The Lucky Billionaire (Destination Billionaire Romance)

by Lewis, Jeanette

  She gave a surprised little blink. Her face fell and Ty’s heart plummeted right along with it. Of course she had a boyfriend. He should have known.

  Holland gripped the fence. “I thought I did,” she finally said. “But no, I don’t.”

  Hope thumped in his chest and peppered his brain with questions. “How do you only think you have a boyfriend and not know for sure?” he asked, dreading the answer. “This isn’t one of those weird online dating things, is it?”

  She laughed lightly. “No. I was seeing a guy in LA, but it wasn’t serious.”

  “Was? So you’re not . . . he’s not waiting for you to get back?”

  “I don’t know.” Holland kept her eyes on the sheep. “He left before I did for a summer trip. Who knows what will happen when I finally see him again.”

  “But you care about him?”

  “Yes. But I . . . I’m not sure what to think anymore.”

  Ty took a shaky breath. It was better than he’d dared to hope. He placed his palm over hers, marveling at how small and delicate her hand felt.

  She hesitated for a moment before interlocking her hand with his. Her fingers were cold, the skin smooth as silk.

  “Thanks for being here,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve really needed your help.”

  “You’re doing okay once we got you fixed up a little,” Holland said, a smile in her voice. “Never underestimate the power of highlights.”

  He grinned. “I’ll remember that, thanks.” Now that they were back on the farm, he didn’t have much need for the fancy interview clothes—just as he’d expected. But Holland hadn’t seemed to mind his old reliable jeans and T-shirts. Maybe she was right; maybe the highlights did make all the difference. He chuckled lightly at the thought.

  “What?” Holland asked.

  “Nothing,” Ty said. “Just contemplating the power of highlights.”

  She nodded, her green eyes twinkling. “See? You’re learning.”

  Speaking of highlights, her dark hair picked up faint streaks of gold from the setting sun, and her lips glowed red. The urge to kiss her was almost more than he could take. But it was too soon—he didn’t want to scare her away. He had to settle for holding hands while they watched the sunset behind the line of sheep moving toward the barn for the night.

  * * *

  It was a few days before the real estate agent could set up a showing, but Holland knew the little house would make a perfect headquarters the minute she stepped through the door. From the creaky wood floors to the wavy antique windows, the entire place personified Hailey’s roots.

  Ty was feeling it too—she could tell by the way his face lit up as they went from room to room. The place was quiet with an air of anticipation, as if it waiting for them to come and breathe life back into it.

  They inspected all the rooms, even venturing into the creepy attic, where they found some old wooden crates and boxes that had been left behind by a previous tenant. Holland was hoping for something dramatic, but when Ty opened a box, the only thing inside was dust.

  “I’ll give you a minute to talk about it,” Spencer, the real estate agent, said when they got back to the main floor. He let himself out the side door to the brick patio and busied himself with his phone.

  Holland leaned on the old wooden counter in the middle of the main room and stared hopefully at Ty. “Well?”

  “It’s like this place has just been waiting for us . . .” He flushed. “For me . . . for the foundation.”

  Holland came around the corner of the counter. The room was quiet, dust motes dancing in the light streaming from the front windows. Her heart was beating out of control, like she had a hummingbird trapped in her chest. “You can say ‘for us,’” she whispered. “I like the idea of being part of your life.”

  “I like it too,” he murmured as he dipped his head.

  Before she could stop herself, Holland rose onto her tiptoes, closing the distance between them and pressing her lips to his.

  Ty’s lips were soft and warm and tasted of peppermint lip balm. He wrapped one arm around her waist, one hand pulling her closer as the other cupped her cheek. His fingers slid behind her ear to tangle in her hair as he took control of the kiss. Holland’s breath caught in her chest as she wrapped her arms around his waist, ran her palms up his back, and gave his lips everything they were seeking. It was much more than a stolen moment, more than a shy first kiss. It was like coming home, a sense of belonging filling places inside she didn’t know were empty.

  The siding door opened and, reluctantly, they broke apart. “It’s perfect, Spencer. We’ll take it,” Ty said, his eyes still locked on Holland’s.

  “You cheated me,” a low voice growled.

  Ty whirled Holland behind him so quickly she almost fell. She clutched his arm and peeked around his shoulder to see a man, probably in his early twenties, in the doorway. He was shorter than Ty and leaner, but there was a hard, restless look about him. He wore jeans and a ratty blue sweatshirt, and his eyes glittered with malice as he took a step toward them.

  “Stay back, Chet.” Ty’s voice was as hard as steel.

  “I want the rest of my money,” Chet said.

  “I paid you what we agreed on,” Ty replied evenly. “You signed the papers.”

  Chet shot a stream of brown tobacco spit onto the hardwood floor. “That was before I knew all the facts. You cheated me.”

  “I saved your butt,” Ty said, his tone heavy with contempt. “Misty could have sued you for child support and cost you a couple of grand every month for the next eighteen years. You got off easy.”

  “That’s my son,” Chet insisted.

  “Not anymore,” Ty replied. “You signed the papers and you got your money.”

  Spencer appeared in the doorway Chet had left open and took in the scene. “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine,” Ty grated, his eyes never leaving Chet’s.

  Chet spun on the heel of his cowboy boot and pushed his way past Spencer. He slammed the door so hard that the windows rattled.

  Ty stood in the center of the room, fists clenched at his sides. Holland could see the muscles working beneath his jaw as he ground his teeth. “We’ll take the house. Let’s get the paperwork finished now.”

  “Great!” Spencer said in a falsely upbeat tone. “I’ll call my secretary and have her get started. We should be able to sign tomorrow.”

  He left, and Holland squeezed Ty’s arm, running her palm down the tense and corded muscles. “Are you okay?”

  Ty’s shoulders slumped as he relaxed. “Yeah. Just hate dealing with that dirt bag.”

  “That’s . . .”

  “Chet Coleman—Misty’s ex. His parents own the farm next to ours. What she ever saw in him, I’ll never know. She doesn’t either . . . now.” He sighed. “But, what do you do? She made her choices, and I can only do so much to help.”

  Holland was piecing facts together. “You paid him to give up his parental rights?”

  “Yes,” Ty said. “He didn’t want the baby anyway and was trying to pressure Misty into getting an abortion. I just gave him an easy way out.” He glanced with disgust at the puddle of tobacco juice Chet had left behind. “The judge wouldn’t grant the termination until my parents signed on as the baby’s legal guardians. That way if anything were to happen to Misty, the baby will stay with our family.”

  “How much did you give him?” Holland asked.

  “Thirty thousand dollars, plus enough to cover the taxes on it, so it really was thirty grand,” Ty said.

  “And now he obviously thinks he’s owed more?”

  “Yeah.” Ty scratched at the stubble on his cheek. “I guess thirty thousand seemed like a lot until the idiot did some research and realized how much money I actually won. But it’s too late now; I made sure everything’s legal and binding.”

  “Could Chet have burned the building?” Holland asked. A sick feeling was growing in her stomach.

  “Nah.” Ty shrugged.
“Chet’s just a small-town bully. He likes to make a lot of noise, but when push comes to shove, he backs off, just like he did today. Besides, how does burning my building help him?”

  He exhaled deeply, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close. Holland rested her head against Ty’s chest, pressing her cheek to the softness of his shirt. “I’m tired of talking about money and the foundation,” Ty murmured, his lips against her hair. “Let’s talk about something much more interesting.”

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Such as?”

  “Such as when I can kiss you again.”

  “Hmmm.” Holland lifted her face and pretended to think. “How about in three more hours?”

  “Nope,” Ty murmured. “How about three more seconds?”

  Butterflies shot through her stomach. “Oh really? That soon?” she teased.

  “Three . . . two . . . one . . .” Ty whispered. His lips descended to cover hers, and Holland forgot about everything else.

  9

  Ty banged into the house early the next morning after feeding the sheep to find Holland already awake. She was on the couch with her laptop, wrapped in the quilt he kept at the foot of his bed. His mom had made it when he graduated from high school from pieces of T-shirts he’d had over the years, some going as far back as kindergarten. Seeing Holland in the quilt was satisfying, as if his past and his future were converging.

  “Why are you up so early?” he asked.

  “Couldn’t sleep,” she said with a soft smile that went straight to his heart.

  He crossed the room in a few long strides and reached out to brush her hair back from her forehead. “Everything okay?”

  She nodded. “Just a lot on my mind. You’re going running now?” Holland glanced out the window where the light was still the steely blue of early morning. “It’s got to be freezing out there.”

  Ty laughed. “It’s not that bad, especially once you get warmed up. You wanna come?”

  “No way.” She huddled deeper into his quilt.

  “I’ll talk you into it eventually. Be back soon.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead and left, pulling the door shut against the blast of cold air from the outside.

  Ty hit the button to start his music. He ran down the driveway and onto the main road, gradually working up speed. The crisp morning air burned his lungs and stung his face, and he grinned. There was nothing like it, out running while the rest of the world slept. He’d gone almost three miles by the time the first rays of sun pierced the sky over the mountains. Ty breathed deeply and pulled his earbuds out so only the sounds of the morning and his shoes crunching in the gravel along the road filled his head.

  And thoughts of Holland. She’d looked so cute with her black hair streaming over one shoulder and her sleepy eyes. He’d wanted to pull her onto his lap and bury his nose into the warm hollow of her neck just to breathe in the smell of her.

  He’d barely slept last night, tossing around on the lumpy mattress in the trailer, thinking of her, and wondering if her feelings were as strong as his. Was he moving too fast?

  Well, he didn’t need to rush things. He was going to sign the purchase agreement on the new headquarters later today, and after that there was plenty of work to get it ready. Not to mention actual foundation work. He could definitely find enough to keep Holland employed full time for a long time. If she wanted to stay, that is. Could she learn to love Idaho, or would she miss California? Would she want to be that far from her family? The only way to know was to ask her.

  The roar of an engine cut through his thoughts, a growl coming too fast and too close. Instinctively, Ty dove sideways into the weeds along the road as a pickup truck swerved over the white line, directly where he’d been only seconds earlier. The tires kicked gravel in his face as the driver gunned the engine and peeled out, roaring down the road.

  Ty shot to his feet, bellowing every curse word he knew. He didn’t recognize the truck, a big black Ford, and he took off after it, hoping to at least catch a license plate number. But it was useless. After a few minutes, he came to a halt. Scraping a handful of gravel of the side of the road, he flung it at the rapidly disappearing tailgate.

  Pain knifed through his knee as he turned toward home. He’d twisted it with the jump into the sagebrush. The four miles he’d run had taken him a little more than thirty minutes. But limping home on a bum knee would take much longer. Ty grit his teeth as the wind picked up and set himself to endure.

  * * *

  The rest of the family was awake and Holland was pouring orange juice when Ty dragged himself through the door. She looked up and gasped.

  His hair was windblown, his cheeks were red with cold, and a small cut above one eyebrow leaked blood. His clothes were filthy, and he was limping.

  “Ty!” Misty shrieked, leaping up from the barstool and hurrying toward him. “What happened?”

  “Sit down.” Ty’s mother directed him to a kitchen chair. “Is anything broken?”

  Ty shook his head. “I’m okay, just an accident. I hurt my knee is all.”

  Ellen quickly pulled his pant leg up. “Stretch your leg out,” she ordered.

  Ty winced as he did what he was told. The rest of the family gathered around while Ellen probed the knee with gentle fingertips. Ty groaned when she hit a sensitive spot.

  “You’re freezing,” Holland said when she saw him shiver. She snatched the quilt she’d left on the sofa and wrapped it around his shoulders. “I’ll make you some hot cocoa.”

  “No, I’m okay.” Ty shook his head.

  “What happened?” Misty asked again.

  “I already told you—an accident. Stepped in a pothole and fell. Twisted my stupid knee.” But the look in his eyes said otherwise.

  “You need to see a doctor,” Ellen urged.

  Ty shook his head. “What I need is a shower,” he said, shrugging out of the blanket.

  “Ty!” Misty protested. “What if it’s broken?”

  His eyes darted to Holland. “It’s not broken. I’m going to take a shower.” He limped from the room.

  “So what really happened?” Holland asked later when the family had cleared out and they were alone again at the kitchen table. Ty was scrolling through her latest changes to the website, but from the glazed look in his eyes, Holland knew he wasn’t really paying attention to the screen.

  “I already said: I tripped over a pothole like a big, dumb idiot,” he said, not looking at her.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  Ty lifted his head and glanced around, making sure they were alone. “Okay, fine. Someone tried to run me off the road. I hit the dirt, rolled a bit, and banged up my knee.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “They tried to run . . . as in run over you with a car?”

  “A truck,” he clarified. “I think it was more of a scare tactic than anything, but it kinda worked.”

  “You didn’t see who it was?”

  He shook his head. “Probably the same people who torched the building. Looks like they’re getting more aggressive.”

  “We have to call the police,” Holland insisted, reaching for her phone. “What if the next time they actually hurt you? Or someone else?”

  Ty’s mouth was set in a grim line. “I don’t want to live my life surrounded by police or security guards. I’ve seen plenty of rich guys around here who think they have to travel with entourages. That’s not me.”

  “I don’t know if you have that luxury anymore,” Holland said in a small voice. “Like it or not, you’re known. And sometimes money and fame turns people into targets.” The thought of someone out there watching them turned her blood to ice.

  “I know,” Ty sighed. He rubbed his eyes and then gave her a quick kiss on the nose. “Come on. Let’s go buy the house.”

  10

  Ty signed his name on the final piece of paper and slid it across the table to be notarized. “I’ll have the bank send the wire over this afternoon,” he told Spencer.

  The real est
ate agent nodded. “It’ll take a few days for the funds to transfer, but you should be good to go. I’ll let you know when I get the keys.” He nodded toward the stack of papers on the glossy wood table. “Do you want to wait for copies?”

  “Nah. Just email them to me,” Ty said.

  They left the office, and Holland bounced along beside him as they strolled hand in hand down the sidewalk toward the Mustang. He couldn’t help grinning at her energy.

  “I need to get some security posted,” he said, trying to force his brain to focus on something other than thoughts of kissing Holland. “We should also talk about getting someone out at the house by tonight.”

  “Okay, but first—food,” Holland broke in. “I’m starving, aren’t you?”

  He’d been too preoccupied to think of food, but now that she mentioned it, he was hungry. “Have you ever had a KBs burrito?” Ty grinned and tugged on her hand. “C’mon, it’s just down the street.”

  The walk was a bit farther than he’d anticipated, especially with a sore knee. Ibuprofen had gotten him through the last few days, but he’d been weaning himself off of it and hadn’t taken any this morning. He regretted that decision as the knee throbbed.

  They ordered burritos and took a seat on the patio to wait. Ty stretched his leg out and massaged his knee while he listened to Holland brainstorm.

  “We should definitely throw a party once the renovations are done.” Her eyes lit up. “Invite a bunch of bigwigs from here and Sun Valley, and we could have displays showing what we’re trying to do. Once you get the support from the community, I’ll bet the thugs will back off.”

  “I can do that only if you promise to help,” Ty said. “Hosting a party for a bunch of rich guys doesn’t seem too terrible if I know you’re on my team.”

  Her eyes softened, and she reached out to brush her fingers over his cheek. “I’d like that.”

  They were interrupted by the arrival of the burritos, each as big as a football.

  “This is the only place I know that puts yams in burritos,” Ty said, sighing in satisfaction as they dug in. “Here, you have to try it.” He offered a bite to Holland. Watching her blow lightly on the food to cool it before closing her lips around his fork just about turned him to mush. Sharing food with her felt so intimate.