Page 9 of The Renegade Billionaire
“Never,” he says in a silvery voice. “I’m simply changing my priorities.”
“From what?” Water drips down my face, and I wipe it away. It’s then I remember I sneezed earlier, and I surreptitiously take a swipe at my chin.
He smirks, but his gaze has me in a chokehold. “The kind of responsibilities I didn’t get to choose?” With a shrug, he drops his gaze. “My family, I guess. They’re…not aligning with who I want to be.”
Lord, do I know how that feels. I’ve spent the last sixteen years trying to be better than my parents, not that they set the bar all that high.
“Huh,” is what I say as I grab a hand towel and hand it to him. “I…can understand that.”
And that’s as personal as I can get with this handsome stranger.
“Well, I should get dried off. I’ll have breakfast ready in thirty minutes.”
Crap. Crap. Crap. I wasn’t anticipating making breakfast for anyone but me and Pops this morning, so frozen waffles are out of the picture. If I hurry, I can get something made and only be fifteen minutes behind. Possibly.
“Anything I can do to help?” he asks, his voice pitching higher as though his own question startled him. Then he frowns while glancing around the kitchen—it’s as if he’s truly seeing it for the first time.
I know what he finds as he scans the space. The floorboards in desperate need of sanding. The old cabinets that date the house. The tired wallpaper curling at the edges. What he doesn’t see is all the love and life that’s happened here.
And no one may ever see that again.
Swallowing around the lump permanently lodged in my throat, I offer something that probably looks closer to a grimace. “No, but thank you. You’re the guest, just give me a few minutes.”
His gaze returns to mine, and there’s something in his expression I can’t read—understanding, or maybe sadness he’s trying to hide. But it doesn’t matter. I cannot afford to get caught up in whatever mess he’s running from.
I’ve got my own problems to solve—starting and ending with saving the inn.
“It looks as though this was a great place to grow up. There’s a lot of love in these walls.” His voice is sandpaper rough, as if he isn’t used to speaking so gently.
The ball in my throat grows spikes—that’s the last thing I expected him to say.
“What… Why do you say that?”
“It’s the way you look at it, as if it holds all the stories of your life.” His jaw tightens, and he runs a hand through his thick dark hair. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. I’m— It’s been a rough couple of days.”
How did he go from soft and tender to stone-cold in the span of a sentence?
The sun is starting to rise now, and the glint of amber in his stare is intense. No, scratch that, I have a feeling he’s intense allover. I need to check the book and see how long he rented a room for. The sooner he leaves, the better.
“Did you know amber eyes are one of the rarest colors?” Instantly, I slap a hand over my mouth.
Those dang amber irises my mouth appreciated so much sparkle when the corners crinkle, gentling his features.
“I did not know that, but I do love a good fun fact.”
He stands there, staring, smiling, taking me in for longer than is comfortable.
“Sorry,” he mutters, dragging his gaze away from me and back to the sink. “I’m not quite myself. It’s— There’s been a lot of change for me in the last couple of months, but I’ll, ah, get out of your hair.”
Before I can tell him that he can stay, he’s gone. The old swinging door sings its age behind him.
It isn’t until I’m alone in my room that I realize my shirt is completely see-through and not once did he perv out and leer at me.
I leftbreakfast for the not-handsome guest in the kitchen, then ran back upstairs to get my stuff together for the day. So when I step out onto the porch, the last thing I’m expecting to find is Braxton with a stack of pancakes in one hand and his phone in the other.
Glancing around, I don’t see a car in the parking area other than mine. I bite my tongue, hard. I do not offer strangers rides. Even if said stranger is sleeping in the room next to mine for who knows how long. Leave it to my grandfather to not include a check-out date.
“Do you need a ride somewhere?” Stupid people-pleasing curse.
