Page 72 of The Billionaire Love Match

TWENTY-ONE

Colt caught himselfwhistling. Whistling and smiling, tapping the steering wheel and driving faster than the speed limit. When traffic didn’t slow him down, of course. Today, he didn’t even mind the traffic. Other than being exhausted, he was feeling, to quote Tombstone, just capital.

His night before had consisted of taking the ring in and out of its box. He couldn’t wait to see it on Casey’s finger. He also finished up one of Casey’s novels on his phone’s e-reader app. He hadn’t intended to stay up all night reading and in fact had not done that since maybe high school. But he couldn’t stop once he started, laughing through the chapters of her cozy mystery, a whodunit packed with wit and endearing characters. She was quite good, despite all the one-star reviews from the trolls who watched the show. He wondered how they might adapt to film.

He touched the ring in his pocket. The box sat in the cup holder of his car, but he wanted to touch the ring itself, the smooth platinum band and the cushion-cut sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds. On the inside of the band, he’d had them engrave “I love you” in Morse code. The jeweler looked at him like he had lost his mind and that made him laugh out loud. The passenger in the car next to him at the stoplight rolled up her window.

Colt wasn’t going to propose, not today. But soon. As soon as the cameras were gone and he and Casey could spend more than one dinner alone. He was sure about this, more sure than he’d been about anything. But he couldn’t do it with the stink of the show clinging to them.

His phone rang. “Hey, mom. I’m five minutes out from location.”

“Good. I’m in the trailer waiting and just wanted to...well. We should talk.”

“You okay, mom? You sound upset. Did I do something again to wreck the show?”

She sighed. “You’re fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. I just need to show you something, okay?”

“Alright. Be there in five.”

Colt zipped into a parking space a few minutes later. For this final day of shooting, they had rented a private home in Malibu with a flat grass expanse and infinity pool that overlooked the Pacific. Too bad he wasn’t really going to propose. The view was incredible. Maybe...

No. He would not do it for the cameras. For his mother.

He needed to do this for him and for Casey.

Colt put the ring back into the velvet case and snapped it shut, tucking it into his pocket as he stood. His whistling turned to humming and he opened the trailer door.

“Mother,” he said, giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

Immediately he could see that she did not look like herself. For one, she was drinking, which she almost never did. Something clear with ice. Vodka? The cubes rattled in the glass as her hand trembled slightly. She looked at her hand, as though confused as to why it wouldn’t obey her.

“Colton,” she said, setting the drink down. “I’m so glad to see you. Could you give us a minute?” The hairstylist nodded to Colt and headed outside.

Colt sat in the chair, swiveling it around to face her. “So, tell me. What’s got you drinking vodka in the middle of a perfectly gorgeous afternoon, mother?”

She touched her hair. “Oh. It’s nothing. Really.”

“You called me. And send the stylist out. You’re drinking. These things add up to something, not nothing. Just spill.”

His mother pressed her lips together and nodded, then dug into her bag and pulled out a folder. “Here,” she said. “Just...look at this.”

Colt flipped through the pages of some kind of contract. He snapped the folder shut. “Enlighten me. I don’t do legalese.”

“It’s just...well. It’s a contract that would give Casey $50,000 if she says yes to a proposal.”

He felt that like a punch in the gut. While his mind was reeling, Colt’s mouth moved, his practiced cool look taking over. “Who says I was going to propose today?”

“I didn’t know if you were,” she said. “Remember, I gave you the final say here. But there was just something off about her. So I pulled her in for a little chat. Don’t worry—she didn’t know I was me. Your mom, I mean. Not until the end, after she’d signed. We just offered the contract, put it out there. You know, to see what she’d say.”

“It’s called entrapment.”

“Colton, don’t be difficult. I just wanted to know. I could see how you felt about her and it seemed like she felt the same way about you. But you know how women are always after you for your money.”

Colt traced through this conversation in his mind, rolling it back. His mother offered Casey money to marry him. Casey signed a contract saying she would say yes and take a big payout. She had talked several times on the show about growing her following and getting something out of the show. Could he have been so blind?

The folder felt like it was burning in his hand. He tossed it back to his mother, who missed it. The papers scattered on the floor. She bent to pick them up and the sight of her back, bent over the floor, made him feel incredibly sad for her. Perhaps for the first time since right after his father’s funeral, when he’d heard her crying behind the closed master bedroom doors. At seventeen, he didn’t know what he should do. Go in? Pretend he hadn’t heard? He had walked away and shut himself in his own room.

Now, at twenty-five, he bent to help her, one hand on her back. “Let me,” he said. She nodded and stood, hand reaching instinctively for the vodka.

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