The Firefly Cafe (Billionaire Brothers, #1)(22)

He finished with, “So what do I do? Should I leave, like she asked? Or should I stay?”

Jessica gave a thoughtful look, but before she could answer, a rough voice came from the doorway into the cottage. “As the immortal philosopher collective, The Clash, noted: if you stay, there will be trouble. But if you go, it will be doubled.”

Popping off the couch like a jack-in-the-box, Jessica waved her arms at Logan as if he were a bird who’d flown into the house. “Go back to bed! Do I have to tie you down to get you to stay put?”

The scorching heat that entered his brother’s eyes at that made Dylan wonder if Logan had finally found something to distract him from his lab work. But instead of diving through the perfect opening she’d left him, Logan leaned one wiry forearm on the wall of the house and addressed Dylan.

“Sorry if I messed up whatever scam you were running on the hot diner waitress.”

Dylan was on his feet, fists clenched, without making a conscious choice to stand. “Don’t talk about her like that. And it wasn’t a scam, okay?”

Satisfaction stretched Logan’s wide mouth into a wry smile. “Okay. But I’m not the one you need to convince.”

Slumping, Dylan kicked at the leg of the glider to make the thing swing back and forth. It squeaked. He should fix that—except now he might not get the chance to fix anything else around here. “I told her already. I mean, I apologized.”

“Did you explain?” Jessica asked. “Or did you give her the patented Harrington puppy eyes and expect her to fall all over herself to forgive you?”

Dylan ground his teeth. “I don’t expect forgiveness,” he gritted out.

Jessica, who was an expert at reading between the lines of the taciturn Harrington men, blew out a rude raspberry. “Psh, and you won’t get it, either, if you don’t even try to tell her why you lied to her.”

“But I…” Dylan broke off, his head swimming. “I don’t know what to say to her.”

“Yes, you do.” Jessica cocked her head, considering. “She opened herself up to you, stripped herself bare, but you were hiding behind a fake identity the whole time. Now it’s your turn. Lay it all out for her, and hope she likes what she sees.”

“That’s the problem,” Dylan croaked, his throat achingly tight. “I kind of hate Dylan Harrington, Bad Boy Billionaire. How can I expect someone like Penny to fall for him?”

“You’re more than the Bad Boy Billionaire,” Logan said suddenly. Dylan glanced over to find his brother watching him with the kind of laser intensity he usually reserved for his gadgets, eyes burning in his rough-jawed, angular face. “You know that, don’t you?”

Bitterness soured the back of Dylan’s tongue. “Right, I’m a Harrington. Spare me the lecture on what that entails, I’ve already heard it from Miles.”

“No.” Logan made an impatient slashing gesture with one long-fingered hand. “I meant that you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, and a harder worker. And of the three of us, you were always the one who charmed people, who made friends the easiest.”

“Because I have money.”

“Because you’re a good person,” Logan snapped. “You’re fun to be around, you care about people, you aren’t afraid to show your emotions—cripes, you’re like the hero of one of those racy books Jessica thinks I don’t know she reads. But most of all … you’re my brother.”

Dylan’s palms felt sweaty as he took a step toward Logan. “I haven’t felt like any of those things in a long time.”

Pain tightened the lines at the corners of Logan’s eyes, but his smile was fierce, a challenge. “Well then. I guess it’s about time you reclaimed your birthright, don’t you?”

Hope and gratitude expanded Dylan’s chest like helium blowing up a balloon. He glanced over at Jessica, who arched a brow and said, “What are you waiting for? Go strip naked for Penny Little. Show her what you got. I have it on good authority that Harrington men are pretty damn near irresistible, when they put their minds to it.”





Chapter 12



The ding of the bell over the diner’s door shattered Penny’s concentration. She nearly dropped her tray.

Shooting her an alarmed look through the pass, Alonzo Chappelle wiped his hands on his white chef’s jacket. “You have been all over the place today. Do you need a break?”

“No,” Penny said sharply, wincing when her boss stared at her. “I’m sorry. I’ll get it together, I promise. I need the tips.”

I need the distraction.

Lonz nodded and went back to slinging hash, too backed up with orders to keep worrying about his wait staff.

Balancing the tray carefully, Penny smiled at the man who’d ordered the steak and eggs. Grady Wilkes was the big, rough, silent type—a bit of a loner, but a talented carpenter. And there was a kindness in those eyes, the deep green of the maritime forest where he’d built his cabin, that made Penny wish suddenly and fiercely that she’d had the sense to fall for the local handyman instead of an imposter from Manhattan.

A tremor in the air made her pause, as if the very molecules she breathed in carried messages her heart could read. With a sense of inevitability, she turned to see Dylan Harrington standing at her shoulder.