Page 59 of The Billionaire's Secret Desire
He leans over me, his lips close to mine, and I think he’s going to kiss me, but he hesitates. “I can’t believe you stole my dog.”
It’s the last thing in the world I thought he’d say and it makes me burst out in laughter. “She loves me more than she loves you. What can I say?” I throw back at him.
“She’s got great taste.” He leans down and kisses me with the tenderest of touches and I’m all for it. I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. I don’t know how we’ll deal with everything that’s coming next, but I know this: I love him with everything I’ve got.
And for the first time since I left the island, I let myself hope again.
Epilogue - Sawyer
It’s a warm Saturday afternoon in Hibiscus Harbor, and the town’s community park is a full-blown battlefield.
Not a real one—though if you ask the players on either side of the chalk lines, they might argue that point. This is it. The final showdown. The long-anticipated championship game between the Bad News Babes and the Good News Guys. Tensions are high. Pride is on the line. And so is one very ridiculous wager.
“If we win,” Sunni declared this morning at the Bean and Bagel, eyes glinting with mischief, “you all have to show up next week in full costume—chosen by us. At karaoke night. At Hooplas.”
“Define costume,” Garrett asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Like... glitter, tights, wigs. Think full Broadway meets Magic Mike with a hint of Golden Girls.”
Ian nearly choked on his bear claw.
Naturally, we needed a counter-wager.
“And if we win?” I asked.
“Oh, if you win,” Charli had said, arms folded over her tank top and lips twitching with a smirk, “we’ll show up next weekfor your little pool night at Hooplas... in matching shirts that say ‘The Good News Guys Gave It to Us Good.’ Front and back.”
The bar had erupted in laughter. And now, here we are. Game day.
Charli is already talking trash across the field, her hair in a high ponytail, eyes full of fire, hips swaying with every taunt. “You boys ready to cry when we win in the bottom of the ninth?” she calls, pointing her finger at me like she’s Babe Ruth with a vendetta.
I grin and tap the brim of my cap. “Oh sweetheart, you better start designing those shirts.”
But the truth is—I’ve already made my decision.
We’re going to lose.
Deliberately.
I know. I know. But hear me out.
Watching Charli laugh with her friends, watching her bounce on her toes and hip-check Brooke, watching her wink at me across the pitcher’s mound like I’m her whole world—it does something to me. I’d lose a hundred games to see that smile.
“You really gonna do this?” Parker mutters as we huddle before the final inning. “You gonna throw the game? After all our shit talk?”
“Yup,” I say, adjusting my stance.
Garrett raises a brow. “You better be real sure this love story has a happy ending, man. Because I am not emotionally prepared to wear glitter chaps in public.”
“It’ll be worth it,” I say, eyes locked on Charli as she jogs into position, looking more radiant than the damn sun. “She is.”
Hudson groans. “Ugh. It’s always the quiet ones.”
We take the field. And I do it.
I lob soft pitches. I pretend to miss a pop kick. I ‘accidentally’ let a ball roll between my legs.
Charli knows. I can tell by the way she squints at me after her third hit in a row. But she doesn’t call me out. Just flashes me that wicked little grin and lets it happen.
