Page 6 of How Sweet It Is (Willow Shade Island #3)

A laugh bubbles up from my chest. Her reaction was great. She was going to find out about my money eventually, so I decide to rip the Band-Aid off. “Yeah.”

“You have over two million dollars in a checking account ?” Her voice squeaks, and I find it adorable. She’s normally a stuffy little auditor, but I love it when I can fluster her.

I lean back in my chair and put my hands behind my head and give her a flirty smile. “Yep.”

She looks at me like I’m crazy. “Where did you get that kind of money?”

A ping of sadness runs through me, and I look down at my lap. “My parents left me an inheritance when they died.”

Amelia sucks in a breath and puts her hand on my arm, which causes warmth to travel across my skin. “Oh, Levi. I’m sorry.”

“It happened a long time ago.”

Her features soften. “How old were you?”

“Twelve.”

“You and your brothers were so young. That’s tragic.”

“It was really hard, but my oldest brother stepped up and became our guardian so we could stay together. It made us quite close.”

She pulls back from me. “I’m glad you had your brothers to help you through that.”

“Me too.”

She turns back to the computer. “Okay. The first thing we’re going to do is get you a business account. And then you’re going to invest the bulk of this money. It’s not safe sitting in a checking account.”

I squint at her. “Money isn’t safe in the bank?”

“Checking accounts are only insured up to $250,000 by the federal government. That means if the bank fails, you could lose almost all of your inheritance.”

That’s not all of my inheritance, but I don’t correct her. I blink at her, feeling stupid. “That can happen?”

“Yes. Banks can fail. It’s rare, but it happens.”

“I didn’t know that. My brother tried to talk to me about investing and what to do with my inheritance, but it was all just blah blah blah, and his words jumbled together.”

Amelia squints at me, and I can’t quite tell what she’s thinking, so I press on. “I mean, I was so interested in starting up my business that I didn’t listen to him.”

She clicks on my transactions. “That’s all right. I can help you. Right now, I need to get your books in order.”

We spend the next hour going over my expenses, and Amelia enters them into her accounting software. She’s not happy with how much I spent to acquire the bakery and all the equipment, but at least she doesn’t scold me.

As she enters the last of my expenses in her spreadsheet, her stomach growls loudly. Her cheeks flush pink, and I hold in a laugh. She is adorable when she’s embarrassed.

I elbow her arm. “Was that your subtle way of asking if I’d take you to dinner?”

Amelia’s eyes widen. “Absolutely not.”

I chuckle and stand. “Come on. Your stomach has already said yes. Let’s go get something to eat. My treat.”

She frowns. “I don’t date people I work for.”

Wow. What is up with this woman? “It’s not a date,” I say, reaching over and shutting her laptop. “I’m done with bank accounts and ledgers. I want to feed you something before your stomach alerts all of Willow Shade Island that your boss is starving you.”

I turn before she has a chance to object, and I walk out of the office. Then I stop and call over my shoulder, “Coming?”

She huffs, but I hear her gather her things. A moment later, she joins me, and we walk outside together. “What kind of food do you like?” I ask.

“I like everything. I just can’t eat—” She stops in the middle of her sentence.

“Can’t eat what?”

She shrugs and avoids eye contact. “I can’t eat sugar in the morning.”

I hold in an eye roll, because I think she’s lying about that whole cupcake thing, but I let it go. “But eating dinner right now is okay?”

She nods and says, “Yeah.”

“Does Mexican sound good?”

“Sure.”

I motion to my motorcycle. “Want a ride?”

She looks like she actually is considering it for a second before she frowns and shakes her head. “No.”

“Come on, Spreadsheet. Wind in your hair, arms around me. It’s like therapy, only louder.” I grin at her as I pull my helmet off my handlebars.

She stares at me, and I can’t tell if I’ve convinced her or not.

“Just promise you won’t fall for me,” I tack on. I give her a playful wink to see if I can make her cheeks turn red again.

“I’ll follow you in my car,” she says flatly, and I’m not rewarded with any flushed cheeks, which is too bad. I like making her blush. I take it as a challenge.

“Suit yourself.” I pull on my helmet and hop on my motorcycle. I kick-start the engine and rev it. Miss Spreadsheet jumps at the sound, and I hold in another chuckle as she snarls at me.

She slides into her Volkswagen, and I wait for a second before taking off to make sure she’ll follow me. I head to the other side of the island, where my favorite Mexican restaurant sits by the ocean. I pull into the parking lot of La Cantina del Sol.

Amelia pulls into the space next to me and cuts her engine. She pulls out her phone and types on it for a moment before getting out of her car.

“Texting someone?” I ask.

She slips her phone into her purse. “Just my cousin.”

We walk up the sidewalk to the restaurant, and I open the door for her.

She shoots me a glare. “This isn’t a date. You don’t have to open doors for me.”

I glare right back at her. “I’m not opening it because it’s a date. I’m opening it because you’re bossy and I’m slightly afraid of you.” I motion for her to walk forward.

She laughs, and my goal shifts. Now all I want to do is make her laugh again.

We get a table on the back patio overlooking the ocean, and Amelia’s face glows as she looks out at the water. I pick up my menu, but she doesn’t even glance at hers. She just sits there, staring out at the waves.

“You like the ocean.”

She smiles. “Yeah. I love how peaceful it is.”

I watch her instead of perusing my menu. She’s prettier than I first thought, and I’m not sure if it’s her expression as she takes in the view or if I just hadn’t taken the time to notice the curve of her cheekbones or her perfectly proportioned lips.

A strand of her hair has come loose from her bun, and it blows in the breeze, softening her somehow.

Before now, I had thought of her as a human calculator, all numbers and hard edges.

But as her deep-brown eyes reflect the sunlight, I see something different in her. There’s a beauty there I missed.

I set my menu down. “What was living in Kansas like?”

“Kansas?” she asks, almost absentmindedly, like she’s not really listening to me.

“Yeah, that state you lived in before moving here.”

She turns to me, blinking. “Oh. Yes. I lived in Kansas before I moved here.” Her bottom lip twitches, and she won’t look me in the eye.

Why is it I feel like she’s lying to me again? I fold my arms and try to figure her out. “I asked what it was like.”

Her face flushes, and it’s not the kind of blush I wanted to see. It’s the kind that tells me she’s a liar, liar, pants on fire. “It was fine. Lots of farms. Pretty boring, actually.” Another lip twitch.

What the ever-loving heck? Why is she lying about where she’s from? I sit quietly for a minute, and she goes back to looking at the ocean. I wait until she’s not thinking about me anymore, then I quietly ask, “Have you worked retail before?”

She doesn’t look at me. “Yes. My family owns a business, and I worked the register a lot.”

I slowly nod. That was the truth. “What kind of business?”

She jerks her head toward me, her eyes wide. “What?”

“What kind of business?” I repeat.

She fiddles with the hem of her suit jacket. “Retail.”

What kind of answer is that? “Selling what?”

She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It’s a small-town grocery store.” She kind of stumbles over the words, and I can tell she’s lying again.

What on earth is this woman hiding? Why is she lying about something like this? And do I need to be worried about my bank information that I just shared with her? “What college did you go to?”

She tenses, a sudden wariness to her. “Why?”

“I just want to know.” I pick up my menu again, but I don’t look at it. I stare at her.

“Kansas State.” Lie.

“What high school?” I ask quickly.

“Wichita North High School,” she shoots back at me, rapid-fire. Another lie.

“Where were you born?” I ask.

“Manhattan, Kansas.” Lie. “Why are you asking me so many questions?”

Because you’re lying to me. I shake my head. I don’t want to tell her I know she’s lying. I want to figure out if she’s a serial killer first. “No reason.”

She buries herself in her phone, and I bury myself in my menu, but I can’t stop wondering what is up with her. Why is she here on Willow Shade Island, lying about where she’s from? Is she here hiding from the law?

She looks harmless, but is she? This morning, she came to my rescue. I thought maybe I was wrong about her, but now I know something is off with her. Big-time.

The waitress comes and takes our orders. I watch Amelia as she picks her phone back up, shutting me out. I don’t even pretend to look at the ocean. I blatantly stare at her.

A man walks up to our table, and Amelia smiles and sets down her phone. “Hello, Rafe.”

I take in his wide chest, beefy arms, and movie-star smile, and I instantly hate him.

He nods at me. “You must be Levi. Amelia’s told me all about you.”

I quirk one eyebrow. “She has? Funny. She hasn’t told me anything about you.”

He sticks out a hand. “I’m Rafe, her cousin. Care if I join you?”