Page 14 of The Billionaire Experience

Oops. So much for keeping her cards close to the chest.

She turned around. “Jean mentioned it.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m happy to pay you to look around. Name your price. I’m a city guy in the suburbs. I’m kind of desperate.”

“That’s apparent.”

Unoffended, his smile only widened. “I don’t expect you to teach me a masterclass. All I need to know is what’s out of my scope to do myself. And anything I can’t handle, I will hire you to handle for me. As long as you let me watch.”

She opened her mouth to tell him where he could shove that weirdo fantasy.

“I didn’t mean that like it sounded.” He held up a hand as if he could keep her from leaving. “I’m eager to learn, but I don’t know what I don’t know. So if you could show me—or point me to the right YouTube video…”

Miraculously, he pulled another reluctant smile out of her.

“Seems to me we’ve answered each other’s prayers. I happen to need an expert on house repair, and you needed me to save your favorite tree from certain annihilation.”

She sort of hated how charming he could be after stealing her house out from under her. Granted, she was unfairly taking that part out on him. The affable way he was handling her mild temper was strangely inviting.

“Swear on your family crest that you will not chop down my maple tree—erm, that maple tree.” The electric chainsaw started up, and her body tensed.

“I swear I won’t have it cut down, and if Alberto takes so much as an inch more off that tree than is necessary, I’ll have his license.” He pursed his lips in thought. “Do tree guys have licenses?”

She bit her bottom lip, her resolve melting like the ice cream in the back of her truck. Crap. The ice cream. “I’ll have to come by later. I have groceries in the back of my truck. My ice cream is probably starting to melt.”

“What kind of ice cream?”

“Chocolate peanut butter.”

“We could have ice cream instead of beer.”

“No deal. It’s a pint. Serves one.”

“I respect that math. I have a freezer, you know.”

“A working one?”

That same grin from earlier was back, transforming Brody Crane from a mild pain in the ass to a knee-weakening rogue. “I’m no expert, but I have ice, so I think so.”

She inhaled deeply as she considered her options. If she took a look around, she could also make sure the tree guy didn’t get too chainsaw-happy.

“I happen to have an extra hour in my schedule today. Why not?”

“It’s a deal.” He offered his hand and she accepted. Warm fingers closed around hers. “You Reagan?” His eyes flicked over her shoulder to her truck where a sign on the door read Reagan’s Repairs.

“A lot of people call me Ray.”

“I’m not a lot of people, Reagan.” He gave her hand a final, gentle squeeze. “Grab that ice cream. I’ll show you around.”

When he’d seen Reagan from across the street the other day, he’d been distracted by the blond hair, full pink lips, and long legs. He’d thought about her a couple of times since then and had wondered what color her eyes were. Green, as it turned out.

She was tall. Not as tall as him, but close. She was dressed similarly to the first time he’d seen her, in jeans and a T-shirt, a pair of Converse, and the same leather jacket. He’d learned that along with being gorgeous, she was ballsy and unafraid to speak her mind.

Who had the nerve to storm up to someone they didn’t know and demand they didn’t cut down their own tree? Not that he’d complain about the fire in her eyes. Passion was a good look on her.

As he followed her through his newly purchased three-bedroom home, he also learned that a lot of know-how was packed inside that blond head of hers. Evidently, she’d been introduced into the world of fixing stuff through the grandfather she’d mentioned earlier. She had rattled off a list of necessary repairs he hadn’t noticed before she’d pointed them out. She had a good eye, that was for damn sure.

“Interesting vocation for a woman,” he said as they took the basement stairs to the lower level. He nearly crashed into her when she stopped on the bottom step to look up at him.

---