Page 24 of The Thing About My Secret Billionaire

I inhale a long breath while the curve of Frankie’s lips, the swell of her breasts, and the roundness of her ass drift across my mind. “That’s got nothing to do with anything.”

“Ah-ha,” Brooke cries in victory. “I knew there had to be an actual reason you’re sleeping in a barn. You’ve goneall tingly for the woman you’re trying to trick into selling the place to you.”

“I have not goneall tingly.” No way am I mentioning the sensation that ripples through my chest every time she tucks her hair behind her ear, or how I ache to do it for her, or how I somehow came to life when she laughed at the voluminous pants in the Tractor Trunk. “I’m not sure any woman’s ever made me go all tingly. And between the business and the soccer club, I sure as hell don’t have time for any tingly bullshit. Particularly not with the person standing in the way of me giving Skinner the metaphorical beatdown I’ve been wanting to give him for half my fucking life.”

“That’s good,” Brooke says. “Because once she figures out you’re the mystery billionaire property magnate trying to buy her land, there isn’t a chance in hell she’d be interested in you anyway.”

“I don’t give a damn if she’s interested in me.” There’s a sudden heavy weight in my belly. Man, it felt good when Frankie told the donkey I was nice. “I just need her to sell me the land so I can rub Skinner’s face in it once and for all.”

“And then you’re going to finally let go of the Skinner thing, right?” Brooke’s tone is full of suspicion.

“Absolutely.”

“Sure, yeah.” She couldn’t sound more skeptical.

“Anyway, the point is, it’s super important that my picture comes off the website before she looks to see what the hell Maverick Developments is and finds the face of her new volunteer plastered all over it.”

“Okay.” Brooke yawns. “I’ll see if I can wake up one of the web guys.”

“Great, thanks.”

“Enjoy the cot. And the dust. And the animal shit. And the animals themselves,” she says with a titter.

“Photos. Off the website.”

“On it,” she says. “Oh, and I forgot to tell you, I’ve had an idea about next year’s charitable contribution.”

Jesus, there’s no time to waste getting into this. I leave all the warm and fuzzy stuff that comes with the business benefits of tax write-offs and good PR, to Brooke. And she needs to be off this phone and dealing with my photo issue right now.

“Great, you’re the best at those ideas. Do whatever you like and talk to finance about the cash.”

“I was hoping you might want to be a bit moreinvolved.” Her tone is halfway between disappointment and disapproval.

“You know I have no time for anything more than signing the paperwork.”

“And even that’s a struggle sometimes.” She snorts. “I just thought maybe we could send soccer gear to some summer camps, now that the Commoners aren’t such an embarrassment that no one would want to wear their shirts. And since that club seems to be the only fun you have in your life, I thought maybe you might want to be a bit more hands on.”

“No time. You have free rein to make it as fun as you like. Finance will let you know the spending limits.”

“Oh, so heartfelt.” She sighs. “I pity those poor donkeys having to rely on you.”

“Good night, Brooke.”

I hang up, kick off my new boots and lie back on the cot on top of the fresh bedding. I thought the linens might smell musty because the farmhouse looks musty. But they don’t. They smell like something that might have one ofthose absurd names like Spring Meadow or Fresh Breeze or Rolling in the Grass on a Warm Day.

It’s a bit firm, though. Got to admit, a hotel bed does sound good about now. And it would definitely be cleaner. I did the best I could, but this place needs a firehose to get rid of the years of dust and dirt. And I’m not totally comfortable with the idea of having only a thin sheet between me and the old cot, even though I tried like hell to scrub it and eradicate all the ancient cobwebs. Maybe I should have bought pajamas. Or a hazmat suit.

But it’ll be worth it in the long run if it gives the impression I’m down with the farm life and makes Frankie trust me more.

My phone buzzes.

BROOKE

Photos eradicated. Don’t call me again tonight. But do let me know how you do with the donkeys tomorrow.

Hilarious.

At least there’s no danger of Frankie finding out who I really am now.