Her Billionaire Mistake (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove Book 1)

by Lucy McConnell

  Brooklyn grinned. It wasn’t pistols and shotguns, but it would do.

  She shook hands all around and patted Norm on the back before heading out the door. She took in a deep breath of clean mountain air, content to know Eureka Springs would stay just the way it was for years to come. The hat shop would be here in six months, and so would the soap store that was just getting on its feet.

  She started down the narrow sidewalk toward the Sweet Shoppe. Crystal was covering for her while she stormed the castle, so to speak.

  As she neared the doors, she slowed her steps, thinking about what had happened that morning, replaying it in her head and laughing. Watching Moneybags step onto the board and have it throw him into the lake was pretty funny. She’d burst out laughing at the sight and lost her hold on the board.

  Not that she’d tell him that.

  Still, he wasn’t so bad when he was humble. Dripping water. Wearing one shoe. Limping up the stairs.

  That was a guy she could even sort of maybe like.

  Chapter Eight

  Asher

  At the head of The Cove, where a small stream of clear water trickled into the lake, was a big, flat rock. There were lots of rocks like this in the area, but this one jutted out over the water. Asher had spent a good amount of time sitting there, thinking about this place, about possibilities, and every once in a while, a certain brunette with freckles.

  He pushed to his feet and began to climb the hill behind him. Big, chunky squirrels, their bushy tails twitching, chattered at him for interrupting their day.

  Having made a decision, he called Adam Moreau’s direct line.

  Adam answered on the second ring. “You love it, don’t you?”

  Asher chuckled. “Not quite. But I can see the potential.” Everywhere he looked, there was seclusion. The trees were thick enough to provide privacy and a great view. The water was calm today. He was dying to see it during a storm with giant raindrops and a mist.

  “Which lot do you want?” asked Adam. “I’ll give you first pick.”

  “You’re a better salesman than I am.” He kicked up a bunch of leaves as he walked back to the house, enjoying the sour, earthy scent. It was spring, but there were piles left over from last fall. “But no thanks.” If Brooklyn thought along the same lines as the rest of town, he’d be on a wanted poster before nightfall and she’d hang it in every store window on Main Street.

  On Adam’s insistence, he’d brought everything he would need to get the project going. “I think we can break ground within a week. A new road is the first thing on the list. We can’t get machinery down the dirt path.”

  “Whatever you do, don’t take out the Sweetheart Tree.”

  Asher pressed the phone closer to his cheek, thinking he’d heard wrong. He was breathing a little heavier now, having to climb across a steep section of hill. “The what now?”

  “The Sweetheart Tree. It’s in the middle of the road, and it stays. No matter what.”

  Asher remembered the tree that had almost killed him and Mrs. Morgan on their way in. “It’s a hazard, a liability.”

  “Put up a sign. Paint lines on the road. Whatever you have to do.”

  Asher sighed in resignation. Adam was the client, and the client was always right. “We’ll keep the tree.”

  “Good man. I’ll send a consulting contract out for you to sign.”

  He reached the back of the house and tapped his feet against the stoop to remove dirt. “I’ll have my attorney look it over.”

  Adam laughed. “You do that.”

  Asher shook his head. He’d have a fleet of attorneys look it over. Not that Adam would cheat him, but he was a master at the law, and Asher wanted to know what he was signing. They said goodbye, and he entered through the lowest level of the house.

  Mrs. Morgan sat on the couch in the game room, her feet propped up on the coffee table and her laptop in her lap. She didn’t bother with a hello. “The handwriting analysis confirmed everything Brooklyn says.”

  He stopped in his tracks, his mind needing to shift gears. Where he’d been thinking about back hoes and graders, she was stuck on this woman from the Sweet Shoppe. “Grandpa wrote the letter?”

  She glanced down at his feet. “Take off your shoes, would you? Mr. Taylor has enough to do around here without cleaning up your footprints.”

  He grinned. “Since when are you worried about Mr. Taylor?”

  “That’s none of your business.” She sniffed lightly.

  He laughed deeply. Mrs. Morgan was unflappable. To see her even slightly flustered was an anomaly.

  “Are you going to tell Brooklyn who you are?”

  He snorted. “Yeah, that would go over well. I think it’s best to keep the two interactions separate. I am, however, headed over to city hall. The Mountain Cove project is officially underway.”

  “So we’ll be staying on for a few months?” Her cheeks turned pink.

  “You don’t mind telling Mr. Taylor for me, do you?” he teased.

  “Go on with you.” She shooed him along. “I don’t need your sass.”

  “You wouldn’t know what to do without it.” He laughed as he made his way to his room, carrying his hiking shoes in his hand.

  The drive into town didn’t take long, and soon he was in the public parking lot next to the city offices. The building was three stories high, made of red brick, and as boring as a piece of chewed gum. He entered through the large wooden double doors and was immediately greeted by a woman in her forties.

  “Can I help you?” She had a bun so tight that it pulled her crow’s feet smooth and gave her eyes a catlike appearance. He got a headache just contemplating the tension.

  “I’m looking for your city planner.” The development was a large one, with over thirty lots. He needed to go straight to the top.

  “Is he expecting you?”

  “No, but I’m sure he’ll be glad to see me.” The amount of taxes and building fees they’d dump into Eureka Springs would more than quintuple their annual income. He was about to make things a lot easier for this small town’s budgeting committee.

  The receptionist’s smile was unsure—like she didn’t quite know what to do with him. He got that a lot in life and enjoyed keeping people on their feet.

  “Here, hand him these and tell him I’ll wait for ten minutes. After that, he’ll have to make an appointment with my assistant. The number is on the card.” He passed the rolled tube that housed the plot plan for the Mountain Cove development to her slightly shaking hands. It was only after she’d bustled away that he noticed the three half-empty coffee mugs on her desk. The woman liked her joe.

  He tucked his hands into his pockets and strode to the long windows that looked down Main Street. It was a Monday, but there were tourists walking the streets and the trolleys made their faithful loops. School was out today, so there were a bunch of strollers in the mix. He’d have to take a tour soon and get the local scoop.

  The receptionist returned with a man hot on her heals. He had his hand out to shake as he crossed the tiled lobby floor. “Cap Marshel, city planner. It’s great to meet you, Mr. Lockmore.”

  Asher smiled and allowed his arm to be pumped for oil. “You too.”

  “Come on back to my office and let’s have a sit-down.” He motioned for Asher to go first.

  Asher shook his head. “After you.”

  “Carly,” he hissed as they passed the desk, “get something for Mr. Lockmore to drink, would you?”

  She screwed up her nose, giving Asher the impression that she wasn’t too keen on sharing her pot of coffee.

  “Water, if you have it,” he offered.

  She relaxed. “I’ll bring that up in just a moment.”

  “Thanks.” He smiled.

  She batted her eyelashes, and he quickly looked away. He wasn’t here to make connections or have flings. He had a job to do. Truth be told, he was happiest when he had purpose. He could have sat back on his bank accounts and frittered his life away,
but there was something inside of him, a drive, that wouldn’t allow him to relax for too long. Sure, he’d take the occasional vacation to a tropical beach or a snow-covered slope, but he tired quickly of wasting his days away.

  “Cap—that’s an interesting name.” He unbuttoned his suit and sat in the chair across the tidy desk from Cap.

  Cap huffed as he moved a pencil holder and ruler off the corner of the desk and rolled out the plot plan. “It’s short for Captain. My dad was in the Army, and he never made captain but swore his son would, even if he had to brand it on my birth certificate.”

  Asher chuckled. He liked this guy for his honesty.

  “Let’s get down to business, shall we? Tell me about this.” He waved his hand over the sheet.

  Asher scooted forward on his chair. He liked the guy even more after an hour of talking him through Adam’s hopes and dreams for the property. Cap could see the vision right off the bat, and as his enthusiasm grew, he rubbed his almost bald head enough that it shone.

  They wrapped things up and stood to shake hands. Asher rebuttoned his jacket. “How long will it take to get approval?”

  “I’d say about a week.”

  There was a light tap at the door, and a man with Elvis hair looked in. “What’s going on, Cap?” He eyed Asher from loafer to gel, a this-is-your-first-day-on-the-playground gleam in his eye.

  Asher nodded his way in a casual greeting. He could handle the local big shot.

  Cap made quick introductions. “And the development is exciting, let me tell you.” He wrapped his knuckles on the desk to emphasis his point.

  “I’ve heard.” Norm eyed him.

  Brooklyn. Asher mentally growled her name. She had to be the one spreading rumors about him and his plans. The way she’d looked at the house the other morning had been calculating.

  “And I have to say, I’m surprised that you jumped on the bandwagon so quickly, Cap. There’s quite a few citizens upset about what this guy wants to do to our town.”

  Cap’s eyebrows rose. “There are?”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure we can approve the permits without getting input from the citizens.”

  Cap’s brows dove downward. “I’m sorry, Mr. Lockmore. If that’s the case, we might have to extend the timeline.”

  “A new road is the first priority,” Asher stressed. Especially if he’d be driving it every day multiple times a day.

  Norm hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “Well now, that would take up a whole lot of city funds. I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  Asher was getting the idea here. This guy had it in for him. He cocked his head. “Mark my words, gentlemen, the Mountain Cove development will become a reality in Eureka Springs.” He nodded once to Cap. “I’ll be in touch. Start the paperwork, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ll do what I can.” Cap glanced at Norm out of the corner of his eye.

  Asher strode out, showing a confidence he didn’t actually feel. Oh, the development would progress. The only question was, how long was it going to take? With every Tom, Dick, Norm, and Brooklyn standing in his way, it could take years.

  He nodded to Carly on his way out, noting to himself that the water never did make an appearance. There was, however, a fourth mug on her desk with steam rising out of it.

  He stepped into the bright sunlight and shielded his eyes as he grabbed his phone. “Mrs. Morgan,” he said when she answered, “I’m going to need you to find a few phone numbers for me.” He glanced up the street at the Sweet Shoppe as he passed.

  A part of him hoped to see Brooklyn … so he could tell her to mind her own business and leave his alone … that was all. Not so he could count the freckles on her nose. He’d estimated 17. But that wasn’t his motivation. His heart sank when it was her cousin who lifted a hand to wave instead of her. She wasn’t inside.

  He returned the gesture and continued on, berating himself. He wasn’t here to make friends. The sooner Norm figured that out, the sooner he’d back off. And when Asher figured it out, he’d stop looking over Main Street for a head of brown hair.

  Chapter Nine

  Brooklyn

  The sun was out, the weather perfect for an afternoon drive. Yet all Brooklyn could do was scowl at the back of the dump truck in front of her.

  “That smells to high heaven.” Grandma Julie put her hand over her mouth and nose. “Can you give him some more room?”

  Brooklyn tapped on the brakes. The trip to Bentonville for Grandma’s checkup wasn’t supposed to take the whole morning. She needed to make a batch of chocolate bombs for Carina Hawthorn’s birthday party. They didn’t normally have the decadent dessert on the menu because they had to be refrigerated, and the Sweet Shoppe didn’t have a cool display case. But Carina had ordered them special, and Brooklyn was up for a little challenge.

  Anything to keep her mind off Asher Lockmore.

  That’s right, she’d finally learned the pain her neck’s name, thanks to Norm. He’d tracked her down that very same evening and told her all about Mr. Hotshot going straight to Cap with his fancy set of papers and his declaration that the Mountain Cove development was going to happen come tornado or flood.

  Brooklyn swerved to see around the truck and then cut back behind him as a pickup barreled past in the opposite lane. She groaned. “Where is this guy going, anyway?”

  There were a few remodeling projects in town, but there were always remodeling projects in town. Some residents took decades to restore the old mansions on the hill or family homes that had sat empty for far too long.

  The truck slowed to a crawl and then signaled to the right. Brooklyn’s pulse rushed in her ears. “That’s the turnoff to The Cove.” She gulped. “What’s a truck full of asphalt doing here?” The rushing in her ears grew louder.

  “Follow him and see.” Grandma flicked her fingers. The medical tape around her elbow flashed bright pink in Brooklyn’s peripheral vision. The poor gal had been harvested like a vampire victim. The doc was pretty sure her elbow was arthritic but wanted to run a bunch of tests to make sure.

  “I’m going to.” Brooklyn nosed the car around the curve and followed the truck to the Sweetheart Tree. Asher was there, wearing a hard hat and a suit. He stood out as badly as the tree in the middle of the road. The road looked like it had been widened with road base. The truck lumbered down a ways before stopping at a paving machine. The driver left it idling as he talked to the man in charge.

  Brooklyn ripped off her seat belt, threw the car in park, and jumped from the idling vehicle. “What is this?” She threw her hand toward the truck, which was beeping loudly. The only place to turn around and dump his load was by the tree. His tailgate scraped off a patch of bark. “Tell him to look out for the tree!”

  Asher took her elbow and ushered her out of the way.

  Her skin tingled at the point of contact, and she pulled quickly away, not wanting to think about how or why that happened. “That tree has been here for over a hundred years. It’s a landmark.”

  “I know.” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the beeping backup noise. “We’re putting the road around it with plenty of room for it to grow. See that guy over there?” He pointed to a man in a white shirt and black jeans. “He’s an arborist, and he’s here to ensure nothing happens to the precious tree.”

  Brooklyn placed her hand over her heart as if that could stop it from racing away. Though she wasn’t sure if it was the thought of losing the Sweetheart Tree—the very place where couples had carved their initials and wedding dates for almost a hundred years—or if it was because Asher smelled so nice. Like, snuggle up and sniff nice.

  She looked at him but then glanced quickly away as he looked at her.

  “What’s so special about this tree, anyway? I mean, I get the initials and hearts and stuff, but …”

  She gulped. “My parents and aunt and uncle are on there.”

  He cocked his head.

  She turned and met his questioning look. “They’ve all
passed away.” Well, not Dad, but he may as well be dead. I certainly mourned him when he left. “This tree is … well, it feels like a moment of their lives are preserved there.” A happy moment. A moment that assured that she’d come from a place of love and hope and faith. She pointed just a little above eye level. “The two almost touching hearts. My mom and her sister wanted them close together.”

  “I can see it,” he said, his voice low. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  She nodded. Tears didn’t come easily anymore. She’d come to a place where she mostly remembered the good times they had, the laughter, and of course, the lessons in the kitchen. From the time she was a toddler, her mom had her mixing and baking.

  She took a quick breath. “Most people don’t know this, but birch trees grow from the ground up, not from the top out. Which means that initials at the bottom will move upward as the tree grows.” She drifted closer to the tree as she talked.

  Asher followed, inclining his ear.

  “It’s symbolic, I think, of the way families work: the new generations coming in and making their mark while the older ones travel to heaven.” She tipped her head back and watched the sunlight filter through the leaves. She breathed in, needed the mountain air to clear her head. All she got was a nose full of tar and rock smell. She wrinkled her nose. “How did this happen?” She pointed at the trucks. “Is this city funded?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t worry, your tax dollars are safe. My client is paying for the road improvements himself.”

  She sputtered. “You have to have a permit.” Norm was supposed to have this covered. So much for the cowboy in him.

  “I got the permit for the roadway just this morning.”

  “And you conjured up all this in a matter of minutes?”

  “I’m a talented man.”

  “Yeah, keep telling yourself that.” She felt a full-on panic attack growing inside of her. If he could do this, then he could take over the city before any of them knew what had happened.