Page 8 of Billionaire Undeceived - Devon

She sent me a skeptical look, like she couldn’t figure out if I was for real.

“You’re serious,” she said as she looked me in the eyes. “I didn’t see that coming.”

I sent her one of my most charming smiles. “I like to surprise people. What time should I show up? Take pity on me, Reese. If you don’t, I’ll have to eat something frozen that I can toss in the microwave.”

She frowned. “You know that stuff isn’t healthy for you, especially if you eat it often. It’s packed with sodium, saturated fats, and unhealthy additives.”

She actually sounded concerned about my health, which caught me off-guard.

It was also kind of sweet, which was a word I never would have associated with Reese until this very moment.

I winked at her. “So are you going to save me from those terribly unhealthy things for one night?”

To be honest, I knew that my days of eating cardboard food for dinner should be ending. I was getting close to forty, but it never seemed to make sense to cook healthy food for myself. I usually didn’t have the time, either. It was just easier to toss something into the microwave when I got home from my office in Billings.

I could only drop into my mom’s place for dinner when I was getting home early, which wasn’t that often. She’d been a rancher’s wife for decades, so she went to bed early and was up at the crack of dawn.

Reese looked torn, like she was running her options over and over in her head.

It was kind of cute that she wanted to save me from myself, yet didn’t want to spend time in my company.

“Seven-thirty,” she finally said, sounding resigned.

So her empathy was stronger than her dislike of me?

That was intriguing.

And a little unsettling.

It told me that Reese was inherently a kind woman who put other’s needs before her own.

If that was true, how dangerous could she possibly be to my family and the people I cared about?

“Wine?” I asked.

“I love it,” she confessed. “But I don’t drink it often. I usually prefer to eat my daily calories instead of drinking them.’

Apparently, she paid attention to what she ate and drank for health reasons, which I found a little surprising for a woman in her twenties who didn’t appear to have a weight issue.

Reese was probably average height for a female.

She wasn’t model thin, but she had her curves in all the right places.

“I’ll bring a good German Reisling that I have in my wine cellar. I collect wines, too.”

Her eyes lit up. “Then I’ll make this one of those rare nights that I have a glass. I’m sure it’s good wine.”

“It’s the best,” I assured her as I walked toward the door.

“Do I want to know how expensive that wine is?” she called out before I left.

“Nope,” I verified with a smirk. “Just consider it a thank you gift for feeding me.”

I exited before she could change her mind about dinner.

As I got into my truck, I shook my head at the interesting turn of events that had just happened.

I was a cynical asshole, but Reese Martin had just surprised me.

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