Page 38 of The Runaway Billionaire's Inconvenient Baby
Then days passed. And he’s still sleeping in my bed and taking me to heaven every night.
Yesterday, I even forced him to spend some time with me at the cafe so I could make sure everything was okay. It was, of course, but Jacob barely even complained about sitting there while I dealt with stuff.
He’s suddenly someone completely different. He really did need to get out of his old life. The sea air and island life are doing something wonderful for him.
Today, I’m doing something else I haven’t done in the longest time, taking another purposeful day off. This makes it four straight days I haven’t worked, if we don’t count yesterday. I don’t remember the last time I took this much time for myself. Usually, I work uncountable numbers of hours in the cafe to make sure everything’s running the way it’s meant to.
For the first time in years, I feel like I don’t have to worry about it at all.
Maybe Jacob is doing something good for me too.
We spend a languid morning in bed, relishing each other’s company, then decide to go out for a lunchtime ice cream. I know just the place, I tell him. They make the ice cream themselves, and it’s so good. He tells me he’ll believe me when he tastes it, but I see the sparkle in his eyes. I know he trusts me.
When we finally drag ourselves out of bed, we head to the beachfront, and as I expect, Haven Creamery is jam-packed with people. We get in line and argue about what the best flavor is. Jacob calls me basic for liking cookie dough. I call him a snob for liking pistachio.
“So, what if I am?” he says. “At least I have good taste.”
“Lucky for you, every flavor at this place is to die for, so I won’t even judge you too much for being stuck up.”
“High praise, indeed.” He laughs.
When we get to the counter, he surprises me and orders a cookie dough and tells Millie, the waitress, that he’s been speciallyrecommended this flavor. She’s only sixteen, so she has no idea how to act when a billionaire is making jokes with her.
I go for the double-choc-chunk and ignore the look Jacob gives me about it.
We fight over who’s going to pay, but when he insists, I let him. I can’t say I’m not glad to be enjoying the benefits of a billionaire’s wallet, but I also don’t want him to think I’m taking advantage of it. I can look after myself.
I don’t think I’ll ever get done proving that.
Millie hands us our ice creams, and we head back out into the sunshine. Jacob manages to grab a table on the patio, and we sit. He sighs loudly as he sinks into the plastic chair, and I shoot him an amused look. “I’m just enjoying the sunshine,” he says.
“Not the only thing you’re enjoying, is it?” comes a voice from behind us.
We both turn. Willow stands there, one hand on her hip, one hand holding a cone of mint ice cream. “Is this seat free? Or is the table reserved for lovers?”
“Shut up,” I say, flapping my hand at her.
Jacob gestures to the seat, and Willow sits down with a grin. “That’s not a no, is it?”
Much as I want to lie and deny that me and Jacob are anything, there is no point trying to keep secrets from Willow. She knows me too well not to see straight through it. “We’re just having fun,” I say as mildly as I can, forcing my face not to make any expressions. “That’s all.”
I don’t dare look at Jacob’s face. I don’t want to know if I’ve got the wrong idea.
Willow hums suspiciously but sits down all the same. “Cafe closed today?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No. Lantigua’s in charge over there.”
“Lantigua’s running the place? Feels like only yesterday that he was a teenager.”
“He’s not that much younger than us,” I laugh. “He just turned twenty-two, and he’s perfectly capable of running the place that he’s worked in since he was fourteen.”
“Okay,” says Willow disbelievingly. “Why are you here anyway? Are you feeling okay?”
“Yeah, I’m having a day off,” I say, knowing exactly how many more questions that’s going to invite.
But to my surprise, Willow doesn’t question anything. She just smiles. “You both look happy.”
Not for the first time this week, I curse myself for my tendency to blush hard whenever someone embarrasses me or is nice to me. Trying not to just makes it worse. And not for the first time, I envy Willow’s beautiful brown skin and the fact that her face never turns blotchy red whenever she gets out of breath or even slightly humiliated in public.
