Page 83 of The Billionaire Experience

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Reagan said, droll.

Dottie noticed Brody and did a double take. “Hey. You’re that writer. The wealthy one.”

“Brody Crane,” he introduced himself.

“That’s it! Oh my word, how exciting! Brody Crane in the flesh.”

“I’m over here, if you still care,” Ike muttered.

“Oh, stop it.” She waved him off. “I’m not going to run off with this one. He’s too young for me.” Her attention turned to Reagan next. “You must be Ike’s granddaughter. He speaks of you often. I have wanted to meet you for weeks.”

“Weeks?” Reagan sent an accusing glare at her grandfather, who started whistling. “He didn’t mention you.”

“By my request,” Dottie stated, unfazed. “I know you are protective of him. And your grandmother sounded like an amazing woman.”

“She was,” Reagan said, her tone softening.

“I am planning on staying with him for a few days.”

“You are?” Ike asked.

“Did you think you could text me that I nearly killed you and I’d simply wish you good luck?”

Brody snorted.

“Anyway. Would you mind bringing my suitcase inside, Brody?”

“Yes, ma’am.” It was official. He liked Dottie Danders.

“I know you have to work and don’t have time for this old codger,” Dottie was saying to Reagan when Brody returned with the suitcase.

“She’s traveling in the morning, and I’ve already taken up most of her night,” Ike said as he shuffled over to Dottie. “And don’t tell me I’m not allowed to walk. The hospital said I was fine. And to hydrate next time.” He winked at Dottie, who blushed.

“We’ll be more careful in the future. Thinks he’s Superman,” she said with a huff.

Reagan paled while Brody swallowed another laugh. Seriously. How fucking adorable were these two?

“At least get some sleep,” Brody said to Reagan. “You can decide in the morning if you’re going or not.”

“He’s in good hands,” Dottie promised Reagan.

“The best hands,” Ike lilted. He palmed Reagan’s shoulder. “Your job is not to make sure I don’t die, darlin’. Your job is to live life to the fullest. A charity ball in New York with a gentleman is exactly where you should be tomorrow night. You can call me on the videophone for proof of life.”

“I’ll text you updates,” Dottie promised. “But not too many. I agree with Ike. You should enjoy yourself. A ball, really?”

“An event,” Reagan corrected, appearing bemused by Dottie.

Brody could see why. The other woman was instantly likable. Good vibes emanated off her tall frame. “I’ve arranged a private jet. She can sleep in as long as she needs to.”

Dottie gasped. “The stuff of fairy tales!”

Brody didn’t know about the fairy tale part but wouldn’t deny that Reagan was owed some of the good stuff. From what he’d witnessed she mostly kept her head down and worked.

When Reagan was comfortable with leaving Ike and Dottie alone—as comfortable as she could be given the circumstances—Brody wasted no time maneuvering her toward his unmade bed. The sheets were thrown back from when they’d clambered out of it nearly four hours ago.

“I thought I was tired earlier. I’m exhausted.” She turned to leave his room. “I should crash in my own bed.”

“Disagree.” He physically turned her around. “Bed. Now.”

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