Page 7 of Faking It with my Small Town Billionaire

She thrusts out a hand and gives me that wide smile again. “Jasmine Miller, Mr. Donovan. A pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” I reply, enjoying her strong grip. “You’re new to the town, aren’t you?”

The woman’s smile widens, though I didn’t think it possible. “I moved to Willow Creek about six years ago, just after my husband died. My boys and I needed a new start.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say, genuinely meaning it. She couldn’t be much more than forty-five, which is young to lose a husband.

“Thank you, sir. It was difficult at first, but it’s the best move I ever made. And this special woman right here”—she nods towards Lily, who is busy returning the tables to their normal places now that everyone has left—“has been my savior.”

“I think that’s going a bit too far, Jasmine,” Lily replies, a little breathless from her efforts.

“Clearly, you’re good friends,” I say.

“More than good friends,” Jasmine replies. “She’s my boss.” I’m a little taken aback by that news. “Which means, Mr. Donovan, that you are my new best friend.” She beams up at me. “In fact, I think the Lord sent you himself.”

I’m flattered, if a little speechless; not really knowing what to say, I thank her. By this time, Lily Harper is standing beside her best friend and employee.

“It was an interesting meeting, Miss Harper.”

She rolls her eyes. “You could say that.”

I smile and say, “Well, I should get going, too. But I do hope your fiery disposition will come in useful for the future plans of the town.”

She gives me a half-smile. “You have your work cut out for you, Mr. Donovan. These town folk won’t be easy to please.”

“Yes. I can see that. But then, they never were. I look forward to seeing you both again soon.”

The women wave goodbye, and I leave the bakery, kicking myself for letting that last comment slip. I can count on one hand the number of times I have let my emotions slip into a project or contract. It’s something I just don’t do. But then, this is not a run-of-the-mill project, is it? I’m back here, facing ghosts of a past I never thought I would need to revisit.

Even with all my calming tactics and appeasements, the room was still full of doubtful faces. It’s fairly clear that meeting my grandfather’s ultimatum is going to require all the wit, charm, and tenacity I can muster.

4

Lily

It took me ages to fall asleep last night, even though I was exhausted. But as weary as I was, I just couldn’t get Orson Donovan out of my mind. And it’s not just because he looked like he had walked out of a photoshoot for Men’s Health. Though he certainly had my blood pumping as he stood there, completely composed and confident, facing plenty of people who had made his life miserable.

But I think that’s what was irking me. It’s still irking me this morning, and I’ve already been up for hours. I just can’t seem to get this niggling feeling out of my head. It’s like an unreachable itch that I can’t scratch.

Of course, since we started work this morning, Jasmine hasn’t shut up about him, either.

“My, my, he is a fine man. If I were ten years younger,” she says, grinning at me and raising her eyebrows knowingly.

“Maybe he likes an older woman,” I quip back.

“Oh, no, girl. And besides”—she gestures to her curvy figure—“I think I’d just be too much woman for that man.” She then throws her head back and bursts into laughter.

Jasmine has this fantastic laugh that emanates from the soles of her feet. It’s loud, and deep, and genuine. It’s also entirely infectious, which is why I find myself laughing along with her.

Busily placing the order that just arrived out on the shelf behind me, she says, “He’s a savior, that’s for sure. That man is just what this town needs. My heart tells me that Mr. Donovan is going to do some real good around here.”

But as I listen to her, I’m not so sure. To look at him, as he strode in here last night, his back straight, his broad shoulders taking up half the room, you couldn’t imagine he was the same hounded boy that used to live here. There has certainly been a huge transformation. And yet…

“What is it?” Jasmine says, gazing at me with her inquisitive eyes. “I can see your mind working overtime.”

“I don’t know. Something just feels off.”

Jasmine’s brow furrows. “What do you mean, off? You think the man is lying?” She turns to give me her full attention.

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