Page 63 of The Thing About My Secret Billionaire
“I wouldn’t go that far. But they all laughed when I said I was taking a two-month leave of absence to look after my grandpa’s donkey sanctuary. They actually thought I was joking.”
“So they don’t see that side of you?Thisside of you?”
“Does anyone see all the sides of anyone?”
Her mouth tilts into that one-sided smile as she lifts her eyes and does that thing again where they look into mine and it feels like she’s reading and understanding my every thought and every feeling—even the ones I can’t figure out for myself.
“About yesterday,” she says, immediately lowering her gaze to where her finger is tracing the edge of the counter between us.
“Yes. God, sorry, I should have talked about that sooner. I just got caught up getting the guys here, and I had to catch up on a bunch of work stuff, and everything and…” I offer an apologetic shrug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore it. I really didn’t.”
“It was a mistake, right?” Her tone is somewhere between trying to break the bad news to me gently and begging for me to disagree with her.
My heart stutters. I have absolutely no clue which way she’s leaning or which side she wants me to fall on.
But I do know that regardless of which way it is, nothing can happen here. I can’t start something based on a lie. Certainly not something as big as this feels.
So while every part of my being wants to tell her that it was absolutely not a mistake, that all I want to do right now is pick her up and carry her back to the barn, well away from my family, remove every stitch of her clothing, kiss every inch of her body, and make every pore of it vibrate with pleasure, I can’t do that. It wouldn’t be fair to her. And it wouldn’t be fair to me to allow myself to experience what very well might be a life-changing moment with someone I know I can’t have.
“Amistake?” I inhale deeply. “I guess.” The words fallfrom my mouth softly, like they don’t want to come out at all.
It’s a terrible answer, but I don’t want to tell her another lie. Don’t want to tell her that yes, it was a mistake, when the only thing that’s wrong here is the situation.
And I also don’t want her to get the impression I didn’t think it was good or that she’s not good enough. It’s because she’s so absolutely fucking perfect that I can’t do it again under these ridiculous circumstances of my own fucked-up making.
“I mean, not that it wasn’t amazing.” My hands itch to reach out and touch her, so I hook my thumbs in my pockets instead.
“Right, yeah.” She angles her body more toward me, her hip now the only part of her still resting against the counter. “It was definitely amazing.”
“Youare amazing.” Fuck. I literally just decidednotto tell her how much I want her. Like, seconds ago.
“So are you.” Her eyes wander over my face. “Look at you. You broke away from your family tradition of carpentry to go after your own dream. You chose your own adventure, as my grandma would have said.”
“It wasn’t totally out of choice.” I’m overwhelmed with the need to show her a part of the real me, of my true story. “I fucking loved woodworking. And was the star of my class.”
Surprise dances in her eyes. “You mean you didn’t choose to go your own way to make piles of cash?”
I half smirk. “That’s the part no one gets. I got on that path out of necessity, and once you’re on it, it’s harder than you’d think to step offit.”
“Necessity?”
I nod and dig my teeth into my top lip for a second before I can speak. “We lost our home.”
“Whoa.” Her eyes widen with a mixture of shock and concern.
“Well, kind of. It’s a long story.” The part I can’t reveal is that it was Skinner who ripped us off for it. “My parents didn’t have a whole lot of money. Dad’s business wasn’t as successful as it is now. And Mom worked for him, still does, doing all the admin. The twins were only eleven, and I was in trade school. Anyway, other stuff happened, and eventually I dropped out to get as much work as I could to help put another roof over our heads. And”—I shrug—“by an even longer story, I ended up like this. So I’m actually not sure this is my dream at all. It just kind of happened this way.” And every single word of that is true—my real life, the real me.
“That’s not what I expected at all.” She rests her hand on my upper arm and my pulse instantly picks up the pace, my heart pumping. “You’re just full of surprises.”
She inches closer, sliding her hand up and down, slowly stroking my arm.
Jesus Christ, how am I supposed to have the will to resist someone I want more than I want to breathe my next breath? Someone I might suffocate without. As if the world will cease to have air if I don’t have her.
“You say that I’m selfless and giving for coming back here to help my grandpa and try to save the sanctuary.” She pauses to run her tongue over her top lip, and no amount of willpower can stop the hard-on. “But look at whatyoudid. You gave up your real dream to save your family.”
“It didn’t feel like such a big deal at the time.” My fingers can’t resist that delectable piece of hair that alwaysfalls across her cheek. My arm would have to be chained and padlocked to my side to prevent me from lifting my hand and hooking it over her ear. “I just did what needed to be done. And it all got a bit out of control and snowballed into being super successful.”
Rather than do the wise thing—withdraw my hand, shove it into my pocket, turn away, say good night, and head for the door—I allow my fingers to do the wrong thing. To drift down the side of her neck.
