Page 38 of The Billionaire Experience

“Those two things aren’t mutually exclusive. And you know exactly how approachable I am after Friday night.”

She pulled out a small wooden chest from the box, her lips twisting in thought. “You’re talking about the kiss.”

“Did you think I forgot?”

“Of course not.”

“Did you forget?”

“No. Come on. I have what I came for.” She tucked the box beneath her arm. It was about the size of a shoebox. There were deep scars in the wood and a glob of adhesive on top that hadn’t kept hold of whatever ornament used to decorate the lid.

She gestured for him to step out of the unit before locking up. When they reached her truck, she popped the top of the box open and showed him its contents. “My collection. Don’t be jealous.”

He was greeted by a pile of rings, watches, necklaces, and gold coins—of the plastic, gumball-machine variety.

“I’m impressed.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re making fun of me, but I asked for it.”

“Not making fun of you.” He picked out a ring with a massive purple plastic jewel in the center and turned it in the sunlight. “How did you come to acquire such riches?”

With a soft laugh, she closed the box and tucked it under her arm again. He handed her the ring, which she placed on her left ring finger. “This was my mom’s jewelry box. She pawned every piece of real jewelry she ever owned. Even the gold-plated decoration on the lid.”

“That explains the blob of glue.”

“She pawned my grandmother’s engagement ring too. She’s not with us anymore, so that sucks.”

“I’m sorry.” He could hear the regret in Reagan’s voice. He hated that for her. “That does suck.”

“Ronnie Palmer liked to gamble and didn’t know when to stop. When I was about ten years old, I saw her chuck this box into the trash. So, I pulled it out and decided that I would fill it to the brim with jewelry she couldn’t pawn. Jewelry no one but me would want.” Reagan smoothed her hand over the lid of the jewelry box, the plastic ring still on her finger. “Knowing it’s full, even full of plastic, feels so much better than it sitting empty.”

He felt like she’d tied a slipknot around his heart. The tug in his chest brought with it a hefty dose of nostalgia for his own childhood. His father had never squandered money or jewelry, but wanting to connect with him had been a very real need when Brody was a kid.

“My dad gave me the lucky coin when I was thirteen. He traveled for business in multiple countries, so whenever he went, I’d beg to go with him. He took me on a lot of adventures, which I loved.”

“You’ve always been a traveler.”

“Yeah. Always.” His smile faded. “When I got older and lived with my mom, I realized what was missing. The deals Dad brokered during those trips were the star of the show. A lot of times, I was at the hotel with a nanny doing my homework. I guess holding on to the coin was my way of having him close whenever he wasn’t physically there.”

He cleared his throat, instantly aware that what he’d shared with Reagan wasn’t something he’d put into words before. Not for his siblings or his dad, or even himself. Uncomfortable, he palmed the back of his neck and deflected with, “Poor rich kid, right?”

She pushed to her toes and feathered a kiss on the side of his mouth. Before he could recover from that tender surprise, she cocked her chin toward the truck and said, “Come on, rich kid. We have work to do.”

CHAPTER TEN

Reagan had stopped in the middle of her closet project to attend to a customer emergency—an actual emergency this time. Pete Baxter’s basement had flooded courtesy of a burst pipe. It seemed he’d forgotten to detach his garden hose over the winter. When he turned on the water to sprinkle his lawn today, boom!—leak.

Pete’s out-of-state grandson had called around for a plumber, but no one could make it to the house until next week. Not ideal unless Pete wanted to take up swimming in the basement. Reagan couldn’t repair a pipe, but she could triage. She had shut off the valve, mopped up the mess, and set up a box fan to dry the utility room floor.

It’d taken her longer to do that seemingly simple task than she’d anticipated. And after a full day of shopping and working, she was exhausted, with soggy socks and a headache blooming behind one eye.

She pulled into a drive-thru to pick up dinner and realized she’d rushed out of Brody’s house and had left her wallet behind, alongside her phone. In her pocket were the same coins from earlier—not enough to buy a plastic bauble—and her truck’s change compartment held exactly eighteen cents. Even the dollar menu was out of reach for her tonight.

She growled in the back of her throat, and her stomach joined the choir. It took her forty minutes to drive back to Brody’s house. By the time she climbed out of the truck, she didn’t know if she was too hungry to sleep or too sleepy to eat.

“You forgot your phone,” he said when he met her at the door. “Noticed after you left but I couldn’t unlock it. Otherwise, I would have found out where you were and brought it to you.”

“That was thoughtful.”

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