Page 54 of The Billionaire Is Back

“Well, he might be interested, Miss Huffypants.”

“I’m interested, Helen. Thanks for thinking of me.” I will plunk down a few hundred thousand if that’ll keep Claire and Jake’s mom in my good graces.

I put the dog down on the linoleum floor. “Sweet dog. Havanese?”

“Shih tzu!” Mrs. Sweeney says, pulling a carton of eggs out of the fridge. “His name’s Magnum. After the PI. Not the condoms.”

“Mom!”

Her mom shrugs. “Do you still like Spanish omelets, Grady?”

“I actually don’t eat breakfast most days now, but thank you.”

“Oh, the fasting thing.” Mrs. Sweeney regales me and Claire about a client of hers who lost ten pounds doing intermittent fasting at first and then gained back twenty but then lost ten.

I notice a Post-it on the counter that says,The universe has your back, Claire Bear! Success and your soulmate are on the way!

Interesting.

While Claire pours me a cup of coffee and her mom’s back is to us, I mouth,We need to talk. In private.I signal back and forth between us.Aboutus.

She nods and hands me the coffee, just as the big dog starts nuzzling my crotch again. I put the mug down on the island counter and crouch down to give Dudley some much-needed attention. I guess Mrs. Sweeney thinks I can’t see her from this angle because she widens her eyes at her daughter, mouthing,Are you and Grady…?She bumps the sides of her wrists together repeatedly, like they did onFriends, but I don’t think it means what she thinks it means. Claire waves her mom away.

“You know what, the dogs need to go outside. Why don’t we…” Claire grabs a scone while ushering the dogs and me toward the back door.

“How many eggs do you want, Claire?!”

“Zero!”

“You need your protein!” her mom calls out.

We walk to the center of the lawn, the dogs running around us, and I finally say, “So, you do need your protein—she’s right.But about last night…”

Her mouth is still full of flaky, buttery scone when she replies, “Yes?”

“I had some sense that maybe I should apologize. But I’m not sorry about what happened. I don’t think it was a mistake.”

“Neither do I,” she states matter-of-factly.

It’s crazy how relieved I am to hear her say that. “Good. I’m glad. Because I?—”

“Grady Barber!” I hear from above. I look up to find Claire and Jake’s dad waving at me from a second-story window.

“Good morning, Mr. Sweeney.”

“Still callin’ me Mr. Sweeney.” He laughs. “I’m Bob! Hey, look at that suit, will ya?! Got any stock tips for a guy who’s hoping to retire early?”

“I am so sorry,” Claire says under her breath.

“That depends, Mr. Sweeney,” I call out, not too loudly in case some neighbors are still asleep.

“I’m Bob!” He chuckles. “Mr. Bob!” We’ve had this back and forth since I was a kid.

“I’d want a clear picture of your net worth and assets and liabilities, and your risk tolerance, before giving any real advice, Mr. Bob, since it’s a relatively short time horizon. But if you don’t already have a good real estate investment, that’s something to consider adding to your portfolio.”

“Hey,” Mr. Sweeney says. “I think I know a gal who could hook me up with some options.”

“I think you do too, sir.” I chuckle.

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