Page 31 of The Undercover Billionaire's Baby

“I got his car running this morning, that big sedan. He didn’t have cash to pay me, so he’s letting us use his jet ski.”

I did a facepalm. “He didn’t have cash? Brad, he invented that phone pay app — CashMe or MyCash, I always forget. The one with the stupid porcupine logo. He could’ve CashMe’d you. That man is just cheap.”

Brad laughed. “Yeah, I know. But isn’t this better?” He threw the door open and there was the jet ski, gleaming blue and red in the shade of the boathouse. Cambie’s boat was there too, the one he took fishing. His big boat, he kept at his own private dock, so his colleagues would see it when they came to visit. I’d never seen him take that boat out. I wasn’t even sure he knew how to drive it.

“You know what’s crazy?” I said. “How he gave you his key. How all these summer folks… they barely lock anything, not their houses, their cars. They leave their stuff and go swimming and don’t think about thieves. Not that we’d steal anything, but it’s like…” I frowned. “Like, if we did steal, they could afford it.”

“That’s not it,” said Brad, unmooring the jet ski. He got it in the water and hooked it to the dock. “I mean, yeah, take this jet ski, Cambie could buy a whole fleet of them. But if this one went missing, he’d call the cops. And he’d know they’d work hard for him. They’d be on his side. He’d get his jet ski back, or insurance would cover it. He doesn’t care about losing things because there’s nothing he can lose. Nothing he can’t get back in a snap.”

I stared at the jet ski, disgusted. Nothing to lose. Meanwhile, my whole life stood poised on the brink. One more disaster, and I’d be done.

“Here, put this on.” Brad held out a life vest. I took it and shrugged it on, and fastened the buckles. Brad frowned at the job I’d done and reached out. “May I?”

I swallowed, my mouth gone suddenly dry. I nodded, unsure what he’d do.

“Got to get these tight so it can’t slip off.” He straightened my life vest, then tightened the buckles, tugging and testing till he was satisfied. When he was done, he stood back and admired his work. “I’m a good driver, but you can’t be too safe.”

“Thanks,” I said, and I felt my voice catch. The life vest was snug, but not so tight it pinched me. I felt… held. Protected. Like Brad was hugging me, shielding me from harm.

He unhooked the jet ski and swung his leg over, then paused and looked back at me. “Unless you’d rather drive?”

“I’ll ride,” I said, and hopped on behind him. I slid my arms around him and held on tight.

Brad revved the engine and soon we were flying, bumping over the gentle waves. Fine spray flew up and I tucked my head up against him. He smelled good, sunwarmed, and I breathed him in deep. I thought to myself, I could do this forever, out on the water snugged up in my life vest. Snugged up to Brad, with the wind in our hair. Out here, all my problems seemed far away, part of my land life. Another world.

The next day, we both got up an hour early. It had hit us both over pasta last night, we’d been working our butts off getting permits for the fun run, drumming up sponsors, signing up runners… but we’d completely forgotten to practice, ourselves.

Brad emerged from his room in beach shoes and shorts, a threadbare old T-shirt with a faded band logo. I scowled at his shoes.

“You’re running in those?”

“I don’t have real running shoes. It’s these or my work boots.” He waggled his toes at me. “I’ll grab some for the race.”

We set out on our jog, Brad’s sandals slapping. It was funny at first, then we found our rhythm, pacing ourselves to a tourist in pink. She was running ahead of us, heading for Hidden Beach. We followed her as far as the edge of the woods, then I stopped, panting.

“How far was that?”

Brad checked his smartwatch. “Four hundred and ninety-two meters. So, the fun run will be like that, but ten times the fun.”

I sagged at that, and grabbed a tree for balance. Brad laughed, barely sweating. Not winded at all. I flicked his arm, incensed by his smugness.

“I’ve never seen you jog once. How aren’t you dying?”

He jogged on the spot, teasing, kicking his knees up.

“You don’t even have running shoes,” I said. “Don’t your feet hurt?”

He stopped kicking his knees up and looked down, lips pursed. “Now you mention it, yeah. They are kind of barking.”

I smirked at him, snatching my turn at smugness. “Let’s walk back down the beach so you can go barefoot. We’ll try again tomorrow when you’ve got proper shoes.”

Brad slung his arm around me and pretended to flag. “You might need to carry me.”

“Quit it, get off!”

He did a comedic stagger, dragging us off the sidewalk. I flapped at him for a moment, then he let me go. We laughed, and then I heard more laughter behind us. I whirled and saw Chester across the street, cooler in one hand, pole on his back. He waved.

“Having fun?”

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