Page 20 of The Runaway Billionaire's Inconvenient Baby
I’d be amazed at how quickly word got around if I didn’t already know this was what living in a small town was like. There are no secrets from anyone here, especially not with Miss Billie on the prowl.
“Can I get you fine folks anything?”
“You’re not open yet, Steven,” she says. “We’re not here to drink anyway. I wanted to show Jacob the view.”
“This place is nothing but views.” Steven sighs happily. “I’d say you can come and help me open up, but that’s probably beneath someone like you, isn’t it?”
He stares right at me as he says it. It’s a loaded question, and I don’t answer it. Anything I say is the wrong thing, and I don’t want to embarrass myself by agreeing to something that will make me look like a fool.
People with cameras are everywhere. The last thing I need is some nerdy know-it-all blog calling me cute for helping out the locals.
I can see it in my mind now. It makes me shiver in horror.
“Steven runs one of the best beach bars this side of the island,” Billie explains to me, unprompted.
“That’s because no one lives on the other side of the island,” Steven says pointedly.
Billie’s face falls. “This is one of the major tourist hot spots. They’re always hanging around here.”
“Those fools just love to come and drink on the beach,” scoffs Steven.
“I can imagine,” I say, and I can. Already the beach is full of people. How many of those are truly local, I wonder. “Guess you must see a lot of tourists in the summer, huh?”
“Yes. This is my busy season.”
“It doesn’t look that busy,” I say before I can think, and I realize that’s absolutely the worst sentence that could have come out of my mouth.
“I told you earlier,” Billie snaps. “Tourism isn’t our major industry here. We like it that way. This is actually one of our busiest summers. Just because we’re not raking in millions in profit every day doesn’t mean we’re not succeeding.”
“Sorry,” I say, throwing up my hands.
She doesn’t accept the apology.
Instead, she turns her back slightly to me and says to Steven, “I’ll see you later. We’re going to head to the harbor.”
“Boat tour?” he asks, nodding knowingly.
“We’re not going to go on one, just to look,” she says, and I almost feel disappointed. I love boats. I love the sea. But I guess Billie doesn’t want to be trapped in a small space with me for that long.
They say their goodbyes and we head toward the harbor. It’s a big place, bigger than you might expect for such a small island. “This is the heart of the town,” says Billie as a seagull squawks overhead. “This is where our lifeblood is. Tourists love to come here and soak it in, to see the fishing boats at work. These are all good people here.”
“I’m sure,” I mutter, and she throws me a look.
“Is any of this getting through to you?” she huffs. “Or are you just humoring me? Do you care?”
“No, no, I’m interested in what you have to say.”
“Are you interested in listening?”
I shrug. “Depends what you have to say.”
She sighs harshly but doesn’t argue any further. Instead, she leads me toward the fishing boats, where she waves at some of the fishermen, who wave back.
“Everyone seems to know you,” I say.
She flushes a little at that, a dusting of pink rising on her cheekbones. “I care about this place. I’ve volunteered to help with everything I can since I was a teenager. I like to help people. I like to give back.”
“A community leader.” I chuckle, and when she doesn’t laugh with me, I realize she’s being utterly serious. Usually when teenagers do stuff like that, it’s not because they care. It’s because they want awards at school or college credits.
