The Billionaire's Boyfriend

  “Nothing,” Owen said. “What can I do for you?”

  “We heard Zach’s coming home for Christmas, and we want to host on the twenty-eighth floor,” Stacey said. “You, the boys, Gina.”

  “Just the six of us?” Owen asked. “What about Lexie and Sasha and all the others?”

  “Lexie and Sasha are going on a cruise with Gabi,” Stacey said. “Jasper and Jason are going too, obviously. Esther is spending the holidays with Marshall’s parents. So it’s just us, and we’d like to have you and the boys with us.” She smiled at him in that loving, sisterly way that Owen needed in his life.

  “I’ll talk to Gina.” He started to move past Stacey and Fisher.

  “About Christmas,” Stacey said. “And that ring you keep in your top drawer.”

  Owen spun back to them, his eyes wide. “You told her?” He couldn’t look away from Fisher.

  He chuckled. “Look, she has a way of learning things,” Fisher said. “It’s not my fault.”

  Owen’s anger faded as quickly as it had reared. “I want to ask her, but I’m not sure she’s ready.”

  “Why don’t you find out?” Fisher opened Owen’s office and went inside. He returned a few seconds later with the black jewelry box. “You won’t know until you ask.”

  “Let her tell you if she’s ready or not,” Stacey said. “Maybe she’s just waiting for you to ask.”

  Owen took the box with numb fingers. “I was just on my way up to see her. She should have the last closet done today.”

  “Go on, then.” Fisher’s kind smile seemed a bit at odds with his wolfish grin.

  Owen took the ring out of the box and slipped it into his breast pocket. He handed the box to Stacey and said, “This could be a huge mistake.”

  “Or a huge win,” she said.

  The ring felt like a brand over Owen’s heart. “All right. Here I go.”

  “Text us!” Fisher called after him, but Owen had to focus all his energy on walking and couldn’t respond.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Gina lined up the last hanger, knowing it would get moved the moment the client entered the closet. She didn’t care. This was the last closet at Sweet Breeze, the end of a huge, seven-month project that she’d busted her back to finish on time.

  Satisfaction sang through her, despite the fact that tomorrow, she didn’t have another job lined up. She needed some time off after putting in eighteen-hour days for the last three weeks.

  Stepping back, she said, “It’s done.” A smile accompanied the statement, and she wished Owen were beside her. He was due to arrive any moment, and Gina stood in the closet hoping he’d get there soon.

  “Gina,” he said from behind her, and she left the closet and hurried through the bedroom.

  “Come see,” she said. “It’s done.”

  Owen grinned at her, because it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this exact closet several times already. But he humored her, took her hand in his, and let her lead him into the master closet she’d finished in half the time she thought she could.

  “Stunning,” Owen said. “As always.” He drew her into his side and admired the closet, just the way Gina wanted him to. He didn’t feel as relaxed as he usually did, and she glanced at him.

  “How’s Zach?”

  “Doing great. Got there. Got unpacked. Found a job.”

  And now he was speaking in very short sentences. Not good.

  “Gina, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

  Of course he did, and Gina actually liked that he did. “All right.”

  “You can say whatever you feel, as always.”

  “I will.” Her anxiety started to rise, just like it always did when Owen brought her a serious conversation topic. They’d had so many important discussions, and Gina only knew of one more that needed to happen.

  Owen shifted so that he stood in front of her. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a diamond ring.

  Gina gasped, sucking at the air. “Owen.”

  “I don’t want to rush you,” he said, keeping his head ducked and his eyes on the glittering gem. “But I’m in love with you, and I want you to be my wife.” He finally lifted his eyes to hers, and Gina let his words roll through her.

  Wife.

  She’d never wanted to be a wife.

  But she did want to be Owen’s wife, and that was a big distinction.

  “What do you think?” he asked. “Jasper helped me pick it out, and I’ve just been holding onto it while I watched to see if you might be ready. But then….” He shrugged, and he was absolutely adorable.

  “I thought maybe we could at least start talking about it.”

  “We can talk about it.”

  He moved to put the ring away, and she said, “Wait, whoa, wait. Where are you putting that?”

  Their eyes locked, and Gina wasn’t sure what she was saying. So Owen’s next question—“What are you saying?”—was really hard to answer.

  “I—I mean…I love you, too.” She reached up and stroked her hand down the side of his face. “You know that, right?”

  “I do know that.” Owen leaned forward and kissed her quickly. “Tell me what you’re afraid of. What’s worrying you about us getting married.”

  “Living arrangements,” Gina said, almost blurting it out. “I just bought my place, and I know it’s stupid, but I love being right on the beach. But I can’t—I won’t—take Cooper out of his childhood home.”

  Owen nodded. “It’s a valid concern.”

  Gina was sure he’d thought about it too. After all, no one knew her better than Owen.

  “What else?” he asked.

  Gina wound her hands around the back of his neck. “You know what? There is nothing else.”

  Owen’s lips curved up and he said, “I have a solution for your living arrangements problem.”

  Gina giggled. “I’m sure you do.”

  “I don’t want to dislodge Cooper either. So I propose we get married as fast as possible.” He bent his head toward hers and kissed her, capturing her lips completely and telling her how much he wanted her. Wanted her in his home, in his life…in his bed.

  “And then you move in with us.” His voice came out as barely a whisper. “Keep the beach house. We’ll go down there all the time. Run the two miles down to the beach, make coffee, enjoy the sunrise, and run home to get ready for the day.”

  He kissed her again, and Gina really liked his solution so far. “And then?”

  “And then, once Cooper moves on with his life, we’ll move to your place together. Make it our home, right there on the beach.” He swayed back and forth, and Gina would dance anywhere with him. Including the couple of miles up the road to his house until Cooper was finished with high school.

  Gina closed her eyes and imagined dancing with him like this while she wore a white dress. It was everything she wanted, and not a stitch of fear existed inside her.

  “All right, Owen,” she said, pulling back and gazing up at him. “I’ll marry you.”

  His eyes lit up. “Yeah? Don’t sound so excited about it.”

  She laughed, tipping her head back and letting him hold her around the waist. She sobered and met his eye. “I love you, Owen. Of course I want to marry you.”

  “As soon as possible.” He grinned. “I fell in love with you right here in a closet like this one, and I can’t wait to make a life with you.”

  Tears pricked Gina’s eyes, and she kissed Owen like she’d never kissed him before. “Will you put that ring on my finger now, please?”

  Owen chuckled as he slid the ring on her left hand and then kissed her like he really, truly loved her.

  Gina soaked him in, never wanted to be without him, and pulled away with a grin. “Do you think Christmas is soon enough for a wedding?”

  “Sweetheart, I’d marry you tomorrow.”

  “Well, I think the ladies in the Beach Club would kill me if we did that. Christmas is only three months away.” A blip of panic puls
ed through her. Three months.

  “I guess I can wait three more months,” Owen said, kissing her again, and with the weight of the ring on her finger, Gina had never been happier in her life.

  Hope you loved Owen and Gina! Please leave a review for them now.

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  Read on for a sneak peek of the first chapter of THE BROKE BILLIONAIRE, coming soon in Kindle Unlimited!

  Sneak Peek! The Broke Billionaire Chapter One

  “You’re not considering the job, are you? I’d rather be homeless than work for Tiffany Louis.” A woman all-but sewn into her bright pink and green spandex running clothes and carrying a small silicone-covered dumbbell in each hand stopped in her bouncing jog beside Kaelin. She leaned over his shoulder, pressing her chest against his arm, flashing him a nosy smile which showcased the creases of her lipstick leaking from the cracks in her aging lips.

  Blue eyeliner and the neon green of her running clothes juxtaposed and gave off a screaming 1980s vibe. Her perfume didn’t do her any favors either.

  Kaelin didn’t smile as he stared at her. He hadn’t asked for her opinion or for her to stop and tell him what he should think about the advertisement for work. The flier was stapled to the telephone pole at the start of the beach entrance, its tags fluttered in the ocean wind. He arched an eyebrow and held his tone deadpan as he replied, “Thank you. I’m homeless. A job is a job.”

  The woman’s eyes widened as she stopped bouncing and scanned his form for signs of his poverty. Kaelin didn’t care that she would see his designer board shorts, seven-hundred dollar button-up shirt, or his Italian leather flip-flops and doubt him. She hadn’t slept on the beach the night before or the night before that or even before that.

  If he gave her his name, she’d call him a liar about being homeless. Kaelin Steed was known for his money and his work on a job that joined multiple communities toward prosperity. The old Kaelin Steed, anyway.

  Kaelin turned from her with clear dismissal in his mannerisms. He might be poor now, but just a week ago he’d had billions at his disposal.

  The woman leaned in, thick perfume coming off her in an attempt to pollute his breathing air. She tapped the ad with a sparkly fingernail and narrowed her eyes. “Well, you belong together. If you do get hired, tell her it’s inappropriate to staple things to the poles. It’s tackier than that beat-up truck she drives around.” The woman sniffed at Kaelin’s lack of response and turned, restarting her odd bouncing movement that was supposed to be a jog, but looked more like a spastic dance carrying her forward.

  Kaelin sighed, staring at the black and white hiring sign. He reached into his pocket and fingered the last few dollars he had left for food. He was down to seven. Seven. That wasn’t enough to buy him a can of Spam and bread. Not on the island.

  Shaking his head, Kaelin tried to contain his panic. He’d never been without money. He’d never been without anything. Growing up as a Steed in a world where money mattered, he’d known where he belonged—on top.

  Now, though, with the death of his grandfather, everything was on its head. The will had declared no one would have access to anything they hadn’t earned themselves in the family company or saved from their dividends.

  Kaelin had worked in the VP offices but he’d spent everything he earned and then some. He’d never known about budgeting or known a shortage of money.

  When Meema had hugged him goodbye at the airport, she’d looked him straight in the eye. Her own had sparkled with tears as she’d said, “What makes a person a better man was the time spent as a have-not, when they had to learn how blessed they were to be a have.” She’d patted his shoulder with a gnarled, beloved hand. “You have always been a have, Kaelin-son. It’s time for you to grow.”

  Well, Kaelin had been thrust into being a have-not and he hadn’t learned anything except he had to watch for the Getaway Bay police department’s morning searches for vagrants—no, searches for him—around six every morning. He was a vagrant. He was homeless. And once these seven dollars disappeared, he’d be forced to be a beggar.

  That’s what he had learned so far—that police were consistent and food cost money he didn’t have.

  He refocused on the ad with its handwritten call for help on faded, crinkly paper.

  Hiring! Work for the local shave ice company that is taking Getaway Bay by storm. Requirements – shirt, shoes, and attention to detail. Look for the truck by the beach entrance and ask for Tiffany.

  Tiffany. Kaelin ran his fingertips along the edge of the paper that had been cut into thin strips with the name of the company written in bold on each strip for someone to tear off. None of them had been taken.

  Rainbow Shave Ice and Cones.

  Kaelin narrowed his eyes and lifted his gaze from the paper to stare in the direction the truck sat.

  The white front box-style truck wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination, but it gave off the feeling of the local ice cream truck from when he was a kid. It didn’t take much to pretend music would come from hidden speakers at any time, announcing it was there to collect their money and deliver goodness.

  Kaelin tried catching a glimpse of the woman he now had a name for. Tiffany. That was the red-head’s name. Her spitfire green eyes had watched him in return as he’d claimed his spot on the bench every night before the sun dipped below the ocean’s line for the last week.

  Had he had more than the last few cents to his name, he would have approached her and bought a shave ice and talked to her. But his confidence had left him. Apparently, he had more of his identity wrapped up in his money than he’d been comfortable admitting.

  How could he ask her out when she’d have to pay or worse, he would have to take her back to his place? She’d see that his place was on the beach with sand for carpet and his electricity was powered by the sun.

  No. As much as he wanted to introduce himself and get to know the woman who showed up every day precisely at ten and left no earlier than nine-thirty every night, he couldn’t. He wasn’t himself. He was no longer Kaelin Steed. He was someone he was ashamed to look at in the public bathroom mirrors. He was no longer the man he thought he was.

  The woman who had interrupted him wasn’t the first one Kaelin had heard from about not applying for the job. He’d been watching the fliers for the last three days. Tiffany had posted them all over Getaway Bay a few weeks ago—according to the locals. She’d ignored their anger from her actions and looked the other way as she’d stirred up irritation throughout the community. She’d held her head high and continued about her business.

  Kaelin had watched as tourists clamored for the shave ice from the truck that was right by the beach. Her business model was strong—bring the product to the customers. Eliminate the need to leave the beach. She’d seen a need and she filled it. Why wasn’t anyone else amazed by this?

  Every time her red hair had slipped out the window of the truck as she’d delivered items to customers or taken their money, Kaelin held his breath, watching from his bench. Yes, his bench. He didn’t go far from it. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. Plus, he had the best view on the island when Tiffany would step outside the truck-style van and bend over the motor and refrigeration equipment.

  Her long legs led up into forever under shorts that were neither too long nor too short. She wore tank tops with a modest collar and her makeup was always precise.

  In fact, until he’d learned her name, he’d called her Precise in his head.

  What would he say if he introduced himself? Well, before the ad, before he’d lost everything, he probably would have asked her to take a helicopter ride with him. But his helicopter, plane, and boat were under lockdown while the company legal team figured out what was going on and which direction the company and the family money would go.

  Meema had asked Kaelin to check in with her once a week before sending him back to her hometown. He still hadn’t figured out how to acquire a phone to d
o what she’d asked. His pride had taken a hit and when he’d left in a huff, he hadn’t looked back even though his regret was instantaneous at leaving everything behind.

  The texture of the ad paper between his fingers pushed him to go. The paper he wanted to feel was green and valuable. If he could get over the menial part of the job, he wouldn’t have a problem feeding himself. And food. He needed food. His mind kept wandering.

  Jerking the entire ad from its position on the pole, Kaelin stepped onto the pavement from the cement sidewalk. His sandals ground the sand against the blacktop as he strode across the filling parking lot. Barely afternoon in the middle of the week and the lot was half-full with rental cars, local beaters, and a tourist bus.

  With Sweet Breeze sharing their beach with the public access, there was never any shortage of people walking amongst the cabanas and Adirondack beach furniture.

  Hotel security monitored the northern curve of the beach just in front of the resort while the police department monitored the southernmost end of the curve, just before the jut out of the lava rocks that created the majority of the bay atmosphere.

  Well, for the west bay. The east bay shared the small peninsula with the west, but it too had a natural land lock-style to its beaches and business area that was similar to the west bay but with a lot more sand and natural landmarks.

  The afternoon breeze blew calmly off the ocean, as if pushed along by the waves crashing onto the sandy shore. It ruffled Kaelin’s hair back from his forehead and he reached up to rub at the stubble on his jaw. If he was going for a possible job, his appearance wouldn’t do—at least he could button up his shirt and try to make his hair more manageable. Or he could just brush back his hair. He didn’t have a comb or a brush, or anything except his toothbrush which he’d snapped in half and put the brush head into his pocket so he could carry it with him.

  His pride was constantly coming back to bite him. When he’d refused to take anything with him when he’d left, he’d had to grab a toothbrush from a convenience stand in an airport—costing him three dollars. Leaving without anything of his own or even stopping for cash was a decision he wanted to smack himself for every time he thought about it.