Page 50 of Where We Bloom (The Blackwells of Montana #3)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

BILLIE

S imon walks into my bookshop, and I scowl at him.

“Did you seriously tattle on me?”

It doesn’t surprise me when he doesn’t smile.

“I like my job, Billie. I need you to help me keep it.” He assumes his position beside the front door, hands clasped in front of him, staring straight ahead.

“He looks like he could be the hero in one of the mafia books we read. All broad-shouldered and the obvious tattoos under that suit,” Emily says from beside me, not bothering to keep her voice down. “You know he’s muscled and can handle a gun. It’s kind of hot.”

Simon doesn’t even blink.

I swear, the man is made of stone.

“He’s not fiction. He’s a real-ass man, Em.” I roll my eyes and turn away from Simon. “Stop ogling my bodyguard. ”

“Hey, not all of us have sexy billionaire boyfriends,” she reminds me with a smirk.

“Can we work now?” I ask dryly as I grab a bottle of my favorite water—which Connor always keeps stocked here—out of the small fridge behind the counter and unscrew the top. “I got an email from Catherine Cowles. She’s going to do a signing for us next month.”

Emily’s jaw drops in surprise, and then she hops up and down. “Holy shitballs! She’s my favorite, Bee. I’m going to make an absolute ass out of myself when I meet her. She’s going to think I’m a moron.”

“No, she won’t.” I laugh and take a sip of water. “She seems really kind. Plus, you’ll pull yourself together before then. I need to order some books, have graphics made for social media, and a whole bunch of other things to get ready.”

“We can do this,” Emily says, giving me a mock salute. “No worries, babe, we’re on the case.”

I smirk as she hurries off to help a customer. Grabbing my laptop, I sit in one of the comfy chairs to place my orders and get some other work done for the day.

Just after I email the amazing woman I use for graphics, the door opens and in walks Juliet.

“Hey!” I jump up and wrap her in a hug.

“Hey, bug,” she says with a smile. “How is every little thing?”

“Pretty damn good.” I laugh. “And you? How’s the new restaurant coming along?”

“Aside from plumbing issues in the building, a freezer on back order, and a whole shipment of plates arriving broken, things are good.”

“Oh no. I hope that doesn’t delay your opening.”

She shakes her head and pushes her pretty hair over her shoulder. “I’m determined to make it work. But I’m also trying to make myself relax in the evenings, and maybe some new reading material will help.”

“You left here with a dozen books not that long ago.”

She laughs and wraps her arm around my shoulders. “Honey, I’ve already read them.”

“Well, I have you covered. What are you in the mood for?”

“Sports romance,” she decides. “And maybe some billionaire romance, too.”

“Lauren Blakely and Helena Hunting both have some new hockey releases out that are fabulous,” I inform her, leading her to the sports romance section. “And billionaires? You can’t go wrong with Sadie Kincaid.”

“This is exactly what I need.” She grins and gets lost in reading the back cover blurbs, tucking the ones she wants in her arms.

“Have you talked to Brooks yet?” I ask, and her face falls. “Jules, you live in the same town. The same tiny town. You’re going to run into him sooner or later.”

“I know.” She sighs. “I’m just not ready for the rejection. I figured I’d get the restaurant up and going first, and then go grovel for forgiveness.”

It’s none of my business.

“Billie, I could use your help,” Emily says behind the counter, catching my attention.

“Go. I’m good here,” Juliet assures me with a grin. “I’m just going to shop for a while.”

The afternoon moves by swiftly, and before I know it, it’s time for me to close the store and head over to Skyla’s dance studio for Birdie’s dance recital.

“Let’s grab a quick dinner,” I say to Simon, who simply nods. “Hungry for anything special?”

“Nope.”

“Are you originally from New York?”

“Nope.”

“Are you at all interested in Emily?”

He pauses. “No.”

I raise an eyebrow as he opens the back door of the SUV for me. “Maybe a little?”

“Where to?”

I sigh and bite my lip. “Let’s just grab a pizza. I’ll call ahead. Do you like pepperoni?”

“Fine.” He nods and closes the door, and I place our order.

“You’re a man of few words, Simon.”

“It’s not my job to chat,” he replies, but his voice isn’t hard or angry. “I’m here to protect you.”

“What, exactly, does Connor think might harm me in Bitterroot Valley, Montana?”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s hired me to watch you, so that’s what I’m doing.”

“Miller said that he’s former military. Are you as well? ”

“No.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, sitting back with an exasperated sigh. I catch Simon’s lips twitching in the mirror. “I saw that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

After we both scarfed down a couple of slices of pizza, Simon drove us over to the dance studio and has been by my side for the entire performance.

You’d think he was my date.

It’s annoying.

“When is Connor coming home?” Dani asks.

“I don’t know. Hopefully soon.”

Birdie struts on stage and gives the performance of a lifetime, making us all cheer for her.

Even Simon claps.

Maybe he’s not a robot after all.

After the recital is over and I’ve hugged my girl, Bridger turns to me.

“Want to go get ice cream with us?” he asks.

“Please?” Birdie adds. “It’s my big night.”

I grin and run my hand down her pretty braid. “Of course, I want to celebrate with you. Let’s do it.”

Filling my evening with my family helped to get my mind off missing the hell out of my billionaire .

But now I’m home, and I miss him so much that it hurts.

This house is massive. It’s a mountain mansion, and I love everything about it. But without Connor here, I feel so … lonely.

I take a long, hot shower and wash my hair, then spend an hour drying it and styling it so it’ll be easy for work tomorrow.

I go through my entire skincare routine, and while my face mask does its job, I walk into the closet and sort through some clothes I’ll take to Martha the next time I go to Big Sky.

Before leaving the closet, I stop by Connor’s suits and carefully smell them so I don’t leave mask residue on them.

“I miss you, billionaire,” I whisper before I pad into the bathroom to wash my face.

At around midnight, with no sign of sleep in sight, I walk down to the library and sigh happily when I turn on the light and the room practically glows.

I’ve spent most of my sleepless hours organizing this room while Connor's been gone. I unpacked all my books and lined them up, alphabetized by author.

Then I decided to reorganize them by genre, which I like better.

I have plenty of space to add more books, which I can’t wait to do.

Tonight, there’s no organizing to be done. I finished it all yesterday. The library is my happy place, and I don’t think Connor could have found a better gift to give me.

He sees me .

And I love him for it.

Maybe I should adopt a cat. They’re relatively self-sufficient and would be company for me when Connor is away on business. I could picture a little black cat curled up in my lap, here in the library, while I read.

It’s definitely something to think about.

After grabbing a favorite title to reread tonight, I relax in one of the plush chairs and settle in to read the night away.

By three in the morning, I’m no closer to sleep, but my brain is too tired to make sense of the words on the page, so I stand and stretch.

Now what am I supposed to do?

It’s a beautiful late summer night out, and remembering that I’ve hardly been able to drive my new car, I decide this is a great night to go for a drive.

I’m dressed in a loose T-shirt and shorts, so I shove my feet in some flip-flops, grab my handbag with the key fob inside, and deactivate the house alarm as I walk out to the six-car garage, open my bay’s door, and fire the Porsche to life.

I love this car. I love the rumble of the engine, the soft leather seats, and I really love how fast this thing can go.

Moments later, I’m cruising down the driveway, through the gate, and onto the highway, headed out of town.

I’m careful not to go too fast because of all the wildlife that could pop out at any moment, but I do put the sunroof back and blare the music. As Taylor Swift sings about being the antihero, I belt it out with her and feel energized.

Getting out of the house, in the fresh night air, is exactly what I needed.

Driving my new car without Simon hovering? Even better.

I love driving around Bitterroot Lake. It takes about an hour because it’s a big lake, but it’s such a beautiful drive, even at night.

I’m only twenty minutes away from the house when a vehicle drives up behind me, their lights flashing, and I hurry to pull over and let them by because they’re clearly having an emergency.

Except they don’t drive by.

They pull up behind me, and just as I’m about to speed away because fuck that shit , I look in the mirror and see … Simon ?

I jump out of my car and push him in the chest.

“You scared me!”

“ I scared you ?” He scowls down at me. “For fuck’s sake, what are you doing? It’s the middle of the goddamn night.”

“I’m taking a drive in my new car. Not that I have to explain anything to you.”

“No, but I have to explain to Connor why the woman he’s paying me to protect is not with me in the middle of the fucking night.”

This is the most emotion I’ve ever seen come from this man.

“I just went for a drive. ”

“And now you’re going home,” he says, schooling his face back into stone.

“No, I’m driving around this lake.”

“Billie.” He sighs, and I can see he’s tired. He’s in jeans and a T-shirt, something I’ve never seen Simon wear before. Emily’s right. He is good-looking. Holy hell, the tattoos on both arms are … wow. He’s also a pain in my ass.

“Wait.” I hold up a hand. “How did you know where I was?”

“There’s a tracking system on your car.”

My jaw drops. “What did you just say?”

“There’s a tracking system on your car.”

“You’re a smart-ass.”

“You asked.”

“Why is my car being tracked?”

Simon sighs again. I’m clearly trying his patience. “In case anything happened to you, we could find you. There’s one on every vehicle, not just yours.”

I shake my head at him, so frustrated I could pull my hair out.

“I’m going home,” I mutter, my nighttime drive ruined.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“Of course, you will be. And if I get away, you’ll be able to track me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says, without an ounce of remorse.

Dick.

I can’t wait to get home so I can call my billionaire and give him a piece of my mind.