Page 13 of The Billionaire Experience

Reagan understood why he’d think that. The only other time he’d seen her was when she’d stepped out of Jean’s house. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that Ike was her grandfather, but she didn’t know if she could trust Brody Crane not to rat her out. The last thing Ike needed was to worry about Betty’s tree.

“She’s not a relative, but she is a friend. And a customer. I have a lot of friends who are customers on this street. I’m a repairwoman.”

“Really.” His eyes narrowed in apparent interest. “What do you repair?”

She lifted one shoulder into a shrug. “Pretty much anything, as long as it’s minor and doesn’t require a permit.”

“Leaks? Creaky floorboards?” He raised an eyebrow. “Kitchen sinks?”

A smile tickled the corner of her mouth as she recalled him tossing a kitchen sink onto his front yard. “All of those.”

“Really,” he repeated.

“I’ll swing back by, ma’am.” The tree guy waved to Jean with his clipboard and returned to Brody’s yard. The stitched name tag on his work shirt read Alberto. “Your neighbor’s something else,” he told Brody. “If you want to sign this, I can put you on the schedule for tree removal. Might not be until early next week, but we’ll fit you in.”

Reagan’s mind raced. There had to be another point she could make that would convince him not to?—

“Actually, I’ve decided to keep it.”

Alberto glanced at Reagan who offered an uncertain smile.

“She convinced me to keep it. What can I do?” Brody thrust both hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shrugged.

Alberto narrowed his eyes as if to say Cut it down, that’s what you can do. But instead, he said, “Is she opposed to me lopping off the dead branches?”

“You’ll have to ask her.” Brody turned to Reagan for an answer, and she grew warm under his full attention. Those golden-brown eyes that had captivated her in his headshot online were more captivating in person.

“Um, yeah. That would be fine.” When Alberto moved toward his truck, she quickly added, “As long as they’re small.”

“Small. Got it.” Alberto gave her a thumbs-up.

“Gate’s open,” Brody told him.

Alberto nodded and returned to his truck for a pair of loppers and an electric chainsaw. Then he walked down the driveway and disappeared into the backyard. Brody turned toward her expectantly.

“I assume I won’t have to give the tree three days’ notice for the branches being trimmed. Isn’t that more like a haircut?”

“I guess so,” she said slowly, not sure what he meant. “You didn’t need my permission, you know. It’s your house. Your tree. Out of curiosity, what changed your mind? The bit about how they communicate, or the oxygen thing?”

“You had me at ‘I love that tree.’”

She didn’t need a mirror to know she was grinning at him. He’d just referenced Jerry Maguire, one of her favorite movies. She might not live at 388 Maplebrook any longer, but at least her grandmother’s tree would live to see another spring. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

“Aaand”—he drew out the word—“I won’t change my mind if you do me a favor.”

Her hope-in-humanity balloon popped. “Now you’re blackmailing me?”

“Not blackmailing you. I need advice on this house. It’s my first. Merriweather Springs popped my suburbia cherry.” His mouth pulled down as if he was rethinking that metaphor. She pressed her lips together to keep from laughing since it was actually sort of funny. “I’ll offer you a beer for your trouble.”

A beer? No way would she allow him to undercut her. Like Kelly said, she should overcharge him. He certainly had the means.

“You expect me to distill everything my grandfather taught me into layman’s terms and then take a beer as payment? My time is worth more than a can of PBR.”

“I have light beer if you’re not a PBR fan.”

“Good day, Mr. Crane.”

“You know my name.”

---