Page 79 of The Renegade Billionaire

He bellies up to the bar and orders a double bourbon with Savvy right behind him. She’s too quick for me to catch, and the next thing I know, they’re nose to nose. Savvy is close to six feet tall, but Greyson towers over her.

“You do not get to come in here and issue threats or promises, you jackass. Madison’s put up with enough shit, and if you’re about to cause more, you can get your ass right back on a plane and go home.”

His brow furrows, obviously not used to someone speaking to him that way. “Madison?”

Both Savvy and Clover look to me in confusion.

“Madi.” Clover’s voice wavers as she points to me.

Shock registers for less than a second before every expression is wiped from his face. He stares me down while lifting his glass to his lips. “Well now, you’re not old.”

Pressing three fingers into my temple, I try to work out what he’s talking about. “Why would I be old?”

The man smirks, and even though it feels a little condescending, I get the distinct impression there’s loving humor hidden in it too.

“It would appear my best friend has been holding out on me.”

Savvy puffs up her chest, ready to say something so snarky it could shatter Greyson’s glass, but I place a hand on her forearm, and she relents. These two already mix about as well as oil and water, and the last thing I need is a perpetual fight between my best friend and Braxton’s.

“Holding out on what?” I ask, but the music seems to get louder, and every hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

Slowly I turn toward the stage, and out of my periphery, I see that Savvy and Greyson do the same.

“What the hell is he doing?” Greyson asks with an uncomfortable laugh.

I can’t peel my gaze away from Braxton. Time stops, and the entire room tunnels until all I can see is him singing ‘Stargazing.’ And not singing it off-key as the rest of us do, but singing it well.

Really well.

In a room full of people, his voice twists and turns straight to my heart. When he blinks, it’s slow, and I grab ahold of Clover’s arm for support.

“It would appear that Happiness is good for him,” Greyson says, standing at my side. Is it shock or wonder in his tone? I’m not sure because I can’t tear my gaze away from the hottest man I’ve ever seen singing a song that we danced to at sunrise.

And I feel every word, every emotion, every plea he pours out deep in my bones. He’s asking me not to hurt him. To allow him into my life and to trust him while my pulse beats erratically, violently throughout my body.

Because I do want to trust him. I want…

“Two hundred dollars,” Bethany shouts while standing on her chair.

“He isn’t even finished singing yet, Bethany. You’re being so rude,” I shout, which makes Braxton’s smile eat up his entire face.

“Two fifty,” someone shouts from the other side of the barn.

“What the heck is happening here?” My hands are on my hips, and I’m tapping an angry foot exactly as my gram used to do to Pops.

Oh my God. Maybe I am an old lady.

Braxton holds the last note longer than necessary, and everyone in the room cheers. Freaking cheers—standing ovation cheers!

“Who knew he could sing?” Savvy laughs next to me.

“He’s good at everything he does.” I peer up at Greyson. “Apparently, he trusts you enough to let you see that. He hasn’t had that opportunity often.”

“Two seventy-five,” someone else shouts, and now I’m getting angry. Cian went for forty-five dollars. Forty-five.

“Three hundred,” Jessa shouts next to her mom, who is trying desperately to get her to put her arms down.

“Jessa,” I scold. “You’re sixteen. You’re not even old enough to bid.”