Page 3 of Billion Dollar Vow (The Lincoln Brothers #4)

I pause, slowly chewing the crisp, sweet apple, a little surprised. She hasn’t asked about it in a while, and I kind of thought she’d forgotten. But I feel fine with her bringing it up now. “Of course.”

She shakes her head. “I know you love’d it, but man, it’s so expensive.”

I take another bite of my apple, letting her words sink in. She’s not wrong. “I’ll worry about that after I see it.”

I could hate the house. I've only seen pictures online and know how airbrushed and staged they usually are. Plus, it’s hard to let myself think it’s real sometimes.

I can barely afford lunch, but that’s the point.

Every penny I save now is one less reason I can’t buy the house later.

I keep telling myself it’s worth it… cutting corners, living with my brother, selling my paintings, skipping fancy meals I actually want.

But it’s hard to ignore the gap between where I am and where I want to be.

It feels like a dream, but if I keep working and saving, I’ll get there.

I’m making sacrifices now, because this house is more than just a place to live. It’s the future I want. And somehow, even though it feels like a stretch, it’s the one thing that keeps me going.

“What did you decide to draw today?” I ask to change the subject.

She gives me a knowing look. “The hospital.”

I smile. “Manifesting.”

“Exactly. When I finish both of my studies, I’ll be the best doctor that hospital’s ever seen. They won’t say no when I apply.”

She’s studying to be a doctor, but she’s also an artist. Although she has scholarships to cover her college tuition, she still finds time to hone her craft by taking classes with me.

We’re like-minded in that when we set our minds to something, we do what we can to achieve it, knowing we’ve been through worse obstacles.

“No one can say no to you anyway.” I giggle.

“True,” she says. “What did you draw?”

“A giant peony. Surprised?” I smile around my cup of tea as I sip it, waiting for her reaction.

She smirks. “Not at all, but I’m excited to see it.”

“Are you staying after lunch to paint the hospital?”

“Yeah, I’ve got time before I head home to study,” she says, shifting in her chair.

“Good. I want to paint too.” Smiling, I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

She glances at her phone. “Don’t you have work?”

“Not until five.”

“Okay, let’s hope it doesn’t take that long to paint.”

“It won't.” I glance at my watch. If we leave now, we should have plenty of time. “We better head back.”

She nods, grabbing our garbage to throw it away as we exit the room.

Inside the art room, the familiar smell of paint fills the air. The space feels like a second home, with walls lined with student work, sketches, unfinished canvases and a few bold splashes of color. The light from the windows reflects off the wooden easels and scattered art supplies.

While waiting for the next lesson, I set my purse down to finish my line work. When it’s time to set up my paints and easel, Mrs. Bennett comes over to check on us, giving me a soft smile. “What color flower are you painting today?”

I return her smile, a little spark of excitement bubbling up. “Pink.”

“I can’t wait to see it,” she says, moving on to Evelyn’s work.

I’m known for my nature paintings, something that started when I was young.

When things were tough at home, I’d escape to the garden.

Flowers were my hideout. My foster parents had a garden too, and when they found out I loved flowers, they expanded it.

The garden grew with me. Even now, I make a point to visit their garden whenever I go to see them.

And when I buy my own place, I want a large garden.

I get so lost in painting the soft pink and white peony that when Evelyn walks over and gasps, it makes me sit back to admire my finished work.

My head feels heavy and my knuckles ache, but gosh, it’s worth it.

“That’s incredible,” Mrs Bennett says, coming over.

“I’m really happy with it,” I say, feeling a mix of shyness and satisfaction at her compliment.

Looking at the finished painting, I can see what I pictured in my head. There’s one spot where the shadows could be deeper, but I’m not fixating on it. Not after Mrs. Bennett’s validation.

She moves on to the next table.

“Will you sell it?” Evelyn asks.

I shrug. “I’m not sure.” I’m torn between keeping it as a milestone in my artistic journey, while the practical side of me knows sales will fund my future house and garden. I usually sell my paintings at the shop here for extra money. They sell for a crazy amount, due to the Lincoln name.

I walk over to check out Evelyn’s painting, and it looks just like New York City General Hospital, brought to life with her vibrant colors.

I lean in for a closer look. “I love how yours turned out.”

Her eyes light up, and she beams, practically bouncing on her heels. “Thanks, I'll hang it in my bedroom.”

I snicker, but it dies on my tongue at the sound of heavy shoes walking through the classroom.

Designer shoes are not what you’d usually hear around here.

Naturally, it draws my attention, my gaze focusing on the man walking toward Mrs. Bennett.

I’d recognize that build mixed with swagger, no matter how many months have passed.

A cold wash of dread spreads through my chest.

Him .

My fingers tighten around the edge of the desk until my knuckles whiten, but I force my expression to remain neutral.

I lower my eyes to the canvas, pretending to concentrate on a detail in the bottom corner while positioning my body so my hair falls forward, partially covering my face.

The last thing I need is for him to recognize me.

“Well, hello, Oliver,” Evelyn mumbles.

“No, Evelyn, we don’t like cocky pricks.” No matter how hot they are. I don’t hold back. He’s my brother’s best friend, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him, even though he’s probably here looking for his mother, as she teaches classes.

She turns on me so fast, leaning across the table to argue. “Are you kidding? Look at him.”

“I am, unfortunately. You’d think with his money, he could afford a suit that fits.

” As I glance around the room, I can see every student here has their eyes set on him.

The women straighten their posture, and the men want to shake his hand.

I return my gaze to his pinstripe suit that sticks to him like glue.

“I bet you like him. You just pretend not to.” Evelyn snorts.

I stare at her, momentarily speechless, before muttering, “Trust me, that couldn’t be further from the truth.” The fact is, I did until he turned me down.

His shoes click, and he winks at me, as he comes to my side in front of Evelyn’s work. “Nice,” he says to Evelyn. She tucks her hair behind her ear, as if she’s loving his compliment.

I shift my weight slightly away from him, creating distance without being obvious about it.

He turns his attention to me, his eyes lingering a moment too long. My chest tightens as the familiar scent of his cologne brings back memories I’ve tried hard to bury. I breathe through my mouth instead of my nose, pretending he doesn’t affect me at all.

“I’ll make sure to tell my seamstress that her alterations need work.”

My mouth parts as a gasp slips. Fuck. He heard what I said. But I don’t let him see my embarrassment. Instead, I bite back. “It can’t be comfortable wearing a shirt that looks like it’s going to pop a button.”

He smirks, cocking his head slightly. “Are you checking me out, Karley Maddox?”

“You fucking wish.” I roll my eyes. What is it about him that has me seeing red? Plus, I hate it when he uses my full name. It reminds me of the times with my parents.

“Then how would you know I’m going to pop a button? My eyes are up here.” He points to his face, where his blue eyes are gleaming with delight. It adds to my temperature rising.

“Valid point,” Evelyn mumbles. My eyes dart to hers. I widen them to convey a silent are you serious?

She pinches her lips together, but the edges slip up.

“Even your friend agrees.” Oliver’s light tone pulls my gaze back to him. His eyebrow lifts in a silent challenge.

I’ll never admit to checking him out. “She’s a fan of yours. I'm not.”

He tips his head back and chuckles. Inside, I cringe at the attention he brings to the table.

Several heads turn in our direction, curious eyes darting between us, whispers starting to spread.

Mrs. Bennett pauses mid-sentence at the front of the room, her eyebrows raised.

I can feel Evelyn’s wide-eyed stare boring into the side of my face, along with at least half a dozen students who’ve stopped what they were doing to watch this unexpected interaction.

“There’s still time to win you over.”

“I’ve known you for a while now; it's not going to happen.”

His phone rings and he pulls it out. Hope blooms in my chest that maybe he’ll leave now. “I’m coming,” he says to whoever is on the line. He straightens his posture, and the smug grin is replaced by a tightness around his eyes. “Sorry, I’m going to have to end this conversation.”

“What a shame,” I say in a sarcastic tone.

He shakes his head as he slips his phone into his pocket.

“Goodbye, ladies,” he says, moving his gaze from Evelyn’s to mine before walking away.

After he’s out of earshot, Evelyn grabs my forearm. “God damn, he’s hot. And he better not tell his seamstress anything. The image of his ass in those pants is branded on my brain forever.”

I roll my eyes and step away to return to my seat. “You need to get laid.”

“I do. Let’s go out to a bar.”

If she wasn’t working, we could’ve gone out on Saturday, even though I don’t usually go out because of a few factors. One is work, two, I’m exhausted, and three, money. I don’t have money to waste when I’m saving for a house.

“Next time we both don’t work, let’s go to the one with the mechanical bull?”

Her face brightens, and her eyes shimmer. “You want to ride one?”