Page 8 of The Billionaire Experience

“Anything.”

“Anything? They’re the most famous family in town. Do you live under a rock?”

“No, but as I’m not living anywhere at the moment, that might be a good place to consider.”

Kelly snorted over her steaming mug. “They’re like local Kardashians if you read the gossip websites. I worked a few charities in town, so I have seen Elijah Crane in person.” She trilled her tongue, making a soft purring sound. “He’s hot.”

“I’ve seen photos, and you’re not wrong.” Reagan smiled. Kelly was in the catering industry, which had placed her front and center with wealthy—and sometimes famous—people. “I do know that he started a charity that fixes up houses for veterans who are in wheelchairs or have prosthetics.”

“Well, look at you.” Kelly gave her a proud grin.

“I like when rich people are charitable. It makes them more tolerable. Maybe that’s what Brody Crane is doing in Ike’s house—outfitting it for someone else.”

“Wait. Back up. Brody Crane?”

Reagan poured a dollop of low-fat milk into her coffee and then came to sit at the kitchen table with Kelly. “Yeah. The guy who bought the house.”

“The guy who bought your grandfather’s house is Brody Crane?”

“Yes.” Reagan laughed. “Why do you keep saying his name?”

“Only because he’s a bestselling author who is living a posh existence in NYC. Or was, anyway. Why would he move to Merriweather?” Kelly’s face scrunched as she reached for her laptop.

“That’s why I wondered if he was redoing the house for Eli’s charity.”

Kelly hummed in thought, her fingers flying over the keys. “That doesn’t make any sense.” She stopped typing, her eyes flitting over the screen. “Says here he’s going to write a follow-up book to Billionaire on the Run.”

Reagan leaned in to study the screen.

“He’s a bestselling author. I’m not much for reading books about men bragging on their own pursuits, but this one got a lot of attention. Enough that the publisher wanted another book from him.” Kelly swiveled the laptop. Next to a graphic of the book cover was Brody’s headshot.

Reagan couldn’t take her eyes off the inset photo of Brody. In the picture, his hair was neat, not messy like it’d been the other day. He was sitting on a stool, leaning forward, his elbows balanced on his knees. No smile, which gave her an unobstructed view of the mustache-scruff combo. He wore it well, but it was his eyes that had her attention. They were locked on the viewer and warm in color—in between golden brown and hazel.

“Wow.” Reagan cleared her throat and tried to ignore the trickle of unexpected lust that seeped into her bloodstream. “A bestselling writer.” She dragged her gaze from the screen to find her best friend staring at her. “What?”

“You’re drooling.”

Reagan absently reached up and swiped the corner of her lips.

“It’s okay to admit he’s gorgeous. He is. All the Cranes are. I know it’s been a minute since you were attracted to a guy other than Dustin, but it wasn’t as if you two were a fire couple.”

“What do you mean?” Reagan hadn’t meant to sound defensive. There was no reason to be defensive. She and Dustin had split amicably. They were still friends. Sort of. They’d lost touch after he’d moved. Kelly had made a valid point. Reagan and Dustin had never been a “fire” couple, whatever that meant. If pressed, she wasn’t sure she could accurately describe anything between them as having been on fire…or smoking, for that matter.

“You don’t need a waiting period before you start dating someone else, you know.”

“Who said anything about dating?” Not Reagan. She’d just exited a relationship.

“You two had been growing apart for months before he took that job in Missouri.” Kelly’s voice shifted into Bitter Divorcee to add, “At least he didn’t cheat on you with his twenty-two-year-old personal assistant.”

“I’m not sure Dustin wanted one girlfriend, let alone two,” Reagan said for the first time out loud. He had never been unkind, but he hadn’t gone out of his way to make her feel loved or seen or heard, especially at the end of their relationship. They’d lived completely separate lives together. The only thing that seemed to excite him was his work. She debated silently for a few seconds before sharing, “He wasn’t exactly a tiger in the bedroom.”

“What? No! Are you—are you, Reagan Palmer, talking about sex? Can we talk about sex? Please?” Her best friend’s excitement was palpable, and sort of cute. Reagan wasn’t a prude about the topic, especially with her bestie, but she hadn’t shared details about Dustin. She hadn’t had much to report, quite frankly. Part of her must have known that sharing would have tipped off how badly things had deteriorated between them.

“We lacked sizzle,” she admitted, because that was fair. “Not only were we not a fire couple, I don’t remember a single spark. There must have been one at the beginning, though, right?” That felt like eons ago instead of a handful of years.

Instead of being angry like Kelly, Reagan had felt more disappointment when the relationship ended. She and Dustin had deserved better. She’d deserved someone who hadn’t prioritized a job in St. Louis over his live-in girlfriend, and he’d deserved someone who refused to accept second place in his life.

One of them should have spoken up sooner. The house they’d shared was a sparkling, clutter-free example of perfection, but their relationship with each other had been steadily eroding.

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