The Reluctant Boyfriend (The Bad Boyfriend series Book 4)

by Erika Kelly

She let out a laugh. “I’m sorry. I’m rattled. Marcel knows exactly how to push my buttons, and, boy, did he ever scare me.”

  He tipped her chin and pressed his mouth to hers. Her immediate softening hit him with a wallop of pure relief. Which made him realize how certain he’d been that he’d lost her—that Marcel had come to take her home.

  “You’ve mentioned the People’s Party wants to reclaim royal land.”

  “Yes. They want to ‘take it back,’ so the people can profit from it.”

  “What’s it used for now?”

  “There are several ancestral homes, but we’ve donated vast amounts of it for public parks and a botanical garden.”

  “I can’t compare your situation to mine, but I will say that everybody loved my dad. He had a big personality but also a big heart. That bison preserve? That was part of our land once. He donated it to the state. There’s a small liberal arts college in Jackson Hole, and my dad founded the business school. He figured, since so many wealthy people have homes out here, he could take advantage of their expertise. They’re all successful business leaders, right? So, he set up an annual symposium, created a guest teacher program, and now it’s become one of the most highly ranked business schools in the country.”

  “We don’t have a university in St. Christophe.”

  Their gazes locked, and the idea struck them both at the same moment. Excitement sparkled in her eyes. “Oh, my God. Instead of sending out wedding invitations, we can make an announcement that the House of Villeneuve is establishing a university.”

  “No, that you are. It’s your idea. Your family’s going to oversee it and donate the land.”

  “My great grandmother’s estate sits on five hundred acres. It was once a horse farm, so it’s got several outbuildings.”

  “Will your parents go for it?”

  “Oh, wholeheartedly. This is exactly what they love to do. Letting the People’s Party steal our land would kill them, but turning my grandmother’s property into a university?” She threw herself into Brodie’s arms. “And the best thing is that it takes the focus away from marriage and babies and puts it on the real value of our family as stewards of St. Christophe. It’s brilliant.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, the strangest feeling coming over him. “We make a good team.” It was warm and bright, alive and throbbing.

  “We do.” She pulled away and started tapping on her phone. “I need to tell them right now. The sooner they make the announcement, the better.” She looked at him like he was the best thing that had ever happened to her. “Thank you for talking it through with me. I love the way you’re always coming up with ideas.”

  It filled him with a pulsating energy, and made his heart grow so big and thick it felt like it would punch right out of his chest.

  And, right then, he knew exactly what it was.

  It’s love.

  As impossible as it was, Brodie Bowie had fallen in love.

  And he knew, without a doubt, there was no turning back.

  “Your ex is still in town.” Brodie came back from his meeting with Pierce and the board to find the kitchen table loaded with boxes. Rosie was tearing them open and pulling out bottles and glass jars, silver vats, and clear rubber hoses. “I saw him having breakfast in the hotel.”

  “I know. He says he’s not giving up. That it’s ‘much bigger than the two of us.’” She stabbed scissors into the center of the next box and sliced it open.

  Setting his laptop on the coffee table, he headed into the kitchen and pulled a knife from the block. He joined her at the table, watching her pull items out like she was on a game show. “Are we timing ourselves?”

  She cut him a look. “What does that mean?”

  “You’ve either just downed an energy drink or you’re trying to beat a world record.”

  She dove back in, not a hint of a smile. “I need to get going. I can’t believe my supplies sat in customs this long.”

  “Well, hang on. You’ve already created the essential oil and the formula for the lotion. You’ve got the supplies you ordered locally, and I know you made some calls about a production facility. We’re good.” No question, she’d stayed on top of everything.

  “Yeah, but I still have so much to do.” She tossed the empty box aside, pulled another one closer, and stabbed it.

  “That fucker got your clock ticking.”

  “He…what?”

  “Marcel. He set a timer.” He reached for her hands and brought them to his mouth for a kiss. “Sweetheart, nothing’s changed. We’re right where we need to be with our business, the vote’s still happening the Tuesday after next…just because that dickwad flew out here and rattled your cage, it doesn’t change the timetable.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “What has changed is that you’ve come up with a smarter way to win the voters’ loyalty.” He let her go and started pulling bubble-wrapped packages out of the box.

  “It’s not the timetable I’m worried about.” Her shoulders relaxed. “I guess I just resent that I can’t stay here longer. Now that…”

  “Now that what?”

  Distress pinched her features. “Now that I’ve found all this goodness.”

  It hurt to look into those pale green eyes so filled with longing, knowing he couldn’t change anything. “But you’re here now, so let’s just live in the moment.” What else could he do? Unless…had she gotten some new information? “You’re not going home yet, are you? I mean, you haven’t scheduled a flight?” Oh, Jesus. Had they run out of time already?

  “No. I’m not going home yet.” She reached for a glass jar and waved it at him with a mischievous smile. “Not when I have this.”

  She’d finished the perfume last night, and they’d celebrated in bed. Well, on the back of the couch, the shower, and then the bed. Grabbing it from her, he twisted the top off. Immediately, the scent hit his nostrils. Rich, exotic, elegant.

  “It’s really good, isn’t it?”

  “From now on, I think it’s the only thing you should wear.” No clothes, no shoes, no jewelry. Just this scent.

  “Oh, I’ll definitely…” She caught his expression. “You mean that literally.” He didn’t even have to answer. She just smiled and shook her head. “Well, I give you credit for not having me wear my Louboutins in that fantasy. My feet thank you. Oh, I think I’ve got a name for it. Belle Starr.”

  “That’s a long way from Nocturne.”

  “I know, but it should be, right? Nocturne comes from a meadow in the Alps. Belle Starr comes from an outlaw town. I looked up the history of this place, how this valley, surrounded by huge, impassable mountains, made it the perfect haven for outlaws. When I looked them up, I found some really badass women. Belle Starr was the leader of a gang, a smart businesswoman, and she owned her sexuality.” She cupped the side of her mouth and said, “She slept with a lot of guys.”

  “But maybe we won’t advertise that last part?”

  “We’re not hiding Belle’s light under a bushel.”

  Brodie laughed. “Not sure that’s the right expression for the context, but, yeah, Belle Starr it is.”

  “Good. So, that’s done. And now I can’t wait to get my lab set up so I can get the body lotion going.”

  He pulled some pouches of unrefined shea butter out of an open box. “So, how does this work, exactly?”

  “At home, I’d send the formula to our lab and production facility, but of course we don’t have one yet. And it’s not easy to find a place that’ll work with us—not when we’re such a small operation. A new product requires its own equipment, maybe even a separate building. It’s more than most companies want to take on, but I think I’ve found a place in Idaho that’ll handle it for us. I might’ve stretched the projections a little.”

  Given the beauty of this scent, he doubted that. “I can’t believe you’ve already found a place.” From the next box, he pulled out some bags of plant-based emulsifying wax. “Pastilles? What is this stuff
?”

  “So, I’ve got two different formulas. One’s a body butter. It’s super rich, and for that I don’t need water. It’s great for winter, when the air’s dry and cold. It’s also great for older women. The other’s a lighter formula. For that…” She hefted a jug of distilled water. “I use water. But, of course, water and oil don’t mix, so you need an emulsifier, which basically has two ends. One is a water-loving molecule, and the other likes oil, so it enables the two to mix. That way it won’t separate like salad oil.”

  “Is it weird that I’m really turned on right now?”

  “Well, we are talking about oil.”

  “Nah, it’s your intelligence. Your passion’s sexy.”

  He loved watching her turn from embarrassed to…awed. “I let someone strip me of my confidence. But around you? I feel like the sexiest woman in the world.”

  He kissed the corner of her mouth. “That’s because you are.” But he could tell she was still distracted, and he needed to figure out why. “You talk to your parents about the university idea?”

  “They love it. They’re seriously off and running with the idea. This is the best thing ever for my father. Good stress he can handle. Bad stress…” Her gaze went unfocused. “I just worry about him.”

  Bingo. “Did Marcel say something?”

  For the first time since he’d entered the room, she stopped moving. “Yesterday he said, if I’d seen my father in that meeting, I’d understand why he killed my lotion idea. I hate that I’m stressing my father out. He’s got enough to worry about, and I’m only making it worse.”

  “That fucker.” Marcel really did know how to push her buttons. “Does he have health issues?”

  “He had a heart attack, but that was years ago. He’s changed his diet since then, cut back on his hours…actually, that’s when he promoted Marcel’s father to take over the finance side of the business.”

  “But you’re still worried about him.”

  “I am, but it’s a long story.” She brought a silver vat into the kitchen, set it on the counter, and plugged it in.

  Given how much she didn’t want to talk about it, he figured it was important. “We can talk while you work.”

  “Well…” She gazed out the window, as if gathering her thoughts. “So, up until I was fourteen, I went to boarding school in Switzerland.”

  “Okay.”

  “I was a very good girl, but the price of that was closing my eyes and pretending to sleep while the bad girls snuck out at night. It meant walking past them and ignoring my curiosity to find out about their latest scheme.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Yes, it doesn’t end well. The bad girls wore eyeliner and rolled up the waistbands of their skirts, they smoked cigarettes and had sex in the boat house with the boys from the school across the lake. I just really wanted to know what it felt like to be bad. So, over spring break, instead of going home like I always did, this time I stayed in town. For a whole week, I was deliciously bad. I smoked pot and drank. We’d take the train into Zurich and hit the clubs with our fake IDs. It was crazy and awful.”

  “Awful?”

  “It didn’t wind up being nearly as fun as I’d hoped. I didn’t like drinking. Hated pot. The first night in the club was fun, the second night was…less fun, but by the fifth night? I was bored out of my mind.”

  “So, what happened?”

  “The night everyone came back, we snuck out and met the boys in the boat house. It was cold, so they built a fire.”

  “There was a fireplace in the boathouse?”

  “No, they made a bonfire.”

  “Oh, shit.”

  “Yeah. Hang on. We drank, got wasted, and then everybody started hooking up. I’d had enough at that point, so I left. Went back to my room and went to sleep. Well, a couple hours later, the lights were on, and people were screaming and crying. The boat house was in flames. One of the girls had third degree burns all over her body. We found out a few days later that one of the boys died.”

  “Jesus. That’s terrible.”

  “It was terrifying and heartbreaking.” She drew in a breath. “Anyhow, they tested us all for drugs, and of course I didn’t come out clean. My parents were called, and I was expelled. But…my parents didn’t come get me. Marcel’s parents did. I don’t think I’ve ever been more scared in my life. I’ve never once doubted my parents love…until that night. When they didn’t show up, when it was Monsieur Allard? I was sick about it.”

  “Maybe they were trying to keep you out of the press. If they came, it’d be all over the news.”

  She shook her head, the experience still alive in her eyes. “They didn’t come because my father had a heart attack.” She held a hand as if to stop him from speaking. “Totally unrelated, I know, but my emotions from those couple of weeks are so tied together I blamed myself. I was so ashamed, so guilt-ridden, I couldn’t eat. Couldn’t sleep.”

  “Ah, princess. I’m sorry.”

  Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she swiped them away. He pulled her in for a hug.

  “You have to know my father. He’s the sweetest, kindest man you’ll ever meet. He loves his wife and his daughters, he loves the people of St. Christophe, and even though he’s the prince of a small country, he lives a very pure and simple life. He wants to read the paper in peace every morning and eat dinner with his family at night. He’s in bed by ten o’clock and out on the trails every morning by six.” She exhaled. “I think I could’ve handled his anger, but he was disappointed in me.”

  “And, so, you’ve been dutiful ever since so you don’t disappoint him again.”

  “Or give him a heart attack.”

  “Yeah, that makes sense. But, no matter how stressful this situation is, I’d bet the ranch he wouldn’t want you taking responsibility for what’s going on politically. I would guess, if you asked him, he’d tell you this kind of pressure comes with the territory. It’s just part of the job of running a nation.”

  She tilted her head. “That’s so funny. That’s such an obvious thing, so totally true, and yet it never once occurred to me. I think, because I’ve never been able to talk to anyone other than Marcel and my assistant about any of this stuff, it’s really just been about recycling the same ideas. Talking to an outsider gives me a whole new perspective.” She placed a hand on his chest. “I like you, Brodie.”

  “Yeah, I like you, too.”

  Bracing both hands on the edge of the counter, she jumped up and wiggled back a little, opening her legs so he could step between them. Never once looking away, she scraped the hair back from his temples, then ran a finger over his lips.

  A crackling energy flowed between them, shocking his heart and making his nerves vibrate.

  “This…” She waved a hand between them. “Isn’t usual, right?”

  “If by this you mean the way you make me want to keep you, then, no, princess. It’s anything but usual for me.”

  “I wish…”

  He shook his head. “Wishes don’t mean shit. Whatever we want, we have to make it happen.”

  “In this situation, I’m not sure that’s possible.” She jumped off the counter and went back to work. “And I don’t know what to do about that.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Who’s got Ruby tonight?” Brodie had to shout for his brother to hear him over the loud music in the bar.

  “She’s got a sleepover with Uncle Lachlan.” Will never took his eyes off the dance floor, where Rosie, Delilah, Knox, and Callie danced together. They were wild, funking it up.

  Rosie looked happy, and as much as he wanted to get out there and grind all over her ass, he liked seeing her just like this. Part of his family, being her best damn self.

  Brodie gave his brother a shove. “Then what’re you doing out with us tonight?”

  “Delilah works her ass off, and she wanted a night out.”

  “When are you going to put a ring on it?”

  Will downed the rest of his water. “She’s got
a big family, and a wedding’s going to be a real production. We want to do it when things settle down. When Ruby’s stable, and Delilah’s got a handle on her restaurant.”

  “You don’t give a shit about a piece of paper.”

  “Not really. I’ve got everything I need.” Will’s thumb rubbed the condensation on his glass. “Is it weird for you? Having the three of us locked up in relationships?”

  “Yeah.” He wanted to change the subject, but—for the first time in his life—there was nothing more pressing on his mind than Rosie. “I never got it, you know? The appeal. I like my life too much to have to compromise with someone, to worry about her feelings or what she wants to do.”

  He watched Rosie on the dance floor, her dark hair seemed to absorb all the lights in the room, making it glow and glimmer. Her tall, statuesque frame stood out among the others—even dancing, she was elegant and absolutely stunning.

  Seeing her laugh so hard her limbs flopped like a human windsock made his heart hurt.

  Because she was so vibrant and beautiful and passionate, and he knew he’d never meet someone like her again. He didn’t want her to leave.

  Ever.

  “But I get it now.”

  Will grinned. “Because with her, nothing’s more important than what she wants.”

  “Exactly. There’s no sacrifice, because I just want to see her happy.”

  “Oh, hell, man. You found her.”

  “Well, I…” That’s not true, because I can’t have her.

  But, for the first time, he didn’t entirely believe that. This is the shift Will was talking about. When you stop seeing obstacles and start seeing pathways around them. “Yeah, I think I did.”

  I’m going to marry that woman.

  The sudden realization had him jumping out of his chair. “I’m heading to the bar. You want anything?”

  “Nah,” Will said. “We’re not staying much longer.”

  Brodie pushed his way through the crowd.

  Marry her.

  Where the hell did that come from?

  What would that even look like? The bartender was slammed, so Brodie waited to catch his attention.