Page 56 of The Billionaire Is Back

“So what’s changed?”

Nothing. Everything.“Your sister is great, Jake. Really great. I’ve been spending some time with her since I got back—you know, because of her bakery—and I just can’t deny it anymore.”

Jake studies my face, harder than I’ve ever seen him study anything. He reads me for longer than I’ve ever seen him spend time on a book. Without blinking, he asks, “She feel the same way?”

“I think so.”

Jake polishes off the donut, brushes off the sugar from his fingers, and stands up from the chair to his full height. He is a large man and this is a small, dark space. He stares me down. His expression is inscrutable. I can feel my heart thumping inside my chest. I have never, ever known Jake to be this quiet. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t give me a beatdown. But I saw him intimidate a lot of guys who were hitting on Claire in high school, so I’d say there’s a fifty-fifty chance my suit and I make it out of here unscathed.

But I’d take a beating for Claire.

Jake raises his hand, and I don’t flinch. He scratches his chin and then holds his big, meaty handout to me.

I take it.

“Thanks for telling me,” he says. “I guess if I wanted her to be with anyone it would be my billionaire best friend.”

“Thanks, Jake.”

He places his other hand on my shoulder and grips my hand tighter. Not quite a viselike grip, but we both know he could break all the bones in my hand right now if he wanted to. “Just make sure you do right by her,” he says, his voice deeper than usual.

“I will. I promise. I’m gonna go find her. You coming up?”

“Nah. I want Ma to think I’m making a real effort down here.” He takes an apple fritter from the box and settles back down onto the folding chair.

I go through the door to the rec room in the basement and get hit with a flash memory of me, Jake, and Claire playingRock Banddown here one night when their parents were away.

The chorus of “More Than a Feeling” is the triumphant soundtrack in my head as I bound up the stairs. This is it. I always get a rush like this. I can always feel it in my gut when a deal is coming together, and it feels like the deal of a lifetime is coming together now. Combing my fingers through my hair, I enter the kitchen, ready for the next part of my life to start.

Claire is leaning against the counter, picking at another scone. Her mom is speaking to her, voice barely above a whisper, looking very concerned about something. I can’t hear what she’s saying, and neither can her dad, who is doing squats while eating an omelet at the kitchen table.

I pick up the jumper cables that Claire left on the little desk by the door. “Should we head out?”

Claire glances over her shoulder at me and sighs. I can’t tell what the sigh means. It’s nothing like her sighs from last night. “I need to get something from my room,” she says. Giving her mom a look that I also don’t understand, she brings her scone with her, and I follow her up to the second floor, leaving the jumper cables in the foyer.

It is surreal, going up these stairs with Claire to her old room, when I spent so much of my youth in Jake’s room down the hall. I don’t think I ever set foot inside her bedroom, even when she was little. That door with the stickers and theDo Not Enter Unless You’re Holding a Cakesign was a boundary I wouldn’t cross.

But I’m crossing it now. There are more old magazine tear-out photos of Food Network stars pinned to these walls than posters of singers or actors. And a calendar with a headshot and recipe from a popular baking show host for this year. But really, there are more pictures of the guy who used to hostCupcake Warsthan I’m comfortable with.

She shuts the door behind me. We both take a deep breath at the same time. Look at each other. Laugh.

And then I take a step toward her, cup her beautiful, sweet face in my hands, and kiss her. Because it no longer makes sense not kissing her and we have a lot of time to make up for. She doesn’t lean into it right away, but she doesn’t pull back either. I keep kissing her. Everything I was planning to tell her can be declared with the caress of my lips, the sweep of my tongue. A revelation told to her mouth instead of her ears. She emits one of those sighsfrom last night, I hear the half-eaten scone hit the floor, and her fingers are in my hair. Her tongue tastes like sugar and butter and my fantasy, my history, and my future all at once.

Quietly groaning, I reach down to grab her ass and hoist her up. She wraps her legs around my waist, gasping and whispering my name and the words “God dammit” as I back her up against the wall. Some part of my brain retains a vague memory of Claire’s family being in the house with us, but most of me just wants to claim her body right here and now. I’ll spend the rest of my life earning her heart and soul.

I press my lips against the soft skin of her cheek, her jaw, her neck. She tilts her head to the side, exposing it to me, surrendering herself to my passion. But then she jerks her head up. Her whole body stiffens. I feel her hands pressing against my chest.

“Grady. Grady.” She’s breathless, but her hushed voice gives me pause. “We’re here to talk,” she reminds me.

“Right.” I hold her waist as she lowers her feet to the floor and step away from her, adjusting my pants and jacket. Licking my lips, I rest my hands on my hips and launch into it, since we might get interrupted again. “Like I said last night, I’ve had real reasons for holding back my feelings about you. But after last night, I realize those reasons are like anything else that has ever stood in the way of what I want. The obstacles aren’t what matter. It’s what I want that matters. I want you, Claire.”

She catches her breath and stares at my mouth as Ispeak, as if she can’t believe the words she’s hearing are actually coming out of there.

I cup her face in my hands again, stroke her cheekbones with my thumbs. “I want to be with you and make you happy. I don’t want to fake anything with you. What we have is real. I want you to come to New York with me—as my girlfriend. For real.”

I can feel her trembling. Her eyes finally meet mine. The only thing she could possibly see in them is how much I care about her. My Little Sweeney. She takes in a deep, shaky breath, opens her pretty, swollen lips, and says firmly… “No.”

Chapter 15

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