Page 55 of The Billionaire Is Back

“Dad! Are you peeing right now?”

I suddenly realize that her father is indeed speaking to us from their second-story bathroom.

“Just finished, honey!” He holds up both hands to wave. “Post-flush, pre-wash!”

“Daaaaaaaaaaad!” Claire makes the word six syllables long and coasts up and down several octaves.

“Well, it’s great to see you, Bob. Feel free to email me if you need more specific advice.”

“Will do, young man!” He gives me the thumbs-up. “We havin’ scones today, Claire Bear?”

“On the counter! Mom’s making eggs.” She turns back to me. “I guess you can drive me to get my car and we’ll talk on the way.”

“Great. Let’s do that.”

She lets the dogs back into the house, grabs my wrist, and pulls me in the direction of the driveway. But as we round the house, we find Jake climbing out of his truck.

“Hey. What up, G?”

And now I feel guilty, like I should apologize. Speaking to Jake about all of this was at the top of my mental to-do list before I went to sleep last night, but then I woke up thinking about Claire and my car led me here.

“How’d you know I’d be here, Mr. Fancypants?” he asks, taking a big bite out of a big donut as he pulls a big box of donuts from the passenger seat of his truck.

I calmly button up my suit jacket, realizing I must have subconsciously decided there was less of a chance Jake would beat the shit out of me if I was wearing a nice suit. I shrug. “It’s my job to know things, Jakey.”

“Well, it’s my job tofix things. Ma wants me to look at the boiler. Come on.” He leads the way to the side entrance to the basement.

Her mouth full of scone, Claire says to her brother as he walks past her, “Good morning to you too, asshat.”

“Good morning to you, asshole,” he says, mouth full of donut. “You make scones?”

“On the kitchen counter.”

I’ll be right back,I mouth to Claire.

Claire grimaces.I hope so,she mouths back, giving me the thumbs-up just like her dad did.

She’s so cute,I think to myself as I descend the cement stairs to the basement with my big, hulking best friend. I suddenly get a strong sense of what Claire was talking about on the boat last night—this dark, dank basement would be the perfect place to kill the man who made out with your sister.

Jake takes a seat in a folding chair and grabs another donut. “Want one?”

I shake my head. “You going to work on the boiler?”

“Nah. There’s nothing wrong with it. My mom worries too much. What’s up? You wanna hang out?”

“No.” I take a deep breath. “There’s something I have to tell you. And ask you. And explain.”

“Shoot,” my best friend of forever says generously, without a hint of suspicion, as he admires the jelly in his donut.

I’m not Catholic, but I mentally cross myself. “I have feelings for your sister.”

Jake stops chewing. His eye twitches. His nostrils flare. He clenches a fist. “What kind of feelings?”

“Real feelings. Romanticfeelings.”

Jake begins chewing again, his donut and my words. Finally, he asks, “How long have you had these real, romantic feelings?”

“A long time. But I never acted on them. Out of respect for you. For her. I knew she wouldn’t want to leave Beacon Harbor, and I knew I needed to be in New York.”

---