Page 4 of Starting Over with Her Billionaire Boss

Daegan leaned back in his chair, giving it a gentle nudge to turn around. The expansive windows framed a turbulent sea. Storm clouds were gathering on the horizon, echoing his own restless energy simmering within.Everyone has a price, he reassured himself. Still, there was something about this house that gnawed at him. Something that felt different. He brushed the thought aside. Sentiment had no place in the real estate business. All he needed to do was convince this granddaughter she was better off taking a large sum of money than hanging onto an old house.

If anyone can do it, it’s me.

2

The disapproving glancesfrom passersby told Kinsley everything she needed about her overgrown lawn. After a few days of avoiding it, and the rain holding off, she finally ventured into the shed for Granny's ancient push mower—a relic probably as old as she was. Across the street, neighbors were bringing out their own lawn equipment. Their hum blended with the drone of her own.

It took a couple hours to figure it out, but eventually Kinsley managed to mow the front and large backyard. She slumped down in an old rocking chair on the front porch, kicking up her feet on the chipped white paint of the railing to enjoy a cold glass of lemonade. The bitter, yet sweet taste, was a delight after a couple of hours in the hot sun. The cool drink and gentle sea breeze made all the difference. As the leaves rustled, Kinsley felt as if she could float off into a nice midday nap.

“I was wondering what all that racket was out here,” an older woman’s voice shouted from nearby.

Kinsley sat up, turning to see where it came from.

“I used to tell your grandma that mower sounded like an airplane taking off,” the woman said with a feeble laugh. “I wokeup from my nap and wasn’t sure if I was home or next to an airport.”

Kinsley’s eyes landed on her. It was Mrs. Putski, Granny’s friend and next-door neighbor. Kinsley had known Mrs. Putski her whole life. She was the only person Kinsley reallyknewaround here. “I think it’s time for me to retire that old thing and get a new one.” With a sip of her lemonade, Kinsley pushed herself out of her chair and walked toward the fence to join her.

“Retire it?” She gestured to the mower that was still sitting outside the shed. “That thing is so old it should be in a museum.” Mrs. Putski leaned on the fence, her hazel eyes crinkling with amusement. “I saw you move in the other day, Kinsley, but I wanted you to get settled before coming by.” She fidgeted her fingers on the chipped wooden fence. “You know,” her voice cracked, “seeing you over there made me do a double take. You look so much like your grandmother. Well,” she chuckled, “about fifty years younger, of course.”

Kinsley smiled.

“Your grandma and I spent about fifty years together as neighbors. You know we would sit on that very porch sipping lemonade, just like you were doing now,” Mrs. Putski said with a nostalgic smile. “When you were little, we would watch you play in the yard. Always running around barefoot, no matter how many times she told you to wear shoes. I told her to let you go; stepping on a bee or two would build character.” Mrs. Putski pointed down at Kinsley’s bare feet.

They both chuckled as a gust of wind picked up, blowing Mrs. Putski’s powder-blue dress. Kinsley took a deep breath, the scent of the freshly cut lawn igniting her senses.Luckily, it isn’t igniting my allergies.The feel of the grass between her toes was still a treasured, freeing sensation.

Mrs. Putski fixed a stray piece of gray hair. “Are you still with that boyfriend of yours?” Her voice sounded hopeful.

“No,” Kinsley replied quickly, “we split up earlier this year.” As if the sun was beating down harder, Kinsley could feel the heat rising on her face. Despite the heartbreak, she was eager to leave it behind.

“Oh,” Mrs. Putski paused. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that, sweetheart.” Her voice lowered, “And how are you handling things now, Kinsley, with all that has happened?”

Kinsley held on to the fence and glanced down at the ground. “Just doing my best, Mrs. Putski.”

Mrs. Putski patted her hand, whispering, “It’s all we can do, isn’t it? Our best?” Kinsley looked back up to meet her smile.

Her chest tightened at Mrs. Putski’s words. She was trying—really trying—but each step felt like she was fumbling beneath her grandmother’s shadow. Kinsley wasn’t sure she could ever fill it. This house deserved the best; she needed to be that and more to share it with others.

Mrs. Putski continued, “Your grandma would be happy to see you taking care of her home. She always took such pride in it being in the family for so long.”

The heaviness in Kinsley’s chest lifted a little. “She really loved it.” She wished Granny could be here now, complaining about her plants and wondering where she’d put her gardening tools. Her guidance would have made everything better, gentler, less terrifying. The wordoverwhelmingsuited Kinsley best these days.

“She loved it so much that she wasn’t willing to sell it when those investors came knocking.” Mrs. Putski laughed. “Rose was a stubborn woman, but I can’t blame her. No kids to inherit mine, so when I’m gone,” she whistled, “that’ll be that.”

Kinsley’s gaze had been drifting back toward the house, but it snapped back toward Mrs. Putski. “Someone was trying to buy the house from Granny?” Kinsley’s mind raced back to the letter, connecting the dots. Her hand tightened around the glass,knuckles turning white as a wave of unease washed over her. The thought of selling had never crossed her mind as an option, but hearing about the investors made Kinsley wonder, just for a second, if she was clinging to something she could never really hold onto.

“Oh yes, yes,” Mrs. Putski nodded. “Everyone else on this side of the block accepted their offers. So that’s seven of us if we don’t count you. Besides, they already bought up all that acreage behind our backyards.” Mrs. Putski paused, adjusting her delicate glasses. “I couldn’t say no,” she shrugged. “The money was too good. Figured I’d take my small fortune and move to Florida with my sister. We could cruise every week if we want to.” She let out a small laugh.

A sense of unease grew and settled deep within her. Why hadn’t Granny mentioned any of this? It had never come up during their phone calls, although Granny never usually spoke of private matters or her “troubles” as she often called them.

Mrs. Putski must have noticed Kinsley drifting off in thought, because she quickly changed the subject. “So, do you have any plans for the house? Any summer plans?”

“Oh.” Kinsley quickly focused Mrs. Putski again. “I’d love to turn it into a bed-and-breakfast. I think it would do really well for all seasons. But I just need to fix things up and do quite a few renovations. I’m not sure where to start.” Kinsley looked back toward the house looming behind her.

“That’s a wonderful idea, Kinsley!” Mrs. Putski sounded enthused. “It has a lot of bedrooms. It would be perfect for a bed-and-breakfast. Your grandma would love that.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Putski.” Kinsley smiled. “It’s a little…overwhelming.” Kinsley felt a pang of doubt as she stared at the old house. The mauve paint was chipping, the roof likely needed repairs, and who knew what was lurking behind the old walls.Could she really turn it into a thriving business, or was she just fooling herself?

They chatted for a few more minutes about mundane things as Kinsley sipped on her lemonade. Regardless of what they spoke of, Kinsley couldn’t shake the nagging curiosity about the investors that wanted to buy the house. Who were they, and why did they want this old place so badly? Why did they wantallthe houses on this side of the block? She almost reached for her phone to look them up, but stopped herself.Not now.

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