Page 6 of The Undercover Billionaire's Baby

“I’m Sa— uh, Brad.” He cleared his throat. “Tripped over my tongue there. Let me try that again. I’m Brad, pleased to meet you. Your room sounds perfect.”

“It is a great room.” I tried not to babble. “It faces east, so it’s bright in the mornings. But I can hang curtains if you like to sleep late. Oh, and it includes utilities, heat, TV, water. So, it’s not huge, but?—”

“It sounds great. Do you have time today for me to come see it?”

I froze for a moment, tongue-tied myself. Was I really going to meet this man, a total stranger? I’d never lived with a man before, even in college. Why hadn’t I made Alice specify female? Would it be weird if I changed my mind now?

“I’m sorry,” said Brad. “Was I being too pushy? Maybe you had some questions you’d like to ask me? Last time I had a roommate was way back in college, and he was assigned to me, so I’m new to all this.”

Alice made an aww sound. I waved her off.

“No, no, you’re good. You’re not being pushy. I was just trying to think when would be good to meet you.”

“I can do any time, the sooner the better.”

I thought for a second. “How about four-ish?” That way Alice would still be around, and I could get her opinion before I let him move in. If Brad pinged her creep radar, she could warn me off.

“Four-ish sounds great.” I could hear the smile in Brad’s voice. When I hung up, I was smiling myself. Alice was clapping.

“See how easy that was?”

“Easy?” I whirled. “I still have to meet him.”

“But he sounds cute.”

“How can anyone sound cute?” He kind of had, though, a deep, pleasant voice with a masculine rumble. Steady and confident, but not cocky or rude. And what was I thinking? I wasn’t looking to date him. Just find a lodger, just?—

“You’re blushing!” Alice was pointing. I smacked her hand away.

“Get back to work.”

But when I glanced in the window, my reflection was glowing, pink-cheeked and flustered. A total mess. I sent up a quick prayer he wouldn’t be cute, or at least not as cute as his voice made him seem. No one would sublet from some blushing fool… and if he didn’t, my future was bleak.

CHAPTER 3

SAM

I’d ended up in Haverford mostly by chance, five days into Dad’s wild goose chase. My plan had been simple, to get on my feet: drive out of Boston till the motel rooms got cheap, then turn one into my short-term workshop. And I’d done that and gone straight on Craigslist, and bought up old nightstands, old tables and chairs. Small, simple furnishings I could refinish and flip. I sold a twenty-buck coffee table for close to two hundred, a pair of matched nightstands for eighty each. By day three I was up to eight hundred, almost ready to scout some more permanent lodging.

That was when the call came in for my mosaic-top table. I’d added the mosaic top myself, mostly for fun, and I was pretty proud of the way it’d come out. But not twelve hundred dollars proud, which was what was on offer. All I had to do was take the ferry to Haverford. Schlep my little table to their craftsmen’s bazaar. I didn’t have much else to do, so I figured why not? I brought an end table as well, and a little hope chest, again thinking why not? Might sell those too.

The bazaar had been busy, and I’d been right. I’d sold all I’d brought and come away with a bonus pie, a luscious peach cobbler to sweeten the deal. I was sitting on a street bench watching the town go by, eating my cobbler, when I had a thought: why not move here? Do the challenge on hard mode?

Haverford was pricey, an upscale tourist town. I’d be paying a premium to live by the beach. But the bazaar could be good for me while I planned my next move. And I could rub my success in Dad’s face: not only could I thrive without the aid of his wealth, I could do it in an enclave of the island rich.

Now, a day later, I was back with no pie and a new mission: find a cheap room. Well, cheap for Haverford, but I felt good. I’d found a place downtown, near the bazaar, priced four hundred dollars below the next-cheapest. And the landlady seemed sweet, if a bit scattered. I decided to walk from my B&B to meet her, get a sense of the town on my way over.

I was passing a bakery with a striped awning when I heard someone shouting. “Brad! Hey, Brad!” I cast about instinctively the way you do, searching for Brad. Then it hit me. That’s me.

“Brad? Is that you?”

I turned around, smiling. A red-faced woman was running toward me, a spoon in one hand, a bowl in the other. “Sorry, sorry. You must be thinking, who’s this?”

I was, but there were only so many options. “Didn’t I see you at the bazaar yesterday?”

“That’s right. I’m Orla.” She dropped her spoon in her bowl and stuck out her hand. “I spotted you yesterday selling a table to Margie, and I must say, I love it. You’ve got a real gift. Will you be back again, at the bazaar?”

I shook her hand. “Yeah, I’ll be here a while. Which days are busy?”

---