Chapter 16: The Renegade Billionaire: Chapter 16

What the heck is he doing now? Ladders on roofs will never be a good sign—especially not when Pops thinks he has Braxton at his beck and call.

I park my car and am emptying the trunk when I hear heavy footsteps on the porch. I know they’re Braxton’s before I turn around.

“Need help?” Two words that cause goosebumps to race down my arms. It’s not the words themselves, it’s the deep baritone he speaks in—it’s the way the timbre of his voice makes my heart race. He feels safe, and that scares the hell out of me.

“Ah, yeah, sure. Thanks. I ran to Walmart for a few new sets of sheets for your family.”

“Madison.” It’s a low rumble, a plea, a warning all rolled into my name. His arm brushes mine as he leans into the trunk, and my stomach flips over. Why does one innocent touch from this man tangle up my insides like a pot of spaghetti?

“You don’t have to go to any trouble for them.” He steps closer, and the heat of his thigh sends tingles down my hip. “They’re very laid-back and are just happy to be away from the West Coast for a bit.”

A fissure of unease has me squaring my shoulders. Business is business, and I really need to get my bodily reactions under control. “But they’re also guests, Braxton. I know this is—well, I don’t even know what this is to you, but this is my livelihood.”

“His too.” Pops chuckles, then plops down on his porch swing.

“Pops.” Braxton’s warning is surprisingly sharp, and I search his expression.

“Come on.” He hip-checks me out of the way. “We’ve got some stuff to talk to you about.”

Pursing my lips, I glare at Pops. What the heck could he have done in just a few hours? I know, I know, dumb question. Pops can get up to all sorts of trouble in minutes, let alone hours.

Braxton closes my trunk with his elbow and marches inside. With no other options, I follow him into the house and down the basement steps to the washing machine.

“How did you know this was down here?”

“Pops and I were down here looking at pipes earlier.”

I stand on the bottom step as he opens the first two sets of sheets, stuffs them into the washing machine, adds soap, and then starts it.

The sound of rushing water hits my ears, and I remember to close my mouth.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m helping, Madison. I realize it’s not something you get a lot of, but you might as well get used to it. I’m going to be here a while.”

“Why?”

“I’m comfortable here, remember?”

The lone swinging light bulb flickers above his head, a metaphor for my energy that is suddenly zapped dry. Sinking to the stairs, I place my elbows on my thighs and stare at him.

He raises a hand to draw small circles on his chest and I smile. It’s nice knowing one of his little tells.

“What’s on your mind, Braxton?”

The muscles in his forearms bunch when he lifts himself to sit on top of the dryer. “You’re not going to like it.”

I instantly drop my head into my hands and practice breathing exercises that never work, but I keep doing them anyway.

“What did he do now?” Of course whatever he’s about to tell me has something to do with my grandfather.

“Can you promise me something?”

“What? You want me to promise not to get mad? Not to have a complete and utter breakdown that he’s putting us deeper into debt without any true understanding of what it will take me to repay?”

“No. Promise me that you’ll keep an open mind.”

“I’d really rather you just spit it out.” Freaking stress makes me so stinking sweaty. Gathering all my hair, I twist it up into a messy bun to cool my neck.

“The inn was in trouble.”

Somehow, that’s the very last thing I expected this man to say.

“He told you about the taxes?”

Braxton’s jaw drops to his chest and his brows nearly reach his hairline. “How…”

I snort out a defeated chuckle. “When Sam disappeared, I had a feeling he was leaving everyone in a bad way. I started pulling all the files I could get my hands on.”

“But Pops has all the documents⁠—”

“In the shed. It’s where he hides everything. Listen, I appreciate you looking out for him, but I’m raising the money to repay the loan he took out from his friend. I’m almost there, that’s why all the improvements have been put on hold. But now that you’ve paid a king’s ransom to stay here, we should be fine.”

“A loan?” The words squeak past his lips. “And how are you saving that much money?”

“I took on a bunch of new clients. I produce audiobooks for indie authors and sometimes do sound engineering for podcasters. I do them at night when no one else is in the studio so I can rent that space out as much as possible. We’ll be on our feet soon enough. His friend, Ace, sadly passed away though, so I’m working my butt off to get the funds before his sleazy family comes looking to be repaid.”

The color drains from Braxton’s face. “His family? You’re working yourself into the ground because you’re scared of his family?”

I nod but feel my face pinch at his tone. “He used to tell us about them. They all sounded horrible, except for his grandson and adopted grandkids. But not all of us have unlimited resources, so I needed to get the repayment sorted before the rich freaking…” I snap my lips shut as soon as the words leave my mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

He looks down at the floor. “You’re stressed, and I get it. But I’m not sure how you’ll take this next bit of information.”

“He’s Ace’s grandson,” Pops shouts down the stairs. “He owns forty percent of the inn. Now get up here so we can talk about it.”

I don’t remember standing or balling my hands into fists. Braxton jumps down from the dryer, but I hold up a hand, palm facing him, and shake my head once. It’s another thirty seconds before I can gather enough strength to walk up the stairs, and all my control to walk past my grandfather without bursting into tears.

He sold part of the inn? Maisie’s Hideaway Inn?

Braxton’s footsteps follow me the entire way, but he whispers something to Pops on his way by, and that’s what sets me off.

I slam both hands into the swinging kitchen door and take up residence behind the island.

“You should have told her.”

“I was protecting her.”

“She’s an adult, Pops. She…”

“She doesn’t need two well-meaning idiots talking about her either.” As soon as I say it, their words muffle into hushed whispers—they could be a barrel of snakes behind that door for all the shushing sounds. I drop my forehead to the cool countertop and count backward from one hundred.

The kitchen door swings open, but I don’t lift my head.

“No. Nope,” I say with my nose squished against the granite. “I need a few minutes to myself. Do not even think about coming in here right now.”

The door swings shut again without a word, so I know it was Braxton. Pops wouldn’t have been able to stay quiet.

What does Pops mean, Braxton owns forty percent of the Hideaway? He sold it? How could he do that to me?

I close my eyes when my chest beats to that uncomfortable rhythm I used to associate with anxiety, but now think it might be Braxton.

Okay, think, Madison. He owns forty percent, that means we still own sixty. Oh, God. What will he do with his share?

Is that why he’s here? Will he try to make me sell?

Sickness swirls in my stomach and acid burns the back of my throat when tears threaten. Is this why he was getting so close to me?

No. I mentally chastise myself. Braxton isn’t like that. Maybe he doesn’t even want the inn. Maybe he’ll let me repay the loan and he’ll give me back my property. That’s it! It makes the most sense anyway. He doesn’t want to run an inn in Georgia, right?

“Madison?”

“Braxton,” I hiss without lifting my head. “Care to explain why my grandfather sold my legacy to you, a stranger we’ve only known for a hot minute?”

“He likes me?”

“The boy will be good for you, Madi.”

The groan that escapes my throat is equal parts angry and sad with a little confusion laced in.

“And he didn’t sell it to me, he sold it to Ace, who I guess willed it to me. Um.”

I lift my face off the counter. A bead of sweat has formed on his forehead, and his shifty gaze is scanning the exits. I stand upright as my defenses prickle.

“Also, um, Mitchell is my middle name. I’m sorry I deceived you. I’m Braxton Mitchell Reyes. I was named after Ace. But I only said it was Mitchell for privacy reasons. It wasn’t to hurt anyone, I promise.”

Guilt fills every inch of his expression, but I can’t garner an ounce of sympathy when everything I’ve been working for was just pulled out from under my feet.

Instead, I ignore his comments and plead my case to Pops.

“And what happens when ‘the boy’ heads back to his real life? What happens to Grams’ inn then, Pops?”

“Nothing. If I go home⁠—”

“If?” It comes out slightly shrill as I spin on him so quickly, hair falls from my messy bun. “What do you mean, if?”

“When I go home, nothing will change for you. I’m here for six months, to be the good Ace wanted to see in the world, but I’m only a silent partner in the inn, and I’ll gift it all back to you at the end of the contract.”

“The contract?” My voice is pitched so high, I’ll be surprised if all the dogs in town don’t show up soon.

Braxton shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I haven’t seen it yet, but according to Pops, it’ll be three or four years.”

My eyeballs strain against my skull, and I scoff. Then scoff again while attempting to locate my words.

“I honestly don’t know what the heck is going on here, Braxton. So you’re not here because you want to be. You have to be here?” I clench my jaw, then inhale deeply through my nose so I can speak at a more acceptable decibel.

“Yes, no. I mean, yes, Ace told me to come, but I truly do love it here. I wouldn’t lie about that, Madison.”

But lying about your name is okay? Deep breath, Madi. Deep breath and think.

“Braxton, people don’t just float into town, drop small cities’ worth of cash, and then walk away. I don’t get this, I don’t get you, and I really don’t understand why you, Pops, of all people, would agree to this. Not after everything with Sam and…”

“Lord of the Turds,” Pops says with as much glee as he can muster. “It’s easy, Mads. I trust him because Ace trusted him. It’s not the same as how I trusted Turdknocker and Sam. No, I trusted them because I was trying to be supportive like Grams always was. I trust the boy because Ace had a good soul. He proved that the first time I met him, and I’ll believe in the boy because of the love Ace had for him.”

“That’s so super clear, Pops, considering you never told me how you even knew Ace. He just showed up here one day and you two acted as though you were long-lost brothers, so thank you for that flowery speech about trust.” My eye roll is epic even by snarky standards. “I love this place with my whole heart.” I hate how my sadness bleeds into my words.

“Listen, Madison, please.” Why does Braxton have to use the tone that reminds me of silky smooth chocolate? “I’m a businessman, but I’ve never felt connected to anything…not until I found this place. I like that your friends check in on you and run interference for you. I appreciate that Cian tried to rip my head off for being on the roof earlier⁠—”

Pops whistles an ear-piercing tune, and Braxton shuts his mouth.

Tapping my forehead with my pointer finger, I take a moment to collect my thoughts that are running in a million different directions.

“Wait a minute.” When I spin to face Pops, he immediately looks anywhere and everywhere but at me. “Why was he on the roof? Why were you on the roof?”

“Assessing damage.” The old man I love so much nods once. He will forever be an insolent toddler when backed into a corner.

“Do you have any idea what to look for?” I ask.

“Ah,” Braxton scratches his chest and I have my answer. “No, but Cian does, and he’s going to help.”

“Mads?” Clover calls from the front of the house.

“In here,” Pops says.

“This isn’t over just because Clover’s here.”

“Agreed.” Braxton nods his head. “Let’s table it for now, go to the fundraiser tonight, get Grey and Sage settled in the morning, then we’ll draw up some standard contracts and go from there.”

“Contracts for what?” Clover asks, entering the kitchen.

“Pops sold part of the inn to Braxton, well, Braxton’s grandfather, and now Braxton is going to bring a lawyer into it.”

“Whoa, that’s not what I said.” Braxton keeps his tone gentle, which irritates me even more. “The contracts are to protect you, Madison, not me. You don’t have to believe me, but you’ll see.”

“It’s kind of shitty that you’ve been here this long and didn’t say anything about owning part of the inn.” Though I hear the bite in Clover’s tone, no one else does. To them, she probably sounds as gentle as ever.

“I, ah.” Braxton turns to Pops. “I didn’t know until about half an hour ago.”

And I believe him. While he’s handling this news better than I am, he still seems surprised.

Wait… “Oh my God, Pops. That means you’ve been a little devil running Braxton all over town when you must have known who he was this entire time.”

He merely waves her away with a flick of his wrist. “Boy, we got some work to do before you drive the girls to the fundraiser. Madi, don’t forget those brownies.” Then he grabs Braxton’s shirtsleeve and drags him toward the foyer.

Braxton’s gaze finds mine, and he mouths the words I’m sorry on his way out the door.

“Ah, what the heck just happened here?” Clover stares at me, and then the slowly swinging door.

I try to swallow but it hurts. Getting a throat full of burrs down would be easier. “Clov.” My chin wobbles. “I think I just lost part of the inn.”

“But to Braxton.” She says it so casually I wonder if she actually heard what I said. “Hot, sometimes grumpy, Santa Claus-playing Braxton.”

Okay, hot, yes. Grumpy, maybe sometimes. But Santa?

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. It’s no secret he’s the one going around doing good deeds all over Georgia. He signed the check for the STEM program over in Hopevale, and everyone in a fifty-mile radius knew about it within minutes,” she says dreamily.

“He did?”

Clover nods so happily that the ponytail on top of her head flops around, resembling a cowboy on top of a bucking bronco.

“But he asked to keep it a secret,” she whispers. She blushes, and I know for sure that she’s finding all kinds of ways to turn this into her next thriller novel.

“And they did that so well.” Eye rolling has become a new habit of mine.

“Why do you think he’s doing it all anonymously?” She follows me into the pantry.

I quickly run through everything Ace ever told me about his grandson while I pull down dishes and the ingredients for Pops’ brownies.

“His grandfather was Ace.” I pretend I’m searching for something and don’t turn around, but her gasp speaks volumes.

“No. Way.”

I spin at the sound of Savvy’s voice.

“I just saw Braxton on my way in. Do I need to hurt someone?”

“No.” It’s all I can manage before Clover trips over herself retelling Savvy how and why Braxton now owns part of my inn.

“Shit.” Savvy chews on her hangnail, then flops onto a stool at the island. “Elle’s on her way over. She had to ditch Cian first. Braxton is really Ace’s grandson?”

“Yeah.” Ace spent time with her while he was here too. He helped her create her entire business plan. “At least we know he’s a good guy.”

“But why so secretive?” Clover asks.

Savvy and I make eye contact before I say, “Because he doesn’t trust very easily.”

“His family hasn’t been good to him,” Savvy says.

I lean against the sink for support. “And now we’re partners.”

“Pops is a menace,” Savvy says with a laugh.

My grandfather is the definition of the word menace.

And now I have to figure out how to get my inn back.