Page 4 of Where We Bloom (The Blackwells of Montana #3)

Chapter Two

CONNOR

I swear to Christ, I’m seeing things because it’s impossible that the bane of my existence, the one woman in this world who can make me hard just by breathing in her scent, is sitting in my restaurant.

I’m so fucking gone over her, I’m conjuring her everywhere I go now.

Except I’d bet the deed of this hotel that it’s her. No one’s that beautiful except for my angel. No one sets me on fire like she does.

“Mr. Gallagher, we’d like to show you the projections…” The manager of my Big Sky property drones on about business, but I can’t take my eyes off the woman sitting by the window. Her dark hair is pulled up into a messy knot on her head, showing the long lines of her neck and shoulders.

Her long dress is flowy around her perfect curves, and to my surprise, she’s in sandals.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen her in anything other than heels, and I’ve seen Billie Blackwell often over the past nine months or so. This is as casual as it gets for her, and I want to leave these arseholes and join her.

What is she doing here?

The server approaches her, and as she smiles up at him, I want to growl. Once she places her order, she checks her phone, sips her tea, and watches the people outside.

I don’t hear a thing that happens in this meeting.

But I know every move that my angel makes.

“How do you feel about that, Mr. Gallagher?”

I turn back to whatever this idiot is pointing at on a piece of paper and nod. “Fine.”

“Excellent, now?—”

He continues, but I turn back to watch my girl.

It’s fucking intoxicating to watch her eat.

She’s not shy at all about her love of food, and I wish I was sitting with her so I could share her meal the way we did that first night at the Italian place.

I want to hear the way she hums with approval.

I want to see her face when she closes her eyes and savors the flavors on her tongue.

I sit back and watch her make her way through each course of her meal. With each plate set in front of her, she does a little dance in her seat.

I’ve never met anyone who exuded so much joy over something as simple as a meal.

I’m not surprised when the server delivers dessert to the table, and Billie claps with happiness, her whole face lighting up. It’s a punch to the gut.

Christ, she’s beautiful .

I flag the server down.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’d like her check added to mine,” I reply, gesturing toward Billie.

“You got it.” He nods and walks away, and I notice that the rest of the table has gone quiet, but I don’t care.

I’m not even sure I need to be a part of this meeting.

“Sir, we can wrap this up if you’d like,” the manager says, and I nod.

“Thank you. I’ll be heading back to Bitterroot Valley today.”

“But we thought?—”

“It wasn’t a question,” I reply and shake both of their hands, dismissing them, and then I sit alone and watch Billie as she finishes her dessert and checks her phone again, smiling at something she sees. Is it a message from another man?

The mere thought makes my hand fist and my jaw clench, which is completely unreasonable.

It’s none of my business if she’s seeing someone. She made it clear a couple of weeks ago, when I dragged her into the supply closet at her shop, that she wants nothing to do with me.

“I won’t do this with you,” she says, her voice shaking.

“No more. No more kisses at dance recitals and family dinners and at the fucking coronation of a king. No more messing with my head, Connor. I’m sure it makes you happy to know that I enjoyed fucking you.

I can’t help myself from responding to you when you touch me, but I am done letting you use me. You don’t get to do that anymore.”

I’ve tried. I’ve kept my distance over the past few weeks and made sure that if she was going to be somewhere, I wasn’t. Yet the thought of staying away from her forever is pure fucking torture. Each day is getting harder and harder. All I want is this woman.

The server approaches her table, and she asks for the check, but he shakes his head and must tell her it’s been taken care of because she frowns.

I stand and start her way.

When she sees me coming, her gorgeous eyes widen, and all of the blood drains from her face as if she’s seen a ghost. Or her worst nightmare.

I fucking hate that.

“Thank you, Travis,” I say. The young man nods, and then he’s gone, and I take the seat across from Billie.

“What are you doing here?” she asks with a scowl.

“I own this place.”

She blinks at me, then seems to wilt. “ You own this? The hotel, too?”

I nod, fiddling with the silverware on the table.

“Well, shit. I love this place.”

“You do?” I lift an eyebrow in surprise and feel oddly … proud.

“It’s a beautiful hotel. I’ve never stayed here, but I always eat here whenever I come to town.”

“And how often is that?”

She nibbles her lip. “Once a month.”

“You make a four-hour drive once a month? ”

“It’s closer to eight hours because I go back the same day. I’m actually about to head out now. I just wanted to eat first.”

“I’ll walk you to your car, then.”

She doesn’t argue as I stand and button my suit jacket, and with my hand pressed to the small of her back, I lead her out the front door to the footpath.

“I’m that way.” She points to the left, and without thinking about it, I link my hand with hers, walking beside her, making sure she’s on the inside of the footpath.

Her fingers curl around mine, settling something in me, the way she always does when I touch her.

“So what brings you all this way once a month?” I ask.

“We don’t share personal things, remember?”

I scowl down at her, but she doesn’t look up at me, and I don’t push her. When we reach her car, I pull my phone out and send a text to Miller.

We’re leaving for BV now. Pick me up outside Thrifty Threads.

Miller: On my way.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around,” Billie says and circles her SUV, unlocks it, and lowers inside. But when she pushes the ignition, nothing happens. I see her narrow her eyes, and she tries again, and after the third time, she simply rests her forehead against the steering wheel .

It’s a good thing I’m here.

I circle the bonnet and open her door. “You can ride back with me.”

“I have this, Connor. I’ll make some calls.”

“No, you’ll let me handle it, and you’ll ride back with me. I was heading back now anyway. My last meeting just wrapped up.”

Okay, that’s a lie. I was supposed to be here for two more days, but plans have changed.

“Seriously, thanks for the offer, but I can call Brooks. He’ll call someone, and they’ll tow me back. I can catch a ride with them.”

“If you think for one moment that I’ll let you ride for four hours from here with a strange tow-truck driver, you’ve lost your bloody mind, angel.”

Miller pulls up right behind her.

“Now, get in my fucking car.”

Billie narrows her eyes at me, then sighs. “Fine, I’ll ride back with you. But I’m not leaving my clothes behind.”

She stomps to the back of her SUV, opens the hatch, and points at two plastic totes full of clothing.

“I have to take these, too.”

“They’ll fit in the back, miss,” Miller says. “Please, allow me.”

“Oh, hi, Miller,” Billie says as she steps back to let Miller get the totes. He takes them in one trip, stacking them on top of each other, and I close the door behind him.

“Lock it up,” I say to Billie, gesturing to her car .

“Obviously, it’s not currently worth stealing,” she grumbles, but she presses a button on her fob, locking the vehicle, and I escort her to the back of my SUV.

She climbs into the back seat, and I walk around to join her on the other side.

“I’ll have our things sent to us,” I inform Miller as I pass him, and he nods in return. Once we’re all seated, Miller starts the car, and we’re headed toward Bitterroot Valley.

Billie seems intent on staring out the passenger window.

“So tell me about those clothes.”

She’s silent for so long, I don’t think she’ll respond. When she sighs and turns my way, I want to drag my knuckles down her cheek.

I want to pull her into my lap and feast on her delicious, plump lips.

I want to feel her against me so badly.

But I don’t touch her because she wouldn’t welcome that.

“I bought them at the thrift store,” she says. There’s no shame in her tone, no hesitation.

But I’m seeing red.

“Why are you wearing secondhand clothes?”

“Okay, you can press pause on the judging.” She points her finger at me. “I’ll have you know that filthy rich people live in or stay in Big Sky.”

“That’s not news to me.”

“Of course, it isn’t.” She huffs a breath and rolls her pretty eyes, and I feel my lips twitch. I fucking love her sassy side. “They also discard their hardly worn clothes and donate them to that shop, and I love it. Here, look.”

Before I can stop her, she unfastens her seat belt and flips around on the seat, diving backward to the totes behind us. Her arse is in the air, and my heart stumbles as fear spears right through it.

“Get back in that seat belt, Billie.” I wrap my arm around her waist and glare at Miller in the mirror, making it clear that he had better not wreck this car and hurt her.

The fucker grins at me.

“Billie, I’m not kidding. Sit your arse down.”

“I know it’s here somewh—aha! Here it is.” She flips back around with several garments in her hands and refastens her belt. “Look. This is a Dior skirt, in my size, with the tag still on it. It was more than two thousand dollars brand-new. Look at the tag. Look. ”

I glance down but don’t reply. This is how she affords to look the way she does. Always put together, always classy, like she just stepped off a Paris runway.

She sets the skirt on her lap and reaches for the other piece of clothing.