The Last Eligible Billionaire(70)

There’s a sadness in her voice that makes me want to slay dragons. Begonia Fairchild was not born to be sad. She was born to make instant best friends at summer sleepaway camp, to leap head-first into any adventure that comes her way, and to lie here with me, naked beneath the summer moon, eating a charcuterie picnic while I wonder what on earth I could ever offer this magical creature to entice her to stay as long as possible.

Somehow in the past two weeks, she’s gone from the world’s largest inconvenience to my reminder that the world is a place of joy.

“Your father declared bankruptcy.” The words leave my mouth, and I cringe.

But Begonia laughs, as if she understands where I was going. “Yes. It wasn’t pleasant, but he survived. I mean, not long, but it wasn’t… It wasn’t bankruptcy that killed him. That was an accident.”

“You weren’t terrified at all when I threatened to sue you.”

Her cheeky grin flashes in the moonlight. “I would’ve been sad if you’d followed through and I had to raise funds by putting my great-grandma Eileen’s old dildo collection on eBay to afford my own legal fees, but yes, I know I would’ve survived.”

“I’m quite the asshole.”

“Hayes. You found a total stranger making a disaster of your house.”

I grunt and reach for a grape to feed her. “That turned out far better than I expected.”

“And look at us now,” she agrees.

Look at us now, indeed. “Do you still enjoy camping?”

“I used to, but then—well, then I grew up and did what I thought grown-ups should do, which is dumb, isn’t it? Why can’t grown-ups have fun too?”

“Are you not having fun tonight, Begonia?”

She wriggles against me, making my cock go harder than it has any right to be given how thoroughly I climaxed not fifteen minutes ago.

And because I’ve been spending so much time around Begonia, I have an irrational desire to high-five myself for it.

She’s not rich. Newly divorced. With her entire plans for her time off thrown into disarray through no fault of her own.

Yet she’s the most joyful woman I’ve ever met, as if she believes the world is made of rainbows and that each experience, from waking up in the morning to having a picnic on the beach, is to be savored.

She’s the sun, and I’ve become a single blade of grass basking in her presence.

She tips the cheese into my mouth, and then she’s talking again, her voice washing over me. “I’m having the best time. Do you know what? Summer camp should be a thing for grown-ups too. We should get to play and have fun and let someone else make us cafeteria food after we spend the morning canoeing and swimming and horseback riding, and then get to have grown-up time afterwards.”

“You’ve just described Rutherford family reunions, but without the horrors of cafeteria food, and I honestly don’t want to know which of my relatives are engaging in grown-up time.”

“Did you go to summer camp as a kid? The traditional kind where you sleep away from your parents for a week or more at a time?”

I offer her a bite of brie brushed with honey. “Every summer from six to sixteen, but it was crew—rowing—camp, or lacrosse camp, or math camp, or college application prep camp.”

“Did you shoot bows and arrows?”

“No.”

“Paddleboard on the lake?”

“No.”

“Eat s’mores around the campfire?”

“We had crème br?lée and chocolate lava cakes catered by Michelin-level chefs while we sat around getting lectures about how to apply for college.”

She gasps. “Had you never had a s’more before our campfire picnic in Maine?”

I crack a grin. Can’t help it. “How many Razzle Dazzle films have you seen, bluebell?”

“At least four hundred thirty-seven. I was watching them before Jonas started getting starring roles. I miss the days when Hank Houseman was your main lead. He was too old for me to be attracted to, but I couldn’t help myself. Just shew.”

I roll and pin her beneath me. “How many of those four hundred thirty-seven Razzle Dazzle films had campfire scenes?”

She purses her lips, and it’s nearly impossible to not kiss them.

But I want the reward.

I want to watch the light dawn.

It is never disappointing.

And when her eyes go round and her lips part, and then she throws her head back and laughs—that is everything.

“Are you telling me lies?” she asks. “College application prep camp? You are! You’re making that up, and you’ve had s’mores, and you did go to traditional summer sleepaway camp.”

“I believe it’s called teasing when done in the midst of flirting.”

“You are the most adorable flirter ever.”

“Adorable?”

She nods solemnly. “So adorable.”

I grunt.

Her eyes twinkle and that smile flashes over her face, and she’s done it again.

One more point to Begonia for bringing a ray of sunshine into the darkness.

Many more, and I will not recover when she leaves.

“Maybe I should show you adorable.” I tilt my lips to her neck, and her squeal turns into a soft sigh.