Page 57 of The Billionaire Is Back

I Bet You Think This Scone Is about You

Claire

I finally haveGrady Barber in my bedroom, and I said the wordnoto him.

After he kissed me.

It doesn’t feel good.

This isn’t revenge.

It isn’t a joke.

It isn’t me playing hard to get.

This is self-preservation.

When I woke up this morning I felt better than I had in years. Maybe ever. Affirmations are nice and all, but sometimes a girl just needs a good fingering by a hot billionaire to feel validated.

The problem is I was convinced that after last night I could not live without Grady Barber. It felt like we were in love. It felt like I always thought it would feel, with the person I always secretly wanted tofeel it with. I didn’t want it to stop. I would have followed him anywhere if he’d asked me to. Just like when I was a teenager, all the way up until that moment when he rejected me. But I’m not a teenager. I’m a grown-up with an unprofitable business who lives with her parents and won’t give up on that business or herself.

And while my ovaries may have been dancing and singingThis will be! An everlasting love!ever since he first kissed me in the car, my brain—that wise, old Professor McGonagall—sent them to their room when I got out of bed and docked ten points from House Hornymuff. This is my life. Real life.

Last night was a dream come true for me, but every single thing I told myself for the past twelve years about why it could never work between me and Grady, they’re still true too. He is who he is and I am who I am. I don’t want to leave Beacon Harbor, and Grady will always choose his ambitions over everything and everyone here. I don’t take it personally anymore—it’s just who he is.

That sucks, but reminding myself of this is what’s keeping me sane. It’s what’s keeping me from trying to engulf Grady with my labia. It’s what will keep my heart from splitting in two when he leaves again.

I just want to kiss his beautiful, surprised, confused face again.

But I’m not going to because if I do, I will never stop.

“What?” he exhales. “Did you just say no?”

“No, thank you.”

He glances down at the floor. “Is this because I made you drop your scone?” His lips curl into a grin, but I hearthe quiver in his voice. I see the uncertainty in his tea-brown eyes.

I pick up my scone. If he weren’t here, I would totally still eat it. Not the part where the tiny carpet fibers are stuck to the butter, but the rest of it. I place it on top of my desk and prepare to lay things out for both of us. Because I need to hear it too.

“No.”

“Did you hear what I just said to you? I want you, Claire. For real. Do you not believe me?”

I take his hand in mine. Which is a mistake because now I want to place it on my boob. “I believe you. Please stop saying it. Or never stop saying it—no, don’t say it again. I love hearing it way too much.”

He places his hand over mine, and it feels so good, I can’t touch him.

“Nope.” I take three steps back. “Can’t.” I drag my fingers through my hair. “Please don’t think that this is easy for me, seeing you standing there, looking all earnest, in a suit, telling me you want me to be your girlfriend and then me saying no to you.” I shake my head and start pacing back and forth.

“This is really hard. I’m not negotiating—it’s a hard no. You don’t get up before the sun, measuring and cutting and mixing and rolling and kneading for hours and hours only to have all your work literally gobbled up and then get up and do it all over again the next day without being disciplined.”

I stop in front of him and hold my finger up for emphasis, which might be another mistake. “You have given me a great gift. And I’m not just talking about, youknow…” I slide my hands into my pockets, shrugging. “That thing you did last night. I mean telling me how you feel, wanting me. I know how hard it is for you to say all of this. I’m not taking it for granted. But I can’t take the life I’ve built for myself for granted either. I am worthy,” I say, trying not to sound too much like I’m reciting something my mom wrote on a Post-it note. “Not just of you and your affection and attention. Of my dreams. And while I did dream of being with you for years, Grady—you have no idea how much—I have other dreams too. And those dreams live here.” I point to the ground with both hands. “Not here in this room—in this town.”

He sighs and rubs his forehead. “I know that, Claire…”

“Are you going to move back to Beacon Harbor?”

He pauses for half a second before answering, and in that half second I envision an entire life for us. “No.”

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