Page 1 of Her Older Billionaire

Chapter 1

Hannah

My hand hesitates over the nachos. An instinctual response as a curvy woman wearing a white dress in a bar. “Fuck it,” I mutter and grab a chip drenched in melted cheese. The dress is going in the trash anyway. No way am I ever wearing it again, and I don’t want to pass its bad mojo to anyone else.

I signal the bartender for another margarita. Right now, I should have been settling into a cozy bed and breakfast with my new husband, not drinking by myself in a hotel bar. At least the drinks are heavy on the booze. The bartender may have been extra generous, given my situation.

Not that I plan on getting drunk. I just need a little down time to process what just happened.

My fiance left me at the altar.

The jackass.

Not that I’m entirely surprised. Things haven’t been great between Dennis and me for a while. He’s only been coming over once a week for the last six weeks. I’d excused it as pre-marital nerves, but deep down, something was obviously wrong. I just haven’t wanted to admit it. I’ve been so tired of being alone.

Now, here I sit in my wedding dress, hair coiffed, makeup on point, wondering where it all went wrong.

My phone dings with another notification and I turn it on silent. It’s been going crazy for the last few hours. The only people I might possibly want to talk to are my best friends, Daisy, Piper, and Allie. But I already messaged them that I need a little time to myself. And a few drinks. I’m pretty sure the only reason I got away with it is I promised Allie I’d come to her place later.

At least the hotel bar is nice. It’s on the bottom floor of an historic downtown building. Chandeliers are set into the recessed ceiling overhead, providing a pleasant, ambient light throughout the room. The furniture is plush and comfortable. And the wall behind the bar is exposed brick, lined with a good selection of booze. Comfy seats, good booze, understated but elegant decor. What more could I possibly need?

Just as I think that, the lights dim and music starts to play. It’s later than I thought if they’re making the transition for the evening crowd. Actually, the bar is getting a bit crowded. I’m surprised the seat beside me has remained vacant this long. I guess it takes a bold sort of man to take the seat next to an obviously jilted woman.

“Hey, Jerry, I’ll have my regular,” a deep voice carries to the bartender. I turn to see who has moved onto the seat next to mine. A handsome man. No, not just handsome. The most attractive man I’ve ever seen in my life. Maturity and confidence radiate out of him.

He has to be at least six inches taller than me in my heels, putting him at about 6’3”. He has wavy blond hair that’s longer on the top and shorter on the sides. It’s a touch too long, like it’s just about time for his monthly haircut. His jaw looks like it could cut glass, it’s so chiseled, but a salt and pepper five o’clock shadow softens it, adding to the overall sex appeal. There’s nothing sexier than a mature man who knows what he likes, and knows how to get it.

He wears a white suit shirt, the top buttons undone, with his tie loosened around his neck. His shoulders are strong and broad, flexing within the linen as if doing their own mini “Hulk” impression. He doesn’t belong in a suit. He’s meant to sweat in the sun, an impression confirmed by his tanned skin and the rough hands grabbing his drink.

I watch him take a sip, like a stalker. His Adam’s apple bobs in that way that only sexy guys have. Damn. I don’t know if it’s the margaritas or my impromptu apple-licking fantasy, but I don’t notice when he turns to face me.

“Hello, beautiful, can I get your next drink?” he asks me. “You look like you might need it.”

My cheeks heat with embarrassment. “Um, yeah. I was supposed to get married today, but my fiance never showed up.”

His gaze sweeps over my dress. I know what he sees. My dress is classic and simple—knee-length and pulled in at the waist in a way that emphasizes my curves. Dennis organized the rest of the wedding, but I got to choose my own dress. Maybe that was a sign.

I wait for his eyes to meet mine, braced for the pity I know I’ll see.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I’ve never seen such heat in a man’s eyes. His gray-blue gaze meets mine like lasers, causing a flush to erupt over my entire body.

“He’s an idiot,” his gruff voice sounds deeper, it’s vibrations stroking along my lady parts. “If you were mine, I’d have you branded so everyone would know you were taken.”

Whoa. Hot. I shouldn’t like it, but I do. Especially after the shitastic day I’ve had.

He finishes his drink, setting the glass on the bar with a thump, as if coming to a decision.

“Dance with me.” He claims my hand and stands, bringing me with him.

I don’t even have a chance to respond as he guides me into the crowd. It’s funny how being surrounded by people can give you a sense of anonymity. But that’s what happens when he turns and pulls me close.

His hands rest firmly on my lower back. They’re so big his thumbs rest on my hips. I don’t know what to do with my hands until he pulls me close and the most natural place to rest them is around his neck.

He holds me. God, he smells good. Like lemons and freshly cut wood. I feel safe, my cheek resting against his chest while we sway to the music. It has been so long. I can’t remember the last time I let myself relax in someone’s arms. My heart swells, the ache spreading through my chest. I hope he doesn’t notice the lone tear that escapes, soaking into his shirt.

One large hand runs up and down my back, while the other cradles my head. I don’t know exactly how this happened, but I’m going to go with it. As the stress flows out of my body, I notice a new tension building.

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