Page 52 of The Billionaire Land Baron

“That’s my ride,” he said slowly.

Shelby whipped her head toward him. “Your ride to where?”

He pulled the Jeep up in front of her house and parked. Turning toward her, he said, “I’m leaving tonight, Shelby. I’ve got to get to L’Auberge. For work.”

She stared at him. “Sure you do.”

“I do. I wish…”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” Shelby tried to channel her anger. It was a much more familiar and comfortable emotion than heartbreak and she leaned into it, grateful for the relief it brought.

“Can I just—”

“No.” She held up both hands. “Don’t. Whatever you were going to say, it doesn’t matter. Because you’re leaving. Just go.”

She threw open the door to the Jeep and marched up to her front porch.

“Shelby, wait!”

She spun around, almost to the door. “No! You don’t get to talk to me. You waltz in here and make me feel things and let me kiss you and then say it would be ridiculous to start something with someone you just met. Leaving is exactly what you should do. Live up your secret Chicago business life, Jake.”

She would have loved to slam the door, but she didn’t want to alert her daddy to her emotional state. The last thing she needed was to have a conversation about this.

On the other side of the front door, when she desperately tried to suck back in the tears that were overflowing, Shelby considered that she was overreacting. Just a bit. Like, a lot of a little bit. This was a preemptive strike to guard her heart as he left. She felt small and humiliated. What was ridiculous was Shelby thinking that she meant something to him. She wasn’t enough to make him stay.

A few minutes later she heard the crunch of gravel as the dark SUV rolled away.

He was always going to leave. You knew that.

But the knowing didn’t soften the reality. Not enough. She pressed her knuckles to her lips and focused on breathing.

When Shelby felt sure that she could speak in coherent sentences without crumbling, she walked into the family room where her father was asleep in his chair. He stirred as she set down a fresh glass of water.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Still early. Is this a late nap or early bedtime, Daddy?”

“Bit of both. How was your day? Want to sit and talk to your old man?”

Her heart squeezed at this question. It had been a long time since he’d asked her to sit and talk. They talked every day, of course, but not like in a sit down and share-your-life kind of way. Of course he’d pick today.

“I’d love to sit with you. Talk? Ask me tomorrow. Or in a week.”

He grabbed her hand as she sat on the nearby couch. “Something wrong? Do I need to get my gun?”

She sighed. “No, Daddy. Be cool.”

“It’s that red-headed fool out in the trailer. I shoulda known when he tried to swim with T-Ball that there was something wrong with him.”

A choked laugh came from her throat. “Jake didn’t do anything, Daddy. He just left.”

Shelby thought all her tears had been spent in the few minutes she sat in the front hallway with her back against the door. Now they threatened again, only worse, because she was in front of her daddy.

“Sweet girl.” He stood up, unsteady on one leg, and used his prosthetic as a crutch as he hopped over to sit beside her on the couch, pulling her close so his chin rested on the top of her head.

This sent the tears over the top of the dam. Her daddy loved her. She had never doubted it. But she did not remember the last time he had held her close like this and been her protector. This had been her role for the last number of years, or at least, she had felt like it had to be. Maybe she took on too much there too.

Shelby was starting to feel like the life she had built here for the last ten years had been nothing but a façade. In the last three days, layer by layer had peeled away and she didn’t know how much more she could take.

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