Page 3 of Dedicated Billionaire

“Well, my flight has already been delayed a few hours, but the weather doesn’t seem too bad,” I say, flipping my camera so she can see the dreary scene outside. She sighs.

“It’s downright terrifying here,” she says. “High winds, hail ruining the flowers I put out for brunch.” She looks anything but scared out of her wits as she smiles brightly at someone on the other side of her phone. She then flips the view so that I see a guy who looks around my age, rummaging through the fridge. “Louis, say hello to my daughter! I just know you two will hit it off when she gets here.”

Louis looks startled but flashes her phone a smile before scurrying away. She runs the camera from his feet up to his head as he leaves, then flips the view back to me. “Isn’t he darling?” she stage whispers. “Your father invited a lot of his mostpromising new employees this summer. I hope you’re ready to make some new friends.”

Now I don’t bother holding back my groan. I should have suspected this. Ever since my birthday, my mom decided that the legal drinking age also means the expected marrying age. At the very least she wants to see me in a relationship that’s going somewhere. She’d try the same thing with my brother, but Matt was smart enough to fake a serious girlfriend who’s in medical school and is always too busy to go to family functions. It’s only buying him a limited amount of time but at least he doesn’t have half a dozen suitors breathing down his neck every time we’re all together. He went so far as to photoshop himself into a series of stock images to show off all the time he spends with his imaginary girl.

That’s my mom for you. She means well, wanting us to be as happy and settled as she is. And granted, not many people are lucky enough to still be blissfully married for as long as she and my dad have been. She just refuses to understand I have my own dreams I want to accomplish before I settle down. I want to bring my love of art to as many people as possible, hopefully as a curator of my own museum one day, so there’s no time for her ridiculous nonsense.

I remind her that we’re not in Regency era England and I have a fair number of years before I’m on the shelf. She laughs it off, saying she just wants to make sure I’m not bored. That would be sweet if I didn’t know her true intentions. She probably has Grandma’s ring from the safe, ready to give to the first guy who looks at me so he can propose.

“Ugh, Mom, I need to get going,” I say, cutting off her plans for doubles tennis with my future fiancé.

I try to end the call because they’re making an announcement about my flight over the loudspeakers. Before I can get rid of her, my dad pops up, scolding me for not takinghis offer to fly private. His version of hell is waiting in line with crowds of people and makes a big point to have a bunch of trees planted whenever one of us calls him out on his overuse of the family jet.

“It’s fine, it’s not a big deal,” I say, clicking off before anyone else jumps in to try to control my life somehow.

Since they made me miss the announcement, I get up to join the angry crowd around the desk. They’re all muttering about how they’re going to get different flights and I realize my flight has been completely canceled. I groan along with them and pull up the internet to figure out when the next plane in that direction is, when a massive wave of disappointment flows through the crowded airport.

The announcement comes seconds later. Due to upcoming weather, all flights are currently canceled until further notice. Looks like this storm is sweeping half the country and is expected to go on through most of the night.

Am I incredibly unlucky or blessed to be able to delay the upcoming menagerie of men waiting to sweep me off my feet? I decide it’s probably not good news, because it’s not enough to get me completely out of the vacation, just enough to make me suffer at the airport for five or six hours. I’m about to call my mom with an update, moving away from the mob for some quiet, when I just about run smack into the only person I want to see less than any number of future husbands my mom has lined up for me.

Braden Reynolds. My brother’s best friend. I’d completely blocked him out, but of course he’d also be invited to the family vacation. He is as good as family as far as my parents and brother are concerned.

Crap. Yes, this is definitely unlucky.

He stands away from the crowd, frowning up at the info screen, talking into his phone. His light brown hair is as unrulyas usual and he somehow seems taller and more buff than I remember, wearing a casual black t-shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders and slim waist. His jeans mold to his muscular thighs and I remembered my brother talking about going to some training camp Braden’s football team puts on every year for charity. It kicked Matt’s ass, but it seemed like Braden was working out regularly with his players to be that built.

There’s no denying he’s scorching hot and always has been, but he’s also annoying as hell and the last person I want to have to spend the next hours with. Now that he’s the owner of one of the most popular pro football teams in the league, he seems even more unserious than ever before.

There was that time in my early teen years when I thought I had a crush on him, but he stomped that out of existence with his constant teasing. I don’t know why I haven’t turned and fled to another part of the airport to get away from him. Why am I still standing there, staring at him? As if my feet are glued to the floor. My eyes almost refuse to blink. How long has it been since I’ve seen him?

He used to always be at our family events, since my parents took him under their wings when he was tragically orphaned. I think I had him down as some romantic figure in my mind, a dark and troubled boy who needed comfort and care to find his true calling.

Nope, he was just a jackass whose only calling was a good time. He finally knuckled down at the last minute to get into the same college as Matt, where they continued their reign of terror over me from afar. I always thought Braden was a bad influence on my brother and hoped they’d part ways after they graduated, but no. They’re as tight as ever, and while they’ve somewhat matured beyond the mortifying practical jokes they used to inflict on me, I still want nothing to do with Braden. Not at the resort, and certainly not now. So, why am I still standing there?

Shit! He turns and spots me, frozen in my tracks like a deer in headlights. No time to duck behind a column now. Great, things just got way worse and annoying than a six hour flight delay. Maybe he won’t recognize me. It’s been a while, after all.

His face shifts and his eyes widen. He definitely recognizes me. This is worse than being unlucky, this seems like some sort of sick karma. What did I do to deserve Braden Reynolds?

Chapter 2

Braden

I arrive with plenty of time to grab whatever paperback is topping the charts from a gift shop and eat one of those hot, gooey pretzels you can only seem to find in an airport. With my overnight bag slung over my shoulder, I stop in the middle of a crowd that seems churned up about something. Like they might pull out hidden pitchforks and torches they somehow managed to get through security.

At one of the info screens, I peer up at it at the same time I start dialing my pilot. Looks like every last flight is canceled due to a dangerous storm that’s shutting down airports across half the country.

I was hoping to blend in and fly commercial this trip—environmentally conscious and all—but it looks like the weather has other plans for me. My pilot picks up immediately and confirms he needs to check with air traffic control before he can confirm we can leave. After a few minutes of muffled silence, he clicks back on.

“We’d have to have wheels up in the next fifteen minutes to stay ahead of the storm,” Mike says.

“Is it safe?” I ask.

He’s been flying me all over the country since before I bought my football team— God, how many years has it been now? He loves the sport as much as I do and is dedicated tomy team, even back when Seattle were the laughingstocks of the sports world. Unable to win, or even score half the time, they were on the verge of bankruptcy when I just had a feeling about them.

Mike was flying me to the meeting so I could snap them up for a song, and he was the only one who didn’t scoff at my gut feeling that I could turn everything around. I trust him with my life, since if we go up and things turn bad, it’s his ass taking a nosedive as well.

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