Page 16 of The Billionaire Experience

He gestured to the front door. “After you.”

She set her bottle on top of the cast iron patio table and lowered herself onto one of the uncomfortable matching chairs. They were outfitted with the same sad excuses for cushions that neither Reagan nor her grandfather had bothered swapping out for softer ones. Her grandfather said he would have taken the patio set to the new condo if they hadn’t weighed “as much as my old Buick.”

“Is the news that bad?” Brody asked as he sat on his own deflated cushion.

“What do you mean?”

“Your eyebrows.” He twirled a fingertip in her general direction. “They are communicating dismay.”

She offered a bashful smile. “I was thinking of the things I’ve neglected to do and wondering if I’m growing senile at twenty-nine.”

“Forgetfulness is a common trait in creatives.”

“You talk like a writer.” She picked up her beer bottle. His gaze zeroed in on her once again. He didn’t look at her in a lecherous way, more studied her in a curious way. She wondered what he would write about her if asked.

“Did Jean Google me? Or did you?” He sent a glance over to the house across the street. There was a reflection on the windows but beyond them, Reagan thought she saw the ghostly visage of an old lady who couldn’t mind her own business.

“Neither. My best friend Kelly did. She says the Cranes are like Chicago’s Kardashians.”

“Are you keeping up with us?”

“I don’t keep up with much of anything, save my work.” She heard the heaviness of her tone, and he must’ve too. A shadow of seriousness crossed his handsome face. She refused to feel sorry for herself. The situation she found herself in was her own doing. “Kelly showed me a website with your book cover on it. I may have noticed the words New York Times Bestseller.”

“Yeah. First book too. I never was sure if I earned that title or if it was thanks to the marketing machine that promoted me.” He sucked in a deep breath. It sounded like there was more to come, but when he spoke next, he changed the subject. “Okay, let’s hear the damage. What’s it going to cost me, either in time or money, to make this place livable?”

It was already livable, but a billionaire likely had higher expectations than she had when she’d lived here. Looking through the house with him earlier, she’d spotted glaringly obvious fixes she’d been overlooking for years. Peeling paint, chipped door frames. The thermostat was badly in need of updating. When she’d lived here, she’d prioritized her customers’ houses over taking the time to update this one. She felt sort of bad about it now, like she’d neglected the home Betty had kept pristine in her living years.

Shaking off the sad thought, she opened an app on her phone and pecked in an invoice. As she listed the numerous items that needed attention, she was aware of two things: the sucking sound of Brody pulling beer past his pursed lips, and the fact that he watched her with heightened interest usually reserved for guys who were checking her out.

But that couldn’t be right. She’d seen for herself the beautiful dark-haired woman staying with him. No way would he be flirting with Reagan.

“Will your girlfriend want to look over the list as well?” she asked not-so-smoothly.

His voice lilted with amusement. “Girlfriend?”

He didn’t seem the marrying type, but nonetheless she asked, “Wife? I noticed a woman over here the last time I was at Jean’s. I just assumed.”

“Rings, dark hair, drapey, flowy clothing?”

“Yes.”

“That’s Jaylyn Crane. My sister.”

“Ohhh.” She gave herself a moment to absorb that information before turning back to her phone. A strange sense of relief came with the revelation that Brody Crane was single. “So, no girlfriend.”

“Not at the moment. Jaylyn is staying with me for a few weeks because she delights in inserting herself into her brothers’ lives. My oldest brother, Zander, moved here a few months back and she showed up on his doorstep to keep him in line. Now it’s my turn.”

“Is she older than you?”

“Younger. By a significant amount, but she’s the only girl, so she takes her mothering seriously.”

“How many of you are there?”

“Four. Zander, me, my younger brother Dante, and J.”

“You are like the Kardashians. What about the hotelier Cranes?”

“Reese, Tag, and Eli are my cousins. Their dad, Alex ‘Big’ Crane, is my uncle.”

---