Page 11 of Rescued By My Small Town Billionaire

“Actually, it does,” I reply, stepping between him and Becky. Her small hand brushes against my arm as I move, and it’s enough to make me stand a little taller. “You’ve had your say. Now, leave her alone.”

Paul scoffs, his gaze flicking between us. “This is cute,” he sneers. “You're playing knight in shining armor. But we both know Becky doesn’t need you to fight her battles.”

“Maybe not,” I admit, my jaw tightening. “But she doesn’t have to deal with you either. So, unless you want me to call the sheriff, I suggest you back off.”

Paul’s jaw works as he glares at me, but after a tense moment, he takes a step back. “This isn’t over,” he mutters before stalking off, his shoulders stiff with frustration.

The tension in my chest eases as I turn back to Becky. She’s staring at the ground, her cheeks flushed, but when she looks up, there’s a flicker of gratitude in her eyes.

“Are you okay?” I ask softly, keeping my voice steady. “What was that all about?”

Becky nods, but her shoulders sag as she exhales. “I’m fine. Thank you for stepping in.”

“It’s what I’m here for,” I say, offering her a small smile.

She explains that she just ran into him and was taken by surprise. Her lips curve upward slightly, and the sight makes my chest tighten in a way I don’t fully understand.

After dinner, Becky and I find ourselves sitting on the porch swing at the ranch, the quiet hum of crickets filling the space between us. She’s cradling B., her fingers absentmindedly stroking the kitten’s soft fur as she speaks.

“This fake relationship,” she starts, her voice hesitant, “it has to look real. If it doesn’t, Paul will never believe it.”

Leaning back against the swing’s frame, I nod. “I agree. But it’s not just about looking real—it has to feel real. At least to the people watching.”

She glances at me, her brows knitting together. “How do we do that?”

“Boundaries,” I say simply. “We set clear boundaries. What we’re comfortable with, what we’re not. And we stick to them.”

Becky’s lips press into a thoughtful line before she nods. “Okay. That makes sense.”

As we talk, the tension between us shifts, growing heavier but not uncomfortable. It’s a strange mix of honesty and uncertainty, like we’re balancing on the edge of something neither of us is ready to name.

***

The next morning, Becky joins me for a walk through the community gardens of the botanical gardens. My mom has invited me to bring Becky to tea at the Botanical garden gazebo. Becky offered to help out in the gardens. She lights up as we pass rows of blooming flowers, her excitement bubbling over as she stops to admire each one.

When we reach a bench near the center of the garden, Becky pauses, her gaze catching on the plaque attached to it. She leans closer to read the inscription, her expression softening as the words sink in.

“For Julia Thorn, who taught us to find beauty in every bloom. With love, Mike and Lulu.”

“This is beautiful,” she murmurs, turning to me. “You did this for your mom?”

A lump forms in my throat. “She loves this place. She always says it feels like a little piece of heaven on earth.” I didn't tell Becky that I had given a sizable donation to the gardens and they gave the bench as a thank you.

Becky’s smile is warm, her eyes shining with something I can’t quite place. “She must be so proud of you. Of both of you.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. Clearing my throat, I shrug it off. “Thanks.” My mother had a close call with her health a few years ago. Feeling we might lose her, made Lulu and I appreciate all that she’s done for us.

It approaches afternoon as Becky and I wrap up our tour of the gardens.

“There was so much to see,” Becky says enthusiastically. “Those bonsai are so old and it must take a lot of patience.”

“Not for me I’m afraid. I don’t have that kind of patience,” I joke. “I’m more of a quick action guy myself.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she chides. “If it wasn’t for your quick action, I might have gotten hurt in the fire.”

My heart feels tight. In retrospect, Becky’s safety had meant more to me than just my job.

“It’s tea time at the gazebo,” I distract Becky. My mom is at the Master Gardener meeting and I was tasked to take Becky there for tea.

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