Page 14 of Faking It with my Small Town Billionaire

He left some time later, after I thanked him for checking in on me.

“Don’t forget to organize that meeting,” he said, as I pulled the door closed.

“Orson—”

“I’m serious, Lily. It’s like you said. If we want the town on board with these plans, we have to let them know what they are.”

Clearly, he was determined, so I contacted the other council members. We printed makeshift flyers and over the next few days, we pinned them around the town. Mrs. McKenzie suggested visiting some of the residents in the outlying areas, so we did that together.

In the meantime, Orson texted me. He’s persistent, that’s for sure. Have you organized a meeting yet?

Rolling my eyes, I texted him back. Yes, I have. Next Friday at seven p.m.

Friday. Really? That’s my only night off.

I couldn’t believe what I was reading, and quickly stabbing at the keyboard, I sent a reply.

What? And you couldn’t have mentioned this earlier? I have flyers printed. The whole town has seen them. What am I supposed to do?

His reply was immediate. Got you. There was a laughing emoji at the end of it.

Even though I wanted to kill him at that moment, I couldn’t help but smile. And then the frustration waned even more. So Mr. Donovan has a sense of humor. Go figure.

You’re not funny, you know, I texted back, even though I was smiling.

I am a little bit, he replied. Something distracted me from replying right away, and another text came through. Are you mad at me?

Not at all, I typed. But next time I make you coffee, I’m giving you decaf.

His next text was just a row of laughing emojis.

The time has flown by, and this evening, as I move to the back of the gym, my stomach is in knots. Orson has texted a few times throughout the week, and I’ve kept him in the loop of the town’s feelings. But I’m still not convinced this is a good idea.

If this all goes pear-shaped, it’s on my shoulders. I haven’t stopped feeling guilty for suggesting it. Clearly, Orson is as stubborn as he is rich. He refuses to back down, even though, for that tiniest second after I suggested it, he let his mask slip, and I witnessed how the idea appalled him. Or terrified him. One or the other.

So if the front page of tomorrow’s newspaper reports that billionaire Orson Donovan suffered a nervous breakdown in front of fifteen hundred people in the school he graduated from, that will be my fault.

Marvelous.

But of course, he proves me wrong.

Without a flicker of nerves or an ounce of doubt in his voice, Orson relays the plans for the town in the same manner as he relayed them to me. Confidently and with a dashing smile.

Yes, I’m relieved.

Partly because I don’t want to be blamed if the guy who is going to save our little town did have a nervous breakdown. But mostly because he did himself proud in front of all these people. Honestly, I don’t know how he did it. I don’t think I could have. There is even a round of applause at the end. I mean, a proper one.

But I’m still not sold on this “wanting to give back to the place he’s come from” malarkey. Even though, when he came to the bakery the other night in my hour of need, he stayed to that same script. Of course, I have no other explanation. I mean, the man is a billionaire. If he didn’t want to be here, he wouldn’t be, right? And yet…

As I mingle after the meeting is over, I watch Orson talking to the residents of Willow Creek. He’s smooth, I’ll give him that, but he also looks genuine, like he does actually care. Maybe there is hope for Willow Creek after all.

He approaches me later with a knowing smile on his face. It makes him look really hot, but I’m not going to mention that to him.

“Not the disaster you thought it was going to be?” he says. His eyebrows are high on that tall forehead, while the corner of his mouth curls into a half-smile.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I reply, feigning utter ignorance.

He lets out a light chuckle. “You don’t have much confidence in me, do you, Lily Harper?”

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