The Last Eligible Billionaire(23)

“There is a possibility some nosy busybody with a camera will take our picture and perpetuate this crazy story where the world’s last single billionaire is madly in love with a divorced art teacher from Virginia. That would probably be a serious hit to your reputation.” Thank you, market tabloids, for filling in more details to his story while I waited to pay for my groceries.

The world’s last unmarried, male, heterosexual billionaire.

With Jonas getting married to his actress girlfriend, his single cousin, Thomas, dying in a horrific car accident, and Mathias Randolf, the software billionaire, eloping in the Caymans—with friends and family present, including Hayes—all within the last two weeks, that means I truly am fake dating the world’s last single man with a ten-figure bank account.

I’m the only thing standing between Hayes and the dozen women I overheard wondering if he was single and wanted to meet them or their niece or granddaughter.

And Amelia Shawcross.

And who knows how many others?

“My patience is in short supply, Ms. Fairchild.”

“Then you definitely have to walk me back to your place. Just breathe that air. Isn’t it amazing?” I suck in a huge breath, demonstrating how to breathe for him, not because he needs it, but because I never would’ve said this to Chad, and I need to practice saying the things I want to say when they don’t cause anyone harm.

Chad would’ve said, Get in the cart, Begonia, and I would’ve said, Yes, Chad while thinking He’s such a stick in the mud, but at least this way we don’t argue over it.

Peace over happiness.

What good was the peace when it robbed me of the little joys in life, like a few extra minutes of breathing in the fresh salty air while my dog chases sea birds and tries to catch the waves in his mouth?

Hayes’s nostrils quiver, like he’s trying to test the air without letting on that he’s following instructions, and just like last night, when he laid his head in my lap and let me help him relax, a tight band around my chest eases.

My pulse is still running high, and there are goosebumps racing across my skin, but the nerves aren’t about if I’m doing this fake girlfriend thing right, or if I’ve agreed to a deal with someone who actually wants to hurt me.

I think he’s doing the best he can with whatever demons are haunting him, and for one small moment, I’m giving him peace.

I like giving people peace.

But I’m done doing it at the expense of my own happiness.

“Hayes, your mother wants to know if she should send Charlotte into town for coffee, or if we’re bringing some back,” Amelia calls.

I lean around Hayes and smile at her. “Everything’s set in the pot in the kitchen. It’s my special coffee-of-the-month-club coffee. From Ecuador this month. And it’s delicious. All she has to do is hit the power button.”

She doesn’t smile back.

I lift my eyes to Hayes. “People in your social circles do know how to hit the power button on a coffee maker, right?”

“If not, there’s always Charlotte.”

I blink. “Did you—did you just make a joke?”

“No.”

His delivery is so straight-faced, I crack up. “Well, you should’ve. Jokes lower blood pressure too.”

“So does getting home and getting to work. Get in the cart.”

I stroke my fingers into his hair, pretending I don’t notice when his entire body goes stiff against me, and definitely pretending I don’t notice a new pressure on my belly right below where his belt sits. Is he easily turned on, or has it just been that long for him too? “Walk me home. It’ll take an hour, and it’ll clear your head before you disappear to do all of your work and leave me to entertain your mother and your ex-wife.”

A strangled noise rumbles from his throat. “She is not—”

“Grade school wives who are super successful all on their own don’t often come back when you’re still single at your age, and when they do, they definitely don’t get on a plane with your mother at the drop of a hat to go check on you at a secret hidey spot just because they had nothing better to do,” I whisper. “She’s here because she wants you.”

“Congratulations on your powers of observation.”

“Walk with me. It’s what a boyfriend would do.”

He doesn’t sigh out loud, but his expression looks like my mother’s when she wants to, and she’s had so many reasons to sigh silently at me in the past few months. He doesn’t beat you, cheat on you, or degrade you, Begonia. I don’t understand why you’d throw away a man like that when there are so few good ones left.

“Amelia.” Hayes releases his hold on my hip and turns, one hand still gripping the bike. “We’ll be walking home. Please take the groceries.”

Her lips purse. “Are you sure that’s safe?”

“I have the mayor on speed-dial if anything happens.”

I can’t see Amelia’s eyes, but I’m positive they’re twitching.

As they should be.

You’d think a woman with glowing magenta hair couldn’t be incognito in a small town, but apparently no one recognized me as the tourist staying at the big island estate today, since I had brown hair the last time they saw me, and I got to eavesdrop on all the shoppers talking about everything from Hayes’s affair with the mayor here two years ago to how long Giovanna might be planning on staying, given the amount of luggage she brought with her to, yes, who would also like to date him.