Page 8 of The Grumpy Billionaire
“Of course not, but I would never let that happen.” Mara’s voice wavered for a moment, but then she set her jaw and lifted her chin. “I would just tell my father he’s not allowed to fire your mom. She can live here as long as she wants to—and so can you.”
I had to laugh at her ridiculous self-confidence. Her sassy, girl-boss attitude was impossibly cute.
“Oh really? And when did Pearson Neely start listening to you? He doesn’t listen to anyone but his campaign advisors and his own gigantic ego.”
“I’m his only daughter,” she said. “If hereallyunderstood how important you are to me, there’s no way he’d hurt me by sending you away.”
“You sure about that, sweet girl?”
“Of course.” But her expression wasn’t as certain as her tone. “Anyway, he won’t find out.”
“No. He won’t,” I agreed. “Because nothing’s going to happen between us. Besides you’re planning to go off to Columbia next year, and I’m going to URI on scholarship. You’re going to meet a bunch of guys in New York and forget all about me.”
“I could never forget you,” she swore solemnly. “Never for as long as I live.”
Though I knew the words shouldn’t make me happy, a deep sense of satisfaction filled my chest, warming my insides and expanding like a hot air balloon glowing and rising in preparation for flight.
“New York isn’t that far from Rhode Island,” she reminded me.
Her expression changed, looking almost sad as a thought occurred to her. “Will you meet a bunch of girls at college and forget about me?”
The truth was out of my mouth before I had time to self-edit or even think about it. “No. I’ll never love anyone but you.”
Mara’s eyelids flared, and her face moved toward me again, but once more, I twisted away, preventing the contact that was starting to feel more imperative than oxygen.
“It doesn’t matter how I feel or what I want,” I ground out in a voice that sounded like it was made of gravel. “You can’t aways have what you want or do what you want to do. You know that better than I do.”
For a moment Mara was quiet, just staring at me. Then her body relaxed, and she lifted her head to look around at her family’s beach, the rolling waves that moved on and off shore casually as if we weren’t having the most critical conversation of our young lives.
She looked back to me and lifted one pretty, suntanned shoulder in a delicate shrug.
“Okay, I guess you’re right. But… I want to ask you for just one thing. And then I’ll let the topic go. I promise.”
Immediately my suspicions were raised. She never gave up this easily–on anything. “What?”
“A kiss.”
She said it as if it were no big deal. “Just one. Just kiss meonetime, and then IpromiseI won’t bring it up again.”
I shook my head, beginning to protest. “I don’t think I can hand–”
“Is it really so much to ask? I just need to know what it feels like,” she pleaded. “I’ve never let anyone kiss me before, and I’ve imagined kissing you so many times, it’s almost all I can think about. I lie awake in my bed at night, pretending you’re there beside me. Pretending…”
Apparently her nerve failed before she could finish the sentence. But I knew what she was going to say because my wakeful nighttime hours–and all my dreams– were filled with her, with what I wanted to do with her, for her, and to her.
Oh God.This girl was going to kill me.
Now Ireallycouldn’t kiss her. I was about to combust just hearing her talk about it.
My grip on her waist tightened, and my arms tensed in preparation to lift her off of me—a feat that was going to take Herculean effort.
But then I spotted the telltale glisten in her eyes.
“Hey don't cry,” I begged. “You know it’s not because I don't want you or find you attractive. You know I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”
“I’m not mad atyou,” she said. “I’m just… sad. And mad at…”
She looked around as if searching for words in the seagrass and sand surrounding us. “At life. Fate. The world. My stupid father and mother. It’s so obvious we should be together, and I can’t believe they can’t see it. It’s not fair.”
