys. When a woman never knew when she might get laid, she had to invest in the best toys.

  He chuckled and lifted a finger to my neck, trailing it around the seam of my short-sleeve floral blouse. “I like you, Marika.”

  That was the sexiest way a man had ever told me how he felt. The rumble from his voice went all the way down to my toes.

  I wanted to say something just as sexy, but that’s not what happened. My voice betrayed me and ruined the moment because I just wasn’t good with men.

  Some things would never happen for me. And getting any guy to fall for me was one of them.

  “I made it in the contest,” I blurted rather loudly in his ear.

  James reared back.

  Instead of apologizing and explaining myself, I made everything worse by opening my mouth again.

  “I might win a date with a billionaire!”

  I smiled and shook my fists as if excited, trying to make this epic fail less epic. But James wasn’t smiling. He was frowning. I hadn’t even gotten to first base with James, and it was already a disaster.

  Chapter 6

  JAMES

  Steele threw his arms wide as he walked into my makeshift office. “I’m here and ready to take up the hardship of dating a beautiful woman.”

  It was the conference room at The Blue Spot. Rock had never made an office for me since I originally told him I was only interested in contributing financially, nothing more.

  It looked like a typical conference room—long with beige walls and a rectangular, wooden table in the middle, surrounded by chairs.

  I sat at the end with a laptop, trying to record my latest video for Joke’in James. No matter how many takes I made, each one felt worse than the one prior. My heart just wasn’t in it.

  My thoughts kept drifting back to Marika’s kitchen and that almost-kiss before her excitement about the contest. That was three days ago, and I hadn’t seen her since.

  I didn’t run out on her. I stayed and ate her delicious chicken. But things remained awkward during the rest of the evening. Not at all helped by her dog’s farting. It got so bad that Susannah and me both made excuses to leave. At least mine wasn’t as ridiculous as hers. It surprised me that Marika believed Susannah had to soak her nails and then put on her face before bed, whatever that meant.

  I gave up on my video and closed my laptop.

  “Oh, the contest. That’s today?”

  I pretended to forget but really hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Marika was coming here to The Blue Spot. I told Coleman I wanted no part of the contest, not even as a judge. But now I worried.

  Worried she’d see me. Nervous that she would win. And when she explained over dinner how the money would help the café, I was nervous that she wouldn’t win.

  I couldn’t decide. Maybe I could pretend to be a rich, long-lost uncle who died and send her the money through an inheritance she didn’t know about.

  “What’s wrong?” Steele asked.

  Looking up, I forgot he was there.

  “Oh, nothing, just having trouble making my video.”

  “Why don’t you film this?” He waved his hand around the room.

  I stared at his thick head of platinum blond hair and wondered aloud, “That’s it. You’re the joke. Or perhaps Marika.” I rubbed my chin as the plan formulated in my head.

  “I’m the joke?”

  I shook my head and ran over to my friend.

  “I can film the entire thing. Make it look like a prank. That way she doesn’t have to date you.”

  Steele’s brow creased. “I’m confused.”

  “Yeah, me too.” My brother Monty entered the room.

  “Hey, it’s been a while.”

  My brother shut the door behind him and came over to me with outstretched arms. After a quick hug, I pulled away and asked, “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m a judge.”

  I realized my idea for a prank video wasn’t great. Once Marika saw me with both my brothers, both of whom had the last name Diaz, sh
e’d know.

  Perhaps I should go back to my idea of trying to catch her before she goes inside the contest area and talk her out of it.

  “That’s great.” I smiled.

  “What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” Monty asked while looking over my body.

  My jaw clenched as I said, “No, just happy to have all my brothers under one roof.”

  The door opened again, and in walked Rock with Coleman right behind him.

  “Where is the contest being held?” I asked as I felt my heart beat faster.

  “In here. The ten contestants are right out in the hallway.”

  Oh no. If I walk out the door, Marika will see me. She must have already noticed both my brothers.

  “I met all of them. They all seem nice. No crazies, huh, Steele?” Rock said with a chuckle.

  Everyone laughed but me.

  “I should probably leave.” I grabbed my laptop and headed to the door but stopped right before opening it.

  “I thought you were leaving?” Monty came up behind me.

  I glanced back. All the guys were talking. No one was paying any attention to me, except for Monty. He was the nice brother—always in tune with what people were thinking and feeling. I could always confide in him. Rock . . . not so much.

  I rubbed my neck and pulled Monty to the corner.

  “If I tell you something, you promise you won’t tell anyone else?”

  He nodded.

  I took a deep breath and then just let it out. “One contestant is named Marika. I like her. Really like her. And I think she likes me, but then she entered this before I put the moves on her, and now, she might win and go out with Steele.”

  He shrugged. “The date won’t mean anything. I’m sure most of these women entered the contest to win the cash prize, not a dinner with a stranger.”

  “That’s not really the problem. I mean, I don’t like that she might go out with him, and now that I think about it, Steele is a bit of a flirt, has a lot of women tell him he’s good-looking, and is looking forward to this contest a little too much.”