Page 8 of The Billionaire Is Back

“Is he there? Can I talk to him?”

Mom sighs. “No, he’s out on the beach with your brother. He’s supposed to take regular walks and eat better. He doesn’t want to eat better, so he thinks he can just walk constantly and that’ll cover for all the garbage he eats.”

A smile spreads across my face. Sounds about right. “Okay, I’m heading straight to you. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

“Love you too, honey. Drive safe!”

I hang up and make my way toward the garage.

There is a question, one I don’t want to answer. If the deal wasn’t done, if I was still locked in an epic struggle with Lynch for control of his company, would I go home?Would I be willing to take a leave of absence and risk losing so that I could go home and see my father? Given how shaken I am right now, I’d like to think the answer is yes. But I honestly don’t know. Thankfully the deal is done and I don’t have to answer right now if the news of my father’s heart disease would be enough to make me stop in my tracks.

Now that I know he’s okay and that I’m going home, there are only two questions weighing on me.

What does Claire look like now when her face is lit by firelight?

And will I find out?

Chapter 3

How Sweet It Is? (To Be a Bakery Owner)

Claire

Yay.

It’s the dawn of a new day, and I get to turn flour, water, butter, eggs, sugar, and chocolate into delicious treats.

Maybe today is the day my profiteroles will actually turn a profit.

I turn off the alarm on my phone and check for my daily positivity text from Vera.

VERA: Morning, babe. You are a bad ass.

Well, that’s just rude. And also incorrect. Andmost likely a typo.

ME: Really? I’m like 90% sure my ass is my best feature.

VERA: Wait. What?!

VERA: Badass! You are a badass. My eyes aren’t awake yet. You are a badass bakery owner!

ME: Honestly, at this point I’d settle for being a marginally okay bakery owner with a great ass.

VERA: You are definitely that. Whatever, it’s gonna be a great day! Or at least not a shitty one, probably! See you soon.

ME: Thanks for the poop talk.

I realize, after hitting Send, that my phone autocorrectedpeptopoop, which pretty much sums up the trajectory of my career as a small-business owner.

But I needed that laugh. When you get up at four o’clock every day, you have to make your own sunshine. And espresso. Vera is not a natural-born ray of light and she is definitely not a morning person, but she somehow loves me, my coffee drinks, and pastries enough to drag herself out of bed when the nocturnal animals are still out looking for food in the neighborhood.

They say that a bad day baking is better than a good day spent doing anything else. I have found this to be true. Except when I look at my bank balance at the end of the day. But I’m not going to think about that right now. Because maybe today really will be a not-shitty day.

Stretching out in bed, I am tired deep in my bones, but I think positive thoughts before getting up to take a quick shower…I was so lucky to be given the opportunity to purchase the mom-and-pop bakery that I apprenticed in at the ripe young age of twenty-six. Yes, I took over the lease and bought the name of an existing bakery, but I totally revamped it, so it counts as a new business. I am equally lucky that my parents still own the house that I grew up in and that they didn’t turn my old bedroom into a craft room or a sex dungeon so I was able to move back in here a few months ago. New businesses almost always take three years to become profitable. So I still have half a year left to make more than I spend on bills, rent, taxes, Vera’s salary, inventory, and loan payments…all of which I am lucky to have! Not making a significant profit doesn’t count as failure yet—this is just how new businesses work. Not wasting money on rent for living space is just good business sense at this point in my life and career. And these sheets somehow smell better when Mom does the laundry.

There.

Now I’m ready for my shower. I definitely won’t cry into the warm stream of water just because I’m exhausted and haven’t had a vacation in over three years. I certainly won’t think about how lame the dating pool is in Beacon Harbor, and I absolutely won’t think about the boy I used to fantasize about when I was living in this house as a teenager.

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