Page 7 of The Business of Love Box Set 1: Books 1 - 4

VANESSA

I watched his back as he went and tried to collect my jaw and my brain from where it had apparently gotten lost on the kitchen floor.

Nannie cleared her throat. “Back to what we were talking about.”

“I’m good with me.” I handed her the frying pan. “You make Sandi something to eat. I’m going to go brush the shit sandwich you keep feeding me out of my teeth.”

“ Vanessa .” Nannie’s voice was sharp with disapproval.

I didn’t care. I couldn’t keep it together any longer in the face of her relentless torment. Tears burned my gaze as I rushed out of the kitchen and down the hall to my old bedroom. I pushed through the door, closed it behind me, and pressed my shoulder blades to the wood as the tears overtook me.

My room still looked as I’d left it. The walls were a muted periwinkle blue.

Boy-band posters covered the walls, along with magazine clippings and Polaroid photos of me and my family and our old dog, Peanut.

I pushed off the door and walked a lap around the room, pausing at some of the pictures and then at my dresser, which held all my old nail polishes and notebooks and hair ties.

Then I moved to the bed.

“Why does she have to be so damn mean?” I mumbled and dropped down onto the floral-patterned duvet.

I looked tearfully around at my preserved teenage bedroom.

There was still glitter glue stuck to the nightstand from where I’d had the bright idea when I was twelve to try to DIY it My Little Pony style.

My mom had always encouraged self-expression for me and Chris, and she’d cringed at the suggestion to turn my room into an at-home gym.

She hated the idea of letting any of us grow up.

She swore up and down that I would always be her little girl and she would do anything for me.

But why didn’t she defend me when it came to Nannie, her own mother? She saw how much it hurt me. She knew the scars I bore from years and years of cruel comments.

A soft knock at the door had me getting up and wiping my eyes. “I’ll be right out.”

“It’s just me.” My brother stuck his head in the room. “Nannie is an old crow. You know she does that shit to you because she’s lonely and has gang-green on her cankles.”

I sniffled and smiled. “Liar.”

“But I’m funny. Does that redeem me?” He opened the door a little wider. It creaked softly in invitation. “Do you remember my best friend from school, Rhys?”

I laughed in spite of myself and the tears running down my pudgy cheeks. “Of course, I remember Rhys Daniels. Who couldn’t? He was—”

I stopped short when my brother stepped aside and gestured to Rhys, who had seemingly materialized from the hallway as if by magic.

Rhys shook his head in disbelief and came into my room with an outstretched hand. “No way you’re Vanny. Good Lord. You’re all grown up.”

And fat. And single. And dying of humiliation.

Fucking Chris.

The voice of my grandmother ran around in my skull, condemning me before I could stop it. I forced it back down and swallowed the lump in my throat. “That happens with donuts, dumplings, and time.” I shook his hand and tried to still my beating heart.

Everything silenced down inside me as I looked up into his ocean-blue eyes. His dark hair was cut shorter than the last time I’d seen him in the paper. The man was beyond beautiful.

He laughed. “I guess so. Sorry about your grandmother. She’s always been rowdy, if I remember correctly.”

My only focus was not to eye-fuck the poor man in front of me. His light-blue shirt made the color of his skin more tanned than it was, and the way his clothes fit him left very little to the imagination.

Wealth had been good to Rhys Daniels.

Hours in the gym had not been wasted either, from what I could tell.

“Congrats on your newest moonshine plant opening.” I pulled my hand from his strong, warm grip and stiffened when Chris disappeared from the door, running after Sandi down the hallway in jest. “I read about it. In the paper. Not that I read the paper because—you know—it’s the twenty-first century.

But we get the paper at work. So. Yeah.”

Shut up, Vanessa. You rambling idiot.

“Oh, thanks.” Rhys put his fists on his hips and smiled. He looked like a rich man’s Clark Kent. Surely, the angels sang a chorus of hallelujah. “I didn’t know you kept up with me.”

Kept up with him? How could you not? He was in every paper every other week.

“You’re a local celebrity.” I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly very self-conscious about my outfit and very grateful for my cardigan.

His cheeks grew rosy. “Nah. Enough about me. Tell me about you. It’s been years. Did you stay here in Nashville or go off to school somewhere? What are you up to now?”

“Bear!” My mother’s voice filled up the hallway. Our family’s chocolate Labrador raced down the hall, his tail smacking against the walls as he went.

Saved by the dog.

I moved around Rhys and jogged after Bear. He was a good dog. Loyal, good-natured, and a bit dopey. But he was a bull in a china shop, especially when he got excited and there were so many people around.

I caught up with the dog and dug my fingers into the fur on his rump, giving him the scratches he loved. He looked up at me, his tongue lolling, his eyes begging for deeper scratches. I couldn’t help but smile. “Bear, come on back outside before you knock the house down, yeah?”

“Need help?” Rhys knelt down and cupped Bear’s face in his palms. Bear’s tail wagged more obnoxiously. “Hey, buddy. Aren’t you beautiful?”

“He’s new. Well, sort of new.” Chris walked up and took him by the collar. “Still has a lot to learn about restraint and his own strength. I’ll get him outside. Mom wants everyone back in the kitchen. Dinner will be ready soon.”

Chris tugged gently at Bear’s collar. The dog lurched forward. His thick chest bumped into my calf, sending me a little off-kilter. I stumbled back with a surprised gasp. Rhys grabbed my wrist and steadied me. “Whoa there. You all right?”

“Sorry. Clumsy.” I half-jerked my hand back like I’d touched a flame. “I should get back to helping with the food.”

“You didn’t answer me.” His voice was thick with playfulness as he hurried down the hall. I could hear his steps behind me. Hell, I could practically feel the heat of his body over my shoulder as he followed me into the kitchen.

“I know. It was intentional.”

His laugh rolled over me. Realization bit into me as he brushed past me, his arm softly grazing mine.

Holy shit balls.

Rhys Daniels was Mr. No Name. No. Yes . He had to be. Heat flushed from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.

My grandmother glanced over her shoulder as she stirred the dip in the crockpot. “Why are you all red, Vanny? Have you been running down the hallway?”

“What? No.” I walked to the sink and busied myself washing dishes.

I was right. Had to be. I’d spent enough time on the line with Mr. No Name to know that voice anywhere. And that deep masculine velvety laugh. It was him. My heart fluttered like a wild bird in my chest. I scrubbed vigorously at the grilled cheese pan until the scrub brush began uncoiling.

Chris interrupted me with a soft cough.

I yelped, dropped the pan with a loud clatter, and gathered it back up to rinse it off. I glared defiantly up at my older brother. “Why do you always need to sneak up on me?”

“I’m light on my toes.” Chris shrugged. Then he nudged my hip with his. “You all right, Vanny? If you need a couple more minutes, I can take over here.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. I’m sure.” I was not sure. I was confused.

How on earth was it possible that the stranger I’d been crushing on for nearly six months—who I only knew through anonymous phone calls—was my brother’s best friend?

The chances were slim to none, and yet here I was, about to sit down to dinner in my family home with Mr. No Name himself.

A billionaire.

Eep.

I set the clean pan aside and moved on to the other dishes in the sink. “Chris? Your friend Rhys, is he married?”

“No, but you’re not interested.” My brother put his arm around my shoulders and stared down at me. There was no playfulness in his eyes, just brotherly protectiveness. “He’s a terrible guy. Period.”

“I’m aware.” I nodded, thinking back to hearing my parents talk about Rhys every time he’d end up in the papers over the years. Some of it was good, and some of it wasn’t at all.

Playboy.

Slut.

Scoundrel.

Trust-fund baby.

“He’s in a long-term relationship anyway.

This girl he’s been dating for years. He’s going to ask her to marry him soon.

” Chris gave me another good squeeze and escorted Nannie out with him.

Chris was overly protective and he was a shit liar.

Not only that, but I had insider information from Rhys’s very own lips.

This long-term girlfriend of his had cheated on him. They were over.

I let go of a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

It didn’t matter. Rhys wasn’t my dream guy. At least I could put a face to Mr. No Name and move on.

That was a good thing, right?