The Brave Billionaire (Clean Billionaire Beach Club Romance Book 11)

by Elana Johnson

  “Well, I never see my parents,” he said. “So we’ll probably see yours a lot.” He watched her for a reaction, and she just kept fiddling with his buttons.

  “Or we can make our own traditions,” she said. “In Getaway Bay. Maybe your mom or dad would come see us there.” She looked up at him then, and Lawrence had thought there was no way he could love her more. But in that moment, he did.

  “Memories in the penthouse?” he asked.

  “If that’s what you want,” she said. “Can we see the sun set from there?”

  “It’s on the twentieth floor,” he said. “So I think seeing the sunset is a definite possibility.”

  “Mm. Now remember, Jules will not want to be upstaged. We just nod and smile at her.”

  “Nod and smile,” he said. “I can do that.”

  “And Evie is bringing Tommy too, and that’s a very big deal for her,” Maizee said, repeating the things she’d been telling him for a week.

  “But we like Tommy,” Lawrence said.

  “Yes,” Maizee said. “You’ll see.”

  “I’ve met people before,” Lawrence said.

  “You said you’ve not met a woman’s family before.”

  “No, but I’ve met people. Believe it or not, I’m quite good at small talk.” He smiled gently at her. “There is something I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Oh?” She stepped out of his arms and into the hall outside his hotel room.

  “Yeah.” He swallowed, checked to make sure he had his room key, and took her hand in his. “It’s about marriage.”

  She stopped walking as if her feet had grown roots. “What?”

  Heat shot to Lawrence’s face. “Well, I just thought—”

  “You are not asking me to marry you this weekend.” She started shaking her head so violently, her hair swung back and forth, fanning out. “Nope. Not happening.”

  “Why not?” Lawrence may have bought a ring already. They’d been back together for almost three weeks. And he’d packed it and brought it with him.

  “This is the totally wrong time,” she said. “My sister is getting married and my other one is in the first serious relationship she’s been excited about in a year.” She gave her head one final shake. “No.” She gave him a very serious stare over the top of the sedan he’d rented to get them around the island.

  “All right,” he said, feeling completely out of his element. “When would be a good time?”

  She ducked her head and tucked her hair, one of his favorite gestures. “Oh, surprise me.”

  “Just not this weekend.”

  “Not this weekend.” She opened her door and slid into the car, leaving him little choice but to do the same. Lawrence followed her directions around the twisty roads, finally pulling into a modest home surrounded by tons of trees.

  He had no idea how to surprise a woman like Maizee, but at least he had something new to obsess about now. Too bad it couldn’t happen right now, as the front door of the house opened before he could even unbuckle.

  Two women spilled out, obviously Maizee’s sisters, what with the blonde hair and the blue eyes and the smiles as wide as the Mississippi. They flew down the steps as Maizee said, “Jules is in front,” and got out of the car.

  They’d slowed to a walk by the time Lawrence met her at the front of the car and took her hand in his. “Ready?” she said, but he didn’t have time to answer before her sisters stood only a few feet away.

  “Hello,” Jules said, her hair a darker shade of blonde than Maizee, and infinitely lighter than the third sister—Evie.

  Jules batted her clearly false eyelashes at Lawrence, and Maizee’s hand in his tightened. “This is Juliet,” Maizee said. “She’s engaged to Johnny. Remember I told you about Johnny?”

  “Right,” Lawrence said, wanting to do everything to make Maizee’s life easier, including this Thanksgiving trip to see her family. “Johnny. He owns the body shop.” He gave Jules his widest, most political smile, the one he gave the photographers when he was getting headshots taken.

  “Yes,” Maizee said, almost robotically. “And Evelyn. She brought Tommy for dinner too.”

  “Of course.” He shook Evie’s hand, and she seemed sane. All three of the Phelps sisters were remarkably well put together, right down to the accessories. “Tommy’s the paramedic, right?”

  Evie grinned and nodded. “That’s right. And he’s currently out back with Dad—alone.” She gave Maizee a pointed look.

  “She can’t figure out how to get out there without seeming like she wants to save him.” Jules giggled.

  “Is Johnny here?” Maizee asked, taking a step toward the front door. The sisters went too, Jules explaining how Johnny was trying to make a pumpkin pie for their feast in a few hours and it was still in the oven.

  Lawrence didn’t believe her for a second, but no one questioned her. They climbed the steps, still chattering, and Lawrence waited to go last. His nerves seemed to be firing and skipping, bumping around underneath his skin. Her father was out in the yard, so he’d only have to meet her mother right now.

  The older blonde woman stood in the kitchen, wearing an Anne of Green Gables apron and stirring something on the stove with vigor.

  “Hey, Mom,” Maizee said, and her mother glanced up.

  She did not stop stirring, but said, “Evie, come finish this.”

  Evie complied, and Maizee’s mother turned toward them, wiped her hands on her apron and then fixed her hair before coming over to meet Lawrence.

  “Hello,” he said, glancing real quick at Maizee, his mind blanking as to her mother’s name.

  In the next moment, she latched onto him and said, “Welcome to our home.” She kissed one cheek and then the other and stepped back, her face happy and beaming. The whole house smelled like roasted turkey and something sweet, and Lawrence really hoped there would be plantains and poi for dinner.

  “Thank you for having me,” Lawrence said, his voice a bit on the thick side. It felt…nice to have a mother’s touch, to be hugged like she knew him and loved him. She moved over to Maizee, hugged her, and then turned back to the kitchen.

  “Jules, we need punch made and those plantains peeled.”

  “I hate peeling plantains.”

  “You eat more of them than anyone,” Maizee said, quickly stepping back over to Lawrence. “Her name is Linnie. Dad is Lorenzo.”

  “Incoming,” Evie said as she passed, a quick nod toward the windows at the back of the house. “Dad’s on his way in.”

  Lorenzo, Lorenzo, Lorenzo, Lawrence recited to himself, saying it and smiling and shaking the man’s hand once they were introduced. He met Tommy too, and the guy seemed nice enough. He held Evie’s hand, and they seemed to have a whole conversation just by looking at each other.

  Lawrence liked that, liked that Maizee had somehow known he’d blanked on her mother’s name.

  “So, Lawrence,” Lorenzo said. “What do you like to do?”

  He looked at Maizee, trying to find a couple of one-word answers he could give. She gazed steadily back at him, those blue eyes sparkling like sapphires.

  “I’m kind of an indoor person,” he said. “But I do like sailing and hiking.”

  Lorenzo smiled, and Lawrence was glad he could give the right answer. The couple of hours before dinner passed quickly, with Johnny showing up a mere five minutes before the meal began. He carried a store-bought pumpkin pie and gave Jules a quick kiss on the cheek before launching into a story about how everything he’d tried with the homemade pumpkin pie had ended in disaster.

  Then he tucked himself in at the table without even noticing Lawrence was there. When he finally looked up and caught Lawrence’s eye, he nearly choked. “I know you,” he said, reaching for a napkin.

  “This is Maizee’s boyfriend,” Linnie said. “Lawrence Gladstone.”

  Johnny wiped his mouth, his eyes wide, but Lawrence couldn’t tell if he was nervous or awed. “Yeah, my loan on the body shop is from Gladstone Finan
cial. I get a newsletter every month with your picture in it.”

  “Ah, yes.” Lawrence smiled and speared another forkful of the most delicious fried plantains he’d ever had the pleasure of eating. He cut a quick look at Maizee. “Those newsletters are quite infamous.”

  She giggled but he just kept his smile in place until Jules moved the conversation to her wedding.

  Nineteen

  “He hasn’t asked you yet?” Maizee wanted to yank the phone around in a full circle, which would make Jules dizzy. At least then she’d shut up.

  “These are the centerpieces,” she said, holding the phone as still as she could as she moved down the table. “Hope said you have five choices for the package you chose.”

  “We don’t need centerpieces,” Jules said. “I’ve told her that a million times.” She made a scoffing noise of disgust. “Honestly, the wedding is in six months. I could get a new planner, right?”

  “No way.” Maizee turned the phone back so she could see her sister’s face. “Jules, this place is amazing. All the people here are amazing. There’s no way you can get better than this.” She tried to convey the urgency of her words by giving them a few seconds of silence.

  “All the flowers are locally sourced. She probably just forgot.”

  “We’re using the garden flowers for centerpieces.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” Hope said, clicking the last few steps toward them. “But you still need corsages, right?” She pressed her face in close to Maizee’s so Jules could see them both.

  “Yes,” Jules said.

  “Let’s keep moving down then,” Hope said, and she took over the rest of the meeting, thankfully. Once the call with Jules was disconnected, she said, “So, when are you booking your tidal forever?”

  Over the few months Maizee had been coming to the shop to help her sister, she’d gotten to know a few of the women there, Hope especially. “He hasn’t asked yet,” she said for what felt like the millionth time. “Honestly, when I told him not to ask that weekend, I assumed he’d do it the next day.” She blew out her breath and adjusted a bangle on her wrist. “But he hasn’t even brought it up again.”

  “Is there anything special coming up?” Hope asked.

  “You mean, besides Valentine’s Day?” They’d spent Christmas together in his penthouse, decorating a huge tree and making hot chocolate. Snuggling by the fake fire. Talking about their lives and if they wanted children, dogs, a lot of land, a white picket fence. All of it.

  “Maybe he’s waiting for that.”

  “I don’t want to get engaged on Valentine’s Day.” Maizee made a face. “Surely he won’t wait that long.” She glanced at Hope, desperate for confirmation. “Will he?”

  “I don’t know him all that well.” Hope gave her a reassuring smile. “But what about your birthday? Or his? Maybe he’s waiting for something special.”

  Lawrence was a waiter, that was for sure. “Maybe I just need to tell him I’m ready,” Maizee mused. The scent of garlic bread met her nose, and she turned toward the front office.

  “Feeding everyone today?” she asked.

  “A supplier lunch,” Hope confirmed. “That’s why I was late. Do you want to stay?”

  Maizee’s stomach grumbled, but she shook her head. “No, but thanks.” She gave Hope a quick squeeze and headed for the exit. She’d call Lawrence and ask him to lunch—where she’d bring up the topic of marriage.

  By the time she’d called Lawrence’s phone four times without getting him to answer, she knew something was wrong. He hadn’t told her he’d be away from his phone, and she wondered if he’d gone out hiking. Maybe to the beach. He said he’d been visiting it a lot more lately, because it wasn’t high tourist season and the sand didn’t bother him so much now that he’d learned about the showers up by the buildings that lined the road. Then he could rinse off his feet before stuffing them back into his shiny leather shoes.

  Maizee had laughed for a long time over that. She’d told him that most people wore flip flops to the beach, and swim trunks, and hey, she’d really like to see him without a shirt on.

  But he took off his tie and loosened his collar, removed his shoes and socks, and dug in.

  She tried to call him again, with the same result—voice mail.

  At that point, her worry lifted, and she left a message, “Lawrence, I’ve called five times. Are you okay? Can you at least text to let me know you’re alive and I don’t need to call the police?”

  She stared out the windshield, wondering if she should just go to the beach and walk the sand until she found him. She hung up and sighed, her stomach still grumbling about the lack of food inside it.

  Her phone buzzed, and she couldn’t look at it fast enough. But it wasn’t Lawrence. Instead, Tawny’s name sat on the screen. Are you coming to class today?

  The yoga classes were held a little later in the day during the winter months, especially on the weekends, and she could get in a workout and then grab lunch right on the beach. She wasn’t exactly dressed for yoga, but at least she wasn’t wearing a skirt.

  Sure, I’ll be there in a minute.

  Maizee put the car in drive and pulled out of the lot. Nothing was very far in Getaway Bay, though it did take several minutes to drive up and around the bay and along the main drag that led to Getaway Bay from East Bay.

  She parked across the street, because there were so many cars on the beach side, which she found very odd. Maybe there were a lot of tourists here at the end of January, or a big convention at the hotel. Something, because there were so many people on the beach already, Maizee couldn’t even see the yoga class.

  Glancing around, she locked her car and shouldered her purse. There was definitely something going on. Something big. Maybe Sweet Breeze had hosted a wedding, as she could see streamers waving as the breeze picked up.

  Men in suits stood on the beachwalk as she went past, all of them watching her. She’d been a head-turner in her life once, but their undivided attention was a bit odd.

  And then she recognized one of them. She paused, almost stumbling though she wore flats. She turned back and looked at the impeccably dressed man. “Do I know you?” He had dark hair and blue eyes and exuded power from those broad shoulders. He was so much like Lawrence, and she realized she was staring at his friends.

  “Have you seen Lawrence?” she asked next, when none of the six men standing there had said a word.

  The one she recognized—she was almost sure he owned the hotel they were loitering outside of—nodded down toward the beach. “He’s out there somewhere.”

  “Does he have his phone?”

  “Does Lawrence go anywhere without his phone?” The man chuckled and looked at his friends. One shook his head, and he looked a bit familiar too. Maybe she’d seen him in one of her financial magazines.

  But he didn’t even wear a suit, but that pair of board shorts and faded T-shirt she wished Lawrence would put on when he went to the beach. He grinned at her and pointed toward the beach. “I just saw him out there. Looked like he was going to take the yoga class.”

  Maizee spun, her heart suddenly hammering. But she couldn’t see anything. “Am I supposed to go down there?”

  “If you want to take the yoga class,” one of the men said behind her.

  She left without saying anything else, her feet suddenly bent on making it to the yoga class as quickly as possible. There were people everywhere, and she pushed through the crowd, hoping she was going in the right direction to get to beach yoga.

  As she moved closer, she heard, “…that’s it. All the way down,” in Tawny’s soothing voice over a speaker. “Feel the energy from the ground. Let it flow through you.”

  Maizee saw the streamers flowing, and if she could just get past a few more people, she’d be in the square where the class was held. She finally burst onto the scene—but there was no one there.

  No class.

  No Tawny.

  “Oh,” her voice said through the speaker.
“Our guest of honor has arrived.”

  Maizee looked around, trying to find her friend. Or anyone else who might even be a little bit familiar. The space where the yoga class was usually held was shaded by a huge pergola, obviously hand built. White, blue, and pink streamers waved lazily in the wind, and the scent of roses floated on the air.

  “What—?”

  Lawrence appeared on the other side of the square, so close and yet impossibly far away. He wore slacks and a light blue dress shirt, open at the throat. Maizee’s breath hitched in her chest. He wasn’t here to do yoga.

  And she wasn’t either.

  Tawny stepped beside him and reached up to clip the mic to his collar. After several seconds of silence, she practically shoved him out into the open sand. Lawrence stumbled, but at least he wasn’t wearing his thousand-dollar shoes.

  Instead, he was barefoot and holding one hand behind his back.

  Maizee started across the sand toward him, noting that the noise level had dropped considerably. “Lawrence,” she said, glad he’d begun walking too. “What’s going on?”

  People stepped out from the crowd, making Maizee stall before she reached Lawrence. She recognized these faces—Kara from Roasted, Polly and Willie from work, Tawny and Hope and Riley.

  They each held red roses, and Maizee’s hand went to her mouth. “Oh my….”

  Lawrence reached her then, one hand cradling her elbow. “Hey, Maizee.” The smile that crossed his face could certainly achieve world peace. “I got your message, but then I heard you were on your way over here.”

  “What’s going on?” she whispered, already knowing but wanting him to say it.

  “I’m in love with you,” he said, running one hand through her hair. His eyes burned with an intensity she’d never seen. He dropped to both knees in front of her, bringing that hidden hand in front of him. “I had this big speech all prepared.” He gave a nervous chuckle, but Maizee honestly couldn’t breathe.

  “But I’ve sort of forgotten it.” Lawrence glanced up as Tawny handed him her rose. One by one, the other people Maizee had gotten to know over the past few months gave Lawrence their flowers too.