Loving the Secret Billionaire (Love at Last #1)(11)

“And you’re not…into that?” Her voice was hesitant, but I got the feeling this was big—her asking me such an intimate question.

“Even when I was younger, girls liked me for my looks. I used to play down the road with the neighbors. At one point, things changed.”

“And you didn’t like it?”

“It was fine, sometimes. But I didn’t always like the girls who liked me.”

“So the overgrown, dilapidated thing is a cover, right? You like going unnoticed. Nobody comes up here if it’s a mess. Nobody bugs you.”

I didn’t reply. Why deny what was so obviously true?

After a couple sips, she asked, “Are you registered to vote?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“You’ll win.” I smiled.

“You think so?”

“I do.”

“It feels like cheating, though.”

My head swiveled to face her. It put us so close our breaths mingled.

“What does?”

“You getting all those students to help.”

“Having a team of volunteers is cheating? You think your opponent doesn’t have plenty of help?”

“But I didn’t recruit them! I didn’t design those flyers or think of those tag lines or any of the things you did for my—”

My hand on her arm cut her off—and shocked the hell out of me. I could barely breathe.

I leaned in farther. “Why do you think you have to do all the things? It’s a campaign. You have a manager, right?”

I imagined she was nodding and went on.

“So, I’m your social media guy. That’s it. I do a little communications, PR. Now you’ve got a bigger team. Things are more even.”

“Well, thank you.” She leaned closer and touched her beer to mine. “Zach Hubler.”

My name on her lips did things to me. We sat there for a minute, something other than my words suspended between us as my body and my brain, focused on her warm skin and her warm breath and the smell of her so near—flowers and beer and some unidentifiable woman thing I wanted to suck down to the bottom of my soul.

“All I’ve done…” I swallowed and let my fingers slide, just the tiniest bit, trying to remember what I was saying. “Is volunteer my time—”

“Those signs and flyers cost money, too!”

“—and made a small donation to a cause that I deem worthwhile. That’s all.” I wouldn’t tell her about the bigger donation, made through one of my shell companies. I didn’t know why, but I had a feeling she wouldn’t like that. Or she might stop this thing going on if I told her about the money. She’d cite a conflict of interest or some other bullshit and I didn’t want this thing—whatever it was—to stop.

Which was what made me give her arm a final squeeze and let go, shift back, get some space, give my brainwaves room to function again.

In the silence that followed, she took a long swig of her drink. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I forced a smile onto my face and held out my beer. “Here’s to winning.”

“Here’s to winning.”

Our bottles clinked and I turned to enjoy the last rays of the day’s sun. “Sun’s setting.”

“You can tell it’s darker?”

“It’s always bright for me. All the time. But I feel it getting lower. Also, the birds. They change at this time of day.”

I cocked my head, closed my eyes, relaxed my shoulders, and listened. It took about ten seconds for the world to change. Kids squealed a ways down the road, someone mowed their lawn, engines droned farther away and doors slammed. Closer, a breeze rustled the trees, birds chirped. If you could even call it chirping. There were so many sounds, like separate, individual voices, as different as songs on the radio, and through it all, she sat beside me. Just her presence changed my corner of the world.

“You listening?” I felt a little breathless at how quiet she’d been. Her attention on me was so perfectly focused. So different from anyone else I’d been with.

“Yes.”

“Your eyes closed?”

“Yeah.”

“I can’t explain this, ’cause I just met you and, honestly, this has never happened before, but…” I swallowed, opened my mouth and shocked myself. “I want to kiss you.”





4





Veronica



* * *



All the blood in my body rushed to my skin. If he could see me, he’d know that I was bright red.

And then because I wanted him to know, I told him. “I’m blushing.”

“Is it a good blush or a bad blush?” he asked and I wanted to…do something, but I didn’t know what. Squeeze him? Jump him? Press my face to his chest and laugh?

“It’s a good blush,” I finally managed to whisper, just as a strong gust of wind came through. It sounded like rain in the trees and felt like a solid touch. Goosebumps popped up across my body, my nipples hardened, and I couldn’t last another second pass without tasting him. Ignoring every one of my parents’ warnings about strangers and all the things my grandmother taught me about not being too forward, I said, “Do it. Kiss me.”