The Billionaire Next Door (Billionaire Bad Boys #2)(8)

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said. “Get me an address, will you?” Movement outside the door showed Rachel Foster and Adonis moving toward the glass entry door. “I’m, uh, I’ll be back.”

Without explanation he darted off in the direction of the coffee shop, but not before he heard Fi’s smart-aleck comment of “Totally spying.”

Yeah, yeah. But for good reason. He watched Rachel walk by, that same thread of longing stringing through his entire torso.

He wanted to help the dog. That’s it.

At least that’s what he’d been telling himself.





Chapter 3



Did you need ketchup?” Rachel asked the man as she put a cheeseburger and waffle fries in front of him.

“Naw, sweetheart. Just another Bud.” He winked and her smile turned saccharine. The youngish guy was in jeans and a button-down, had blond hair and eyes that didn’t open all the way, and had been hitting on her all evening. And he was laying it on thick.

She walked by Bree, who was cashing out another bar patron.

“Bud bottle to seat six for me,” she mumbled.

“Sure thing.” Bree gave a quick nod.

Neither of them questioned when the other one asked for a favor. Usually the patron took the hint if they double-teamed him.

So to speak.

The rest of the evening flew, and both Bree and Rachel considered themselves lucky they’d escaped without swatting too many guys away. Almost everyone was on their best behavior. No crazy rush (beyond the usual), so Andromeda hit a lull at midnight. Late for a first cut, but Bree could definitely handle the crowd if she left.

“What a night,” she said to Bree as she counted and separated the tips.

“I know! This weekend has been nuts. Don’t people know it’s February? They should stay home where it’s warm and binge Netflix.”

Rachel spun the bills in her hand so they were facing the same way and put the stack on the counter. She kept her back to the bar while she did, even though she wasn’t worried about being robbed. There was muscle at the door in the form of Lex, a college student earning tips while he went to CSU. He was nice, though. Had a girlfriend who lived in Iowa, and from what Rachel had seen, he was completely loyal to her.

Maybe there were a few good guys left on the planet.

“Hey, I didn’t tell you,” Rachel said as Breanna poured and delivered a draft beer to seat 12. “This guy who lives upstairs from Oliver stopped by at the butt crack of dawn this morning.” Ones stacked in her hand, she smiled at her friend. “I thought he was the dog walker and gave him a leash and poop bag.”

Bree laughed, a rich sound matching her mahogany hair. “Tell me you didn’t call it a ‘poop bag.’”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.” Rachel scrunched her face, realizing how ridiculous her reaction was to the guy.

Yes, sure, he was attractive in a completely unique way. And yes, she had looked like a pajama-clad hobo and offered him a poop bag, but really, who cared? She wasn’t looking, and he clearly wasn’t interested.

“He lives upstairs from Oliver, and Oliver’s apartment is ritzy,” Rachel continued explaining. Oliver’s neighbor had been on her mind all day. “This guy didn’t look like a guy who lived in a ritzy penthouse.”

“Well, what did he look like?”

Rachel decided to leave out the attractive qualities lest Bree take it as an invitation to imaginarily set her up with Mr. Tall, Tan, and Sexy.

“He was uh…” Built like a brick shithouse, as hard as a brick shithouse. “He was a big guy, probably a few years older than we are.” There. That sounded generic. “And he wasn’t friendly. I stumbled into him because Adonis is the size of a horse, and I had a hold of the leash. You should have seen the guy’s face when I body-slammed him. He looked severely angry.”

And kissable.

“So you went rubbing against Oliver’s unfriendly upstairs neighbor?”

“Basically.”

“Oh, no. Embarrassing.” Bree’s face melted into a mask of sympathy. But for Rachel, the moment hadn’t been that bad. Aside from worrying about her morning breath. Which, if the guy was as bland as Rachel had made him sound, wouldn’t have been embarrassing at all. Okay-looking guys were easy to relax around.

Back in Ohio, Rachel’s 140-year-old dentist had retired and a youngish doctor had replaced him. A guy so attractive, she could barely think when she went in for a checkup. Dr. Moore. Purr.

“I take it by your frown you’re not over it?” Bree asked. “Try to relax. The guy probably thought you were cute and was envious of Oliver’s superior taste in women.”

Rachel laughed dismissively, split the tips, and put her cash into a pocket. Then she paused, Bree’s words wending around her brain until she practically heard them click into place.

“Bree.”

“Yeah?” Bree answered, distractedly folding her three hundred dollars in tips and shoving it into her front pocket.

“Do you think the neighbor thought I was with Oliver? Like with him?” Because even though Oliver was a super-sweet guy, he was still older and…just no. That would be wrong.

Bree shrugged it off and called, “Thanks again!” as a bar customer climbed from his seat. Then to Rachel, she said, “Possibly. It’s not uncommon for an older, rich dude to have a hot girlfriend.”