Page 5 of Ezra the Billionaire

The stern businessman I’ve ogled since the first time I saw his thick, muscular chest on display.

He’s here.

Angry on my behalf.

Glancing up at my grumpy knight in shining armor, I bite my lip to hold back a sigh of pleasure. Late afternoon scruff covers his strong jawline, messing with his usual sleek put-togetherness, but instead of detracting from his handsomeness, it adds another layer of rugged beauty.

God, what is wrong with me?

I’m newly single and hiding from the tabloids. Even if a vacation fling was on the table,which it certainly is not, Ezra isoff-limits. He owns the lodge I’m staying at. He’s technically my boss as long as I’m modeling for his marketing campaign.

It’s a bad idea all around.

Fucking Hunter.

My life was drama-free before him, and now it seems like life is laughing as it remedies the oversight—molding my future into one giant tangled mess with romance at the center.

CHAPTER FOUR

EZRA

When Griffen called to see if I wanted to join him and Gramps on their weekly grocery trip, I jumped at the chance to get out of the office. The numbers on the computer screen were blurring together, and the comfort I usually found from burying myself in work was as elusive as a lodge vacancy on Valentine’s Day—one of our busiest holidays, thanks to Suitor’s Crossing’s legend ofheart sparks.

From a marketing standpoint, the fantasy of meeting your soulmate, orheart spark, at one of the town’s romantic spots like the famous Suitor’s Crossing Bridge or strolling our idyllic Main Street is a goldmine. It’s great for business when tourists are eager to book a stay at Hearthstone Lodge with hopes of falling in love or affirming an established relationship.

In my opinion, however, it’s a bunch of candy-coated bullshit.

The founding family that started theheart sparkmyth had enough business sense to spin the tale into a campaign for Suitor’s Crossing. Refusing to let the town fade into obscurity like the many others that cropped up in the late 1800s during the state’s few gold rushes.

I don’t begrudge their savviness; I’m just too practical to fall for hearts and butterflies propaganda.

The same can’t be said for the majority of town locals, including my sister.

“Something on your mind?” Gramps bumps my shoulder with his frailer one as we turn down the cereal aisle.

“Just work,” I lie. It’s not like me to zone out or dwell on something as trivial asheart sparks, but I know who to blame for the lapse: my meddling sister and a curvy songwriter.A quick internet search revealed exactly who Lauren Billingsley is and why she’s hiding from the paparazzi.

Because of her asshole ex-boyfriend.

The realization that she's single shouldn't be branded into my brain, but I can't shake the unwanted thought.

“That’s the only thing ever on your mind,” Griffen says, dropping a box of Cheerios into the cart. “Between the lodge and your billion dollar hedge fund, it’s no wonder Kennedy’s cooked up her ridiculous scheme.”

“Hang on. What scheme?”

Gramps and Griffen share a look before determinedly avoiding the question and wheeling into the next aisle full of frozen foods. A couple stands behind a frosted over freezer door, their conversation becoming clearer the closer we get.

“You’re the fat chick from that show my girlfriend makes me watch every Wednesday,” the man says. “No wonder he hooked up with that other girl. She’s fucking hot, and you’re stuffing your face with junk.”

What the fuck?

A familiar beauty hits me square in the chest as I round the freezer door, prepared to lay into this jackass for speaking to a woman like that. But to discover he’s talking toLaurenthat way?

Fuck that shit.

“What did you say to her?” Instinctively, my arm circles her waist to place a protective hand on her soft belly. I read about thedrama that went down on the reality show she participated in. About the lousy ex who cheated on her with a fellow housemate.

Righteous anger for her had swirled in my gut, but this douche wants to act like it’s Lauren’s fault?

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