Page 35 of The Renegade Billionaire

“Just the morning caffeine rush. You don’t have anything on the books until two.” Blissy hands me a much-needed extra-large coffee. The scent of vanilla and cinnamon hit my nose first, and my body finally relaxes. This is my idea of heaven—the perfect coffee and my little business in my quiet little town with all the people I love.

“Thanks, Blissy.”

“You’ve got it, kid. Word is your boys hit up Happi’s Hot House and filled the back of the truck with new plants.”

I press my lips together so I don’t say anything rude. Braxton promised me after dinner that first night that he wouldn’t let Pops keep spending money, and for the last couple of weeks, I think he’s kept a leash on Pops.

“Then they went to the Senior Center and played shuffleboard with some of Pops’ old friends before hitting up the high school.”

“What were they doing at the high school?”

“You got me. No idea with that one, but I heard that Pops was beaming at every stop.”

Guilt makes my palms sweaty. Pops is practically the mayor around here, but I’ve had to work so much lately so we don’t lose the inn that I haven’t been able to take him to all his favorite places. Perhaps Braxton’s stay is a blessing in disguise—if I can just get him to stop allowing Pops to spend money we don’t have.

“Okay.” I sigh. “The meditation group will be in the quiet room this afternoon, so I’m going to set it up for them. Let me know if you need anything.”

Trevon crosses the room and wraps me in a giant hug. He’s a huge teddy bear of a man who treats me and my friends like the big sisters he never had.

“You’re doing good, Miss Madi. Just remember that.”

I pat his back. “Thanks, Trevon. I’m fine, really. It was an unexpected morning, that’s all.”

He doesn’t believe me, but he goes back to his corner where he always does his homework. Happiness has been truly blessed with the best football players around—and they all have such big hearts.

Without another word to anyone, I enter the quiet room and begin moving furniture around for the class coming in later.

Once that’s finished, I check the snack order the football team placed for their mandatory study hall. Fall classes are in full swing, and Coach B. requires his boys to be in here at leastten hours a week during the season doing homework or studying plays.

By the time I sit in the back row of coworking spaces and attempt to plan my next three podcasts, I’m already exhausted—all the late nights are finally catching up with me. However, as soon as I start, I’m immediately lost in my work. I only wish it paid enough to take away my always-present financial anxiety.

Is it too much to ask for a quiet, stable life? Some people dream of exotic vacations and designer clothing, but not me. I just want to finally feel safe and at peace—it’s probably the only thing I’ve ever wanted.

An hour later, the meditation class filters out of the quiet room and gathers around Blissy’s caffeine stand. I scan the space and notice Braxton is sitting a chair away from me.

How long has he been there? There are several workspaces free, and he could’ve sat anywhere, but he chose to sit right here, close to me.

When I give him my full attention, he hands me a paper bag that smells like heaven.

“You didn’t,” I say, taking the bag and greedily inhaling the scent of cinnamon. I groan and lick my lips.

He shrugs. “Pops told me it was your favorite.”

Once the bag is open, I practically stick my entire face inside it. I would sell my kidney for Moravian sugar cakes from the Ravenels’ farm on Hickory Lane.

“Oh my God. I didn’t know they were selling these at the farm stand yet.”

“Ah.” He scratches at his chest, causing a smile to tip the corners of my lips. “Pops can be very convincing.”

“And where is my meddlesome grandfather?”

“Taking a nap. He saidIworehimout.” The sheepish expression he flashes melts some of my irritation from earlier.

“I’m sorry if he’s commandeering your time. I’ll speak to him.”

“No,” he blurts, then swallows hard and looks away. “It’s okay, really. We’ve sort of worked out a schedule.”

I groan. “Please don’t feel guilty about saying no to that old man. He can take it.”