Page 135 of The Billion Heirs Boxed Set
I miss Sadie Hopkins. The woman I barely know but can’t get out of my head.
Fuck her, anyway.
“Miles,” Carly says, “what’s the matter?”
“I’m fine,” I say a little more harshly than I mean to.
“Dude”—Austin eyeballs me—“don’t take your bad mood out on my woman. It’s not fair.”
He’s right, of course. “Sorry,” I mumble, slumping lower in the chair.
“Can we do anything to help?” Carly asks.
“I wish you could.” I turn to my brother. “Be good to her, man. She’s a keeper.”
“I plan on it.” Austin finishes the last of his beer and sets the bottle down on the deck railing. “What’s eating you, Miles?”
If I could only put it into words. But nothing makes sense. I don’t do relationships, so why am I tangled up in knots over a woman who clearly doesn’t want to be with me? A woman who lied about being with me? Sure, she eventually came clean, but still… Should I cut her a little more slack? She is a detective on a case involving my family.
God, if only she didn’t feel like the most perfect glove around my cock…
“Where the hell is Chance with that scotch?” I glance toward the French doors leading into the house.
“Right here.” Chance comes out and sets the bottle and a lowball glass in front of me. “Help yourself.”
“Aren’t any of you going to join me?”
“Happy to,” Chance says. “After dinner.”
“For Christ’s sake.” I open the bottle, pour myself two fingers of the amber liquid, and take a taste, letting the warmth and smokiness settle over my tongue before it trickles down my throat.
I’m not a big drinker. Hell, drinking doesn’t solve anything. I set the glass on the table. “Sorry, Chance,” I mutter. “Sorry to all of you. I’m being an asshole.”
“When you’re right, you’re right.” Chance glances at my drink. “I know we’re billionaires and all—eventually, anyway—but my ma taught me never to waste anything.”
“I’ll drink it. But you’re right. It’s more of an after-dinner drink, especially after a hard day’s work.”
“You want another cold one?” Austin asks.
“No, but thanks. I’ll be fine. I always am.”
Austin opens his mouth to reply, but before he can, Louisa opens the French doors.
“Looks like dinner’s on,” Chance says.
“Not quite yet,” Louisa says. “It’ll be another fifteen minutes. But there’s someone at the door to see Miles.”
I widen my eyes. “Who is it?”
“The detective from yesterday,” she says.
Fuck. Peterson.
“That man can’t leave us alone,” Chance mutters.
Could this day get any worse? I pick up the scotch. I’ll be needing it after all.
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