Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(37)

Her voice was soft and pleasant, just like he remembered. “It’s me, Bront?.”

He heard her suck in a breath. “Don’t call me. Please.”

“I wanted—”

“You’re a liar.” She hung up.

He stared down at the phone. He wasn’t going to call and beg her to see him. That wasn’t his style. But he wanted to talk to her. To see if they could connect like they had on the island. He needed to find a way that she’d be unable to avoid seeing him.

Logan picked through the information the private investigator had sent him and paused on the diner’s financial info. And he smiled.

***

“Hello?” Bront? picked up her phone, yawning and glancing at the clock next to the bed. It was seven thirty in the morning on her day off. This call had better be an emergency.

“Hey, Bron, it’s me.” Sharon’s voice. “You’re not going to believe this.”

She rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up. “What is it?”

“The diner was sold.”

“Sold?” Bront? sat upright, her heart pounding. “Do we still have our jobs?”

“As far as I know. But the new management has called a meeting this morning at nine, and they want everyone to attend.”

“Gotcha. I’ll be there.”

Bront? dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and drove down to the diner. The diner sold? She knew that being a waitress wasn’t a permanent sort of job, but she didn’t have the savings to make a career transition at the moment. Plus, if your résumé showed nothing but waiting tables, people wouldn’t hire you for much else. Turned out that a philosophy degree didn’t really get you places in Kansas City. She hadn’t planned on being a waitress for so long, but now that she was in danger of losing her job, her stomach was tied in knots. She needed a paycheck.

When she got to the diner, the sign was flipped to CLOSED, unusual given that it was breakfast rush hour, but maybe the new boss didn’t care about that. She slipped inside, noticing a cluster of employees seated at booths at the far end of the diner.

“Hi,” she said, casting a worried look at Sharon, Angie, and Marj, fellow waitresses. The cooks sat at another table, and the old manager was nowhere to be seen. “Did I miss anything?”

“Not yet,” Angie said, pushing a piece of gum into her mouth and chewing nervously. “You think the new boss is going to shut us down?”

“Surely not,” Bront? said.

“Then why call us all in here?” Marj asked, worried.

Bront? didn’t know. “Maybe he just wanted to meet us all personally?”

Sharon smacked her lips. “I caught a good look at him. I’d like to meet him up close and personal. Rowr. He’s sexy.”

“He’s your new boss,” Marj snapped. “Keep your hormones under wraps.”

“You saw him?” Bront? asked. “Does he seem nice?”

“I don’t care if he’s nice,” Sharon said, grinning. She smoothed a hand down her ruffled apron. “I told you he was cute, didn’t I? I think he likes me. He keeps looking over here.”

Bront? turned around, glancing back at the kitchen, only to have Sharon tug on her bushy ponytail.

“Don’t look!” Sharon hissed. “You’re being too obvious.”

She pulled her hair free from Sharon’s grasp. “Is he in the kitchen?”

“Yep. Oh, here he comes now.”

A pair of men in suits emerged from the kitchen. One was an older man wearing a suit and carrying a briefcase. The younger one was tall and chiseled, his hair effortlessly perfect. At the sight of him, all the blood drained from Bront?’s face.

Logan.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied the two men. She leaned over to Sharon. “Which one did you say was the new owner?”

Sharon snorted. “It’s not the old geezer. The hot one. He bought the place. Seems he’s an investor of some kind. Likes to buy businesses and turn them over for a profit.”

Just like he had with the hotel. But this silly little diner seemed too tiny to be on the radar of someone as important as Logan Hawkings. There could only be one reason he was here personally. Bront?’s jaw clenched. He’d bought her place of work because she’d hung up on him.

And now she was trapped.

That jerk.

Chapter Seven

She didn’t look pleased to see him.

Logan had expected that. He’d guessed when Bront? had hung up on him that she was holding a grudge of some kind. That was his reason for buying this hole in the wall diner. He wanted to find out what the problem was so he could fix it.

And then he wanted her back in his arms and in his bed, laughing as he kissed her skin and quoting Plato when he undressed her.

But she was seated with the other waitresses, arms crossed over her chest, and she looked furious. Even furious, though, she was lovely. Her smooth brown hair was twisted into a messy knot at her neck, and she wore a slick of lip gloss that made him wonder what she tasted like with it on. She wore a plain blue T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, but even in the casual clothing, she appealed to him more than the last model he’d dated.

“Mr. Hawkings is the new owner of Josie’s Diner,” the consultant he’d hired began. “Over the next few weeks, we’re going to be looking carefully at every aspect of the business to determine where the most profit can be made. This means an inspection of purchasing, cooking, hours clocked in, and anything else you can think of. Mr. Hawkings is simply here to show you his commitment to the business.”