Page 40 of The Billionaire Is Back

I’m only here because I want to show this guy how over him I am, even if it was weirdly sweet and sort of hot that he threw a towel over me at the beach today. If he wants to be a good friend to Jake by trying to help me out, well, I’ll let him think he’s being a good friend to Jake. But I’m going to prove to both of us that I don’t need anything he has to offer.So, bring it, Barber. Watch me resist every single part of you. I’ve got all night to make you regret not wanting me.

Still, my very rational brain is in agreement with the rest of me on one thing—it is not unpleasant to watch him work. This has always been my favorite view of Grady, and it has nothing to do with the way his dark jeans showcase his butt or how perfectly his navy-and-cream merino-wool sweater fits his torso. It’s when his attention is laser focused on a task. His face is never more beautiful than when his mind is wrapped up in whatever he’s doing. His body moves with incredible grace and ease as he makes his way back and forth across the vessel. The veins in his forearms bulge as he prepares the sails for hoisting, stows our backpacks, and coils line. Gotta hand it to him—the guy can tie a good knot.

I watch as his fingers deftly coil the rope to create a loop. An opening. Two thick strong fingers penetrate the loop to hold it open while he thrusts the ends of the rope into the opening. He slips his thumb and forefinger farther down the rope, looping it again and doubling back, penetrating the opening again. And again. Beforehis big strong hands with knuckles that are like knots themselves pull everything tight, the opening tightening like a vice around the length filling it.

“Okay, Sweeney,” he says in a tone that makes me snap to attention and then immediately resent it. “Time to raise the sails. All aboard,” he orders. Again.

See? Isn’t that nice?my lady parts whisper.

“Shut it.”

“What was that?” Grady asks. His dark brows are furrowed, but the corner of his mouth quirks upward.

Shit, I said that out loud. I shake my head. “Nothing. Help me up,” I order. Grady smiles that damn smile of his and obeys, pulling me up and helping me onto the deck, over the lifeline, and directly into his chest. He grips my arm until he’s sure I’m steady.

“You good?” He stares down at me without moving.

I glance up at him, trying to read the expression on his face. His jaw is so tense, you’d think he was holding on to me for dear life. But he isn’t. It seems like he’s torn between wanting to hang on and push me away. He almost looks guilty? I nod and step aside, carefully shuffling over to the cockpit in the sexiest manner possible. Wishing I had answered,Yeah,I’m amazing. Have you really not figured that out yet? Too bad because, like the one we’re standing on is about to,thatship has sailed.But it’s more important not to fall over right now.

“Put on your sweater,” he commands.

When I step into the cockpit, I notice he has folded the thick sweater I brought and laid it out on the seat. I put on the sweater. Not because he told me to, because Iremember how chilly it can get out on the water once the sun starts to set.

When I turn around, he’s right behind me, holding up a life jacket. “Put this on too,” he grunts.

“Aw, man.” That is not hot. “Areyougoing to wear one?”

“Yes. Put it on,” he orders.

I wrinkle my nose—that is the only fuss I make, but he shoves my arms through the arm holes and slips the life jacket on me. Then he zips it up and fastens the plastic buckles. If he noticed the nipples beneath my sweater trying to wave at him to save them, he ignored them.

Once he confirms that the life jacket is snug on my torso, he’s off to hoist the mainsail.

“You still remember how to sail?” I ask, simply because I don’t want him to know how much the part of me from the neck down enjoyed what he just did to me.

“I have a sailboat in New York” is his reply.

“Of course you do.” I stop rolling my eyes midroll because I feel like such a Little Sweeney when I eye-roll him, and I need him to know that I’m not Little Sweeney anymore. “I mean, why bother sailing? You can afford to just have any island moved closer to shore for you.”

“I can. But it would take too long,” he deadpans. “And I enjoy sailing, Little Sweeney.”

I press my lips into a straight line and blink at him slowly, but he’s too busy putting on his life jacket to notice. So, I take the opportunity to apply ChapStick. Not because I am anticipating the use of my lips beyondfrowning and snarling at him, because we’re going sailing and there will be wind.

As we set sail, Grady coils more lines and sets them up neatly, ready to use.

We say nothing at all for the next half hour or so as we glide toward the horizon. The waves aren’t too choppy, and it’s not too windy. There’s enough of a breeze to keep him from having to use the engine. The clouds are fluffy and huge. The sunset tonight is going to be gorgeous. Or it might rain—you just never know this summer. I notice that as we get farther from land, away from my bakery and my shitbox car and my old bedroom in my parents’ house, my body relaxes. My breaths are deeper and slower. My shoulders don’t feel tight. I hadn’t realized just how tense my body was until it started to relax.

It has been entirely too long since I’ve been out on the water. I’ve spent more time outside and by the water today than I have all year, I think. Which is impossible to believe. I used to go hiking or boating, or both, every week. What have I been doing with my free time for the past couple of years?

Sleeping. And therapy baking. And learning how to be a better baker. And forgetting about the billionaire who wouldn’t kiss me.

But then we get even farther away from land. There is nothing and no one else around. “Why are we out this far?” I finally ask Grady without hiding the suspicion in my voice.

He continues steering and staring ahead. “I just wantus to get away from everything. Somewhere no one can watch us or bother us.”

Uh-huh. So that’s why he looked guilty earlier.Maybe he’s going to murder us!my lady parts deduce. Except they’re turned on. What the hell, lady parts? That is neither exciting nor sexy.You’re wrong,my heart pleads.Maybe you’ve been wrong all these years! Maybe he’s super, super obsessed with you! So obsessed he has to kill you to make you his forever!My heart swoons. I mean, what the fuck, heart? Is it romantic? Sure. Would I begrudgingly admit that it would be gratifying to learn that Grady had thought about me at all, even if it was because he had some master plan to make my soul his forever? Okay, yeah. I would. Begrudgingly.

But I have to work. I have bills to pay and mouths to feed. I don’t have time to get murdered. Not even by the golden boy of Beacon Harbor. “Are you going to kill me?”

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