Page 4 of Filthy Rich Single Daddies

As they disappear from view, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. My heart is still pounding, a mix of frustration and something I don’t want to name simmering beneath the surface.

"Well," I mutter to myself, tucking my hair behind my ears. "That went about as well as expected."

At least I didn't back down. But deep down, I can’t help but wonder if this is just the beginning. Because no matter how much I want to deny it, there’s no escaping the fact that Austin Rhodes is now a very real—and very complicated—part of my life.

He is my new neighbor after all.

Chapter 2

Skylar

Summer is officially here and I am officially off the clock.

The sun kisses my skin as I stretch out on the lounger, relishing the warmth of early summer. A gentle breeze rustles the leaves overhead, carrying with it the faint hum of bees flitting around the garden. I should be summer job hunting, I really should—but right now, I’m savoring this rare moment of peace. The scent of blooming roses drifts over from Birdie’s meticulously maintained garden, mingling with the earthy aroma of freshly watered soil.

I close my eyes and tilt my face toward the sky, letting the sunlight dance across my cheeks. For the first time in weeks, the tension in my shoulders starts to melt away.

I love the outdoors. I’m not really anoutdoorsygirl—I’d rather sip cocktails on a patio than go hiking—but there’s something about being outside that soothes me.

"Enjoying yourself, dear?" Birdie's voice carries across the lawn, lilting and warm with a hint of amusement.

I sit up, squinting against the brightness as I shield my eyes with one hand. Birdie is making her way toward me, her silver hair catching the light like a halo. She’s the picture of elegance in one of her signature flowing caftans, this one a vibrant turquoise that sets off the sparkle in her eyes.

"Just soaking up some vitamin D before I dive into the job search," I call back, trying to keep the guilt out of my voice.

Birdie waves a hand dismissively, her golden bangles jangling softly. "Oh, pish posh. You should take the summer to relax—you’ve earned it. If you’re really itching for something to do, why don’t you come help me wrangle this garden into submission? Heaven knows it’s getting the better of me these days."

I laugh, stretching my arms over my head as I stand. "How can I ever say no to you? Besides, I think I’m actually starting to like gardening. Who would’ve thought?"

Birdie’s eyes twinkle with a mischievous glint as she reaches my side. "Darling, you’re far too practical to be a trust fund baby. It’s one of the things I adore about you."

We stroll toward the rose bushes, the warm grass brushing against my bare feet. I can’t help the twinge of discomfort that creeps in as I take in the perfectly manicured lawns and sprawling estate. It’s beautiful, breathtaking—familiar, even—but so far removed from where I thought I'd end up. If it weren’t for Birdie’s kindness, I’d probably be holed up in some dingy studio apartment, eating ramen noodles and dodging my landlord.

"You're thinking too hard again," Birdie chides gently, handing me a pair of gardening gloves and a pair of shiny shears. "I can practically hear the gears grinding in that pretty head of yours."

I force a smile, trying to push away the memories of my old life. "Just wondering how I got so lucky to have you as my fairy godmother."

Birdie lets out a rich, warm laugh that feels like sunshine. "Oh, please. If anything, you're my knight in shining armor. Who else would keep this old bird companyandhelp with the gardening?"

As we work side by side—well, as I work and she watches—trimming away faded blooms and pulling up weeds, I feel the weight of gratitude settle over me. My life had imploded in ways I never thought possible, but somehow, I’d landed here. Or rather, Birdie had caught me before I hit the ground.

"You know," I say, carefully snipping a wilted rose, "I never thought I'd say this, but I'm kind of glad about everything that happened. It led me here, to you."

Birdie pauses, her eyes softening as she looks at me. Her hands are folded over the handle of her cane, the sunlight glinting off the gold rings that adorn her fingers. "Well," she says with a small smile, "their loss is my gain. Now, enough of this sappy nonsense. Tell me—any interesting prospects on the job front?"

She retreats to the shade of the porch, settling into a cushioned chair with a glass of iced tea in hand. I know she’d love to be out here in the dirt with me, but the years have taken their toll, and it’s not as easy for her anymore. Still, the way her eyes linger on the flowers tells me she’s just as invested, even if she’s not the one doing the pruning.

Sweat beads on my forehead, but I don't mind. There’s something strangely soothing about the repetitive motion of pulling weeds and trimming back overgrown vines. The world feels smaller out here, the chaos of the past few months fading into the background.

"You missed a spot, darling," Birdie calls from her perch, her voice playful.

I roll my eyes, but can't help the smile that tugs at my lips. "I thought you were supposed to be resting, not supervising."

"What can I say? Old habits die hard," she quips, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she raises her glass in a mock toast.

I'm about to fire back a snarky retort when a sharp voice cuts through the peaceful afternoon air. My hands freeze mid-pull, dirt crumbling between my fingers. The muscles in my shoulders tense as I glance over my shoulder toward the sound, my stomach twisting with unease.

"What is wrong with you? Can't you do anything right?"

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