Chapter 21: The Renegade Billionaire: Chapter 21

“Why are we doing this?” Greyson asks from the passenger side of my truck.

Somehow, he got shotgun, while Pops is in the middle and Sage is squished into the back seat. I saw Pops out messing with Grey’s rental car earlier—I know that’s why it wouldn’t start. I’ll have to speak to Pops about that.

“You’ve got to see the town.” Pops sounds annoyed, and I wonder if it’s because Grey outmaneuvered him to the passenger seat today. “First stop is the diner ’cause I’m starving.”

Grey’s stomach growls so loudly we all hear it, so he doesn’t bother arguing even though I can see in his shoulders that he was about to.

These two figured out immediately how to push each other’s buttons, so it’s anyone’s guess how it’ll play out.

“It’s a busy place,” Sage says, his head resting on the seat in front of him between Pops and Grey.

“It’s Betty’s famous meatloaf today, that’s why we needed to get here early.” Pops huffs. “If I missed out on my meatloaf because you were dicking around with your wiffee meeting, heads are gonna roll, you hear me? Heads will roll.”

“What the fuck is wiffee? And I wasn’t dicking around with anything. I had a $14 million deal on the table, Mercutio. What the hell is it you think I do anyway?”

“Not making meatloaf, I know that.”

I finally find a parking spot, and Grey jumps out of the truck before I’ve even put it in park. He stands outside, rolling his shoulders. I shouldn’t laugh at my best friend for being so out of his element, but I do.

“Come on,” I say, following him out. “How about you two put a pin in your little war and let’s go eat?”

“He started it.” Pops pouts.

Grey stares at me with a wide, bewildered gaze. “Is he for real? What kind of⁠—”

“Careful there, Uncle Grey. We don’t want the town thinking you’re some kind of rich asshole or anything.”

Grey snaps his mouth closed, buttons his suit jacket, because I can’t get him to wear anything we bought at Walmart, walks into Betty’s Diner, and stops with one foot inside when every head in the place turns to stare at him.

“Not so big in your britches now, are ya, kid?” Pops shimmies under Grey’s arm and enters to a chorus of hello and how ya been, Pops?

“Breathe, Grey. He’s just messing with you.” I chuckle and walk past him too.

“If my head explodes from being in Happiness fucking Georgia for too long, I will haunt you by singing every NSYNC song ever recorded,” Grey hisses to the back of my head.

“Promise?” I say, waggling my brows to get a rise out of him.

He reaches into his pocket and retrieves his lucky coin. It rolls through his fingers and back again.

“Betty said we can have the booth in the back,” Pops says smugly, and in all fairness, it is the best seat in the house. “Even your big bucks couldn’t get you that.”

He saunters past us, stopping to chat at each table he passes. By the time he makes it to the table, we’re already seated.

“That’s my seat.” Pops scowls at Grey, who makes a point of looking behind him and between his legs.

“I don’t see your name on it, old man.” I don’t think Grey even acted like a child when he was a child, so this is a new side of him, and it’s a lot of fun to see.

“This is war, Greyson. You’re going down.”

Grey picks up all his cutlery and like a spoiled child, licks it all, places it back on the table, then gets out and allows Pops to slide into the booth.

Sage and I stare at him with matching expressions of shock.

“What the hell was that?” Sage asks before I can.

“It was the most un-Greyson Reyes thing I’ve ever seen you do,” I say.

“If you boys start a food fight in here, you’ll be cleaning my floors with your tongues,” Betty says as she drops some menus on the table.

That snaps Grey out of whatever childish hole Pops managed to drag him into, while Pops stares at the side of his head, hooting with laughter.

“How’s it feel, kid?”

Grey slowly turns toward Pops. “How’s what feel?”

“Getting that stick outta your ass and having a little fun.”

Sage and I wait for Grey’s reaction. I honestly have no idea what he’ll do.

“You’re quite possibly the most immature man I’ve ever met.” Grey stares at Pops with a look of…astonishment?

“Why, thank you. You’re forgiven for being an unbearable asshole.”

Grey’s right eyebrow twitches as he stares at me, silently begging me to tell him this is all one giant joke, but all I can do is chuckle and shrug.

“Welcome to Happiness, Greyson.”

Pops picks up every item in the condiment tray and shakes it to make sure he has enough for whatever he’s going to order, but when he gets to the ketchup, all hell breaks loose. He shakes it, listens to it, then shakes it again.

“We’re going to need more of this,” he says. “See?” He opens the top so Greyson can see whatever Pops thinks is inside and ketchup sprays all over Greyson’s white button-down.

“It looks like someone stabbed you.” Sage laughs so hard he snorts, and Grey’s face turns as red as the ketchup on his shirt.

“Well now, that was an accident,” Pops says with humor lacing his tone. He attempts to wipe it off, but Grey simply sighs and removes Pops’ hand.

“I’ve got it.”

Pops shrugs and goes back to checking the packets of sugar. When he’s satisfied, he sits with his hands folded on the table, literally twiddling his thumbs.

“Hey, Pops.” A man in his mid-forties steps up to our table. “Thanks for volunteering at the animal shelter last month with Savvy. We really appreciated the extra hands for the adoption event.”

He and Pops share stories for a few moments, but I didn’t miss the way Grey stiffened at the mention of Savvy’s name.

When the guy leaves, I lean in to the table. “What’s going on with you and Savvy?” I whisper.

“Him and Sav?” Pops says at full volume. “No way. She’d eat him alive.”

“Excuse me?” Grey crosses his arms over his chest, only partially covering the ketchup splatter.

“Well, I saw you two bickering at the fundraiser the night you arrived. She doesn’t back down, that one, but she’s got a real soft center, and she’ll tear you apart before you ever get close to it.”

“Savvy has a soft center?” I ask. “She always seems so⁠—”

“Argumentative?” Grey interrupts.

“Now you watch it, kid. Savvy’s a good egg who’s already been scrambled up by a bunch of sack suckers. The last thing she needs is another ball sack jerking her around.”

“Why must you be so…phallic?” Grey stares at Pops as if he’s an alien here to abduct him.

“Aw, Pops.”

I lift my gaze to find Savvy walking up the aisle. Grey heard her too, and his entire body turns to stone. He doesn’t generally shut down completely, so the fact that Savvy has gotten to him this way is extremely interesting.

“Savvy. We were just talking about you.” The mischievous glimmer returns to Pops’ expression. “Join us.” He slides all the way to the wall, managing to tug an unsuspecting Grey with him.

Sage and I both watch with silent laughter making our lips twitch as the mask she was wearing slips momentarily, before she feigns indifference and perches on the very edge of the seat, as far away from Grey as she can get.

“So Sage, how are you settling in?”

“Great. I’m having the best time of my life.” If he flashes her any more teeth, his face will split in two.

“That’s really good to hear.” She sounds so genuine, but Grey still glares at her as though she’s about to shoot poison from her tongue. “Small towns can take a little getting used to, but I really do hope you like it here. It was…life-changing for me when I landed here.”

Some of the ice in Grey’s eyes melts at her tone.

“So, what do you have planned for the rest of the day?” she asks.

“Pops wants to take Uncle Grey to Bitter Creek, then he’s going to show us the library before we have to get back so the uncles can do some work.”

“That sounds…really boring for you.” She laughs.

Does Grey realize he’s angled his body closer to hers?

“You have no idea.” Sage smirks conspiratorially. His words instantly have Grey back on edge.

“Do you not like it here? We can head home now if you want.”

“Uncle Grey.” Sage groans. “That’s not what I said, and we’re not running home just because you’re uncomfortable.”

Savvy turns a questioning expression his way. That’s when they both realize how close their faces are, and their necks snap back at the same time.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Grey grouses. “I just have a lot of work to do.”

“And on that note, I’ve got to head over to the Chug to record my next episode.” Savvy stands, and Grey’s gaze follows much too slowly. “Have a good day,” she says to everyone, but never makes eye contact with my best friend.

Grey’s phone pings, and Pops groans loudly.

“Shit,” Grey curses. His brow furrows as he speed-reads across the screen. Then he turns it toward me, and my tension headache returns.

The headline reads “Spoiled Montgomery Princess Throws Hissy Fit in Montana Kindergarten Classroom.” Below it is a picture of Anastasia looking more pissed off than I’ve ever seen her. But the interesting thing about the photo is how she appears to be attempting to shield the child she’s with from the photographers.

I’ve never known my sister to protect anyone but herself.

“Ah, Pops. We’re going to have to get lunch to go today. I’m sorry,” I say.

For all the trouble Pops causes, he’s always the first to have the backs of those he cares about. He proves it when he starts shoving on Grey’s arm.

“Get moving, kid. Sage and I can grab lunch for you two. Moose will drive us home.”

Grey looks between Sage and Pops. I know every thought running through his head, but he eventually slides out of the booth. At least on some level, he trusts Pops enough to leave our nephew with him.

“Lunch, and straight back to the Hideaway.”

Pops gives me the shooing motion he usually saves for Madison.

“I mean it, Pops. No stops today. Finish up here and come straight home. Nowhere else, no pit stops, no quick conversations, okay?”

Sage chuckles when Pops salutes me, but I know damn well that man had his fingers crossed behind his back.

“Sage,” I say with a parental tone I rarely use with him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be the adult here.”

Pops crosses his arms, but at least I can trust one of them.

It’s almost midnight before I hear Madison come home. At some point, she’d snuck in to put a casserole in the oven while we were on the third floor cleaning out furniture, but she was gone again before I saw her.

“Hey,” I say, when she reaches the top of the stairs.

“Holy crap, Braxton.” She clutches her hands to her heart and shakes her head. “You scared the bejeezus out of me. What are you doing lurking in the hallway?”

The bathroom door opens, and Sage jumps back a step. “Jesus, Uncle Brax. What the hell, you scared the shit out of me.”

“See?” Madison says, lightly pounding on her chest.

“Why are you both standing in the hallway?” Sage asks.

“I just got home and found Braxton hiding in the shadows.” Her face is partially covered in darkness, but not enough that I don’t see the corners of her lips curl up.

“I heard her come home, so I was just checking on her. What are you doing up?”

Sage shrugs and squeezes past me in the hallway. “I just finished a movie. I was brushing my teeth, if you must know. Stalking is still frowned upon.”

“Go to bed,” I grumble.

Madison and I are silent until he’s shut himself away in his room.

“You waiting up for me?” she finally asks while leaning casually against the wall. Is she teasing me?

Closing the distance between us, I answer truthfully. “Yes. Grey and I work long hours, but you’re making us look like slackers.”

She tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear, breaking eye contact with me. “I had a lot to do, and Clover asked me to brainstorm a villain with her this afternoon. It kind of threw off my day.”

I lean against the same wall she’s resting her head on. “You couldn’t have done it another time?”

“I’d told Blissy I couldn’t go to lunch with her, so I was already stuck at the Chug anyway,” she says.

Grey’s light flickers to life under his door. When the hell did everyone turn into night owls? Taking Madison by the hand, I lead her back down the stairs and into the kitchen.

She’s either too tired to question me or she likes being as close to me as I do her.

“There,” I say when I usher her to the island stool. “Have you eaten?”

She frowns, glances at the clock, then yawns as I turn on the dim light over the sink.

“I’ll take that as a no. You tell me about your day, and I’ll make you a grilled cheese.”

“No, Braxton. You don’t have to do that. I’m fine, really.”

Opening the refrigerator door, I ignore her and pull out the sharp white cheddar slices I bought earlier. “I know I don’t have to, sunshine. I want to.” Placing the cheese on the island, I lean over it so I’m in her personal space. “It’s okay to let someone else be the caretaker every once in a while.”

Reaching out, I pull her head forward, press a gentle kiss to her forehead, and my entire being syncs with her cadence.

I step back before she can say anything and reach for the bread and butter, then bend down to grab a frying pan.

“So tell me, why couldn’t Clover wait until tomorrow?”

“I—I didn’t think about it,” she says. “Plus, I like helping. Brainstorming with her feeds a creative need I get sometimes.”

“I get that, I do. But by helping, how far did it push the tasks you had planned to do back?”

“Not that long,” she mutters.

“Ballpark?” I ask while generously buttering two pieces of bread.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

I lift my brows in my most skeptical expression.

“Fine, I don’t know. Maybe three hours.”

“Three hours? So, you could have been home by nine instead of midnight?”

“I didn’t know I had a curfew.” She crosses her arms over her chest. It’s so much like Pops, I can almost picture her as that unruly kid her parents tried to squash. “Plus, it wasn’t just that. After I helped Clover, Coach B. had some last-minute additions I had to work into the schedule, and then Savvy popped in to record a couple of podcasts, so I had coffee with her.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What?” she snaps.

Placing the buttered side of bread in the pan, I top it with cheese and the second slice of bread. It sizzles while I grab a spatula.

“Do you ever say no?”

“Of course I do.” She sounds as though she’s trying to convince me, or maybe herself.

Flipping her sandwich, I reach for a plate. As soon as both sides are golden brown, I cut it in half diagonally, set it in front of her, and grab a grapefruit seltzer water from the fridge. After popping the top, I slide that over to her too, but she’s watching me with an expression I can’t read.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” I ask.

“How do you just know?”

“Know what?” Sitting next to her, I nudge her plate a little closer.

“What I like. How I take my coffee, what kind of seltzer I prefer, even my favorite kind of cheese.”

I glance around the kitchen, waiting for a shoe to drop.

“I’m living in your home, Madison. Why wouldn’t I know those things?”

“I’ve known Cian since I was a teenager, and he doesn’t know those things.”

I inch closer to her, angling my legs so one knee rests behind her. I’m as close as I can get with us both sitting on stools.

“I pay attention.” My voice is low, just for her ears. “I enjoy getting to know all of your likes and dislikes. Is that so bad?”

She hasn’t reached for her sandwich, so I pick up a slice and hold it to her mouth.

“Are you⁠—”

I slip the crusty corner of grilled cheese past her lips, and she moans while biting down. Her stomach growls then, and she removes the sandwich from my hands to take another bite.

“You didn’t eat.” I see it in her eyes.

“It was kind of a crappy day,” she says through a mouthful. Her impeccable manners are being pushed aside as she surrenders to her hunger.

Reaching into the fruit bowl at the end of the island, I snag a banana in case the sandwich isn’t enough.

“How come?”

She makes a noncommittal noise while picking up the second half of her grilled cheese.

“Because you didn’t tell anyone no or ask them to make an appointment? Your time is valuable, sunshine. You can’t always put yourself last. It’s not healthy.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Then what?”

“Ugh.” She groans. “I ran into Harry today while I was pulling items from the storage shed.”

“You…ran into Harry in the shed?” My hand clenches under the island. If he’s harassing her, I will do whatever it takes to get him to back off. “Are you okay?”

“It was fine,” she says, polishing off the last piece of bread. “Sober Harry is just…sad.” Her shoulders slump forward as another yawn escapes.

I don’t know what to say, so I hold up the banana in offering.

She reaches for it, but I pull it out of her grasp at the last moment and begin to peel it for her.

“Why is he sad?” I ask while focusing extra hard on the banana.

Her body deflates beside me. “When he’s sober is when he feels the shame and guilt of what he’s done. It’s like seeing tiny flickers of who he once was but knowing it will be snuffed out again with his next drink. And today I might have been a little too mean to him when I told him we’ll never have a chance again. I know it sent him right back to the bar, but I don’t know what else to say to him. He doesn’t have to be who he’s become, but I don’t think he’s strong enough to handle the weight of his conscience either.”

“Being honest isn’t mean, sunshine. It’s protecting yourself. It’s putting up boundaries. You’re not responsible for his happiness, his sobriety, or his decisions.”

“I know. I do. And most of the time I hate him for everything he’s done. But there are times, like today, when all I feel is sadness for what he’s done to me and what he continues to do to himself.”

Holding the open banana away from her body, I spin her and pull her into me. We sit with my body wrapped around hers, her back to my front.

When she leans her head back to look at me, I offer her the fruit. She hesitates for only a second before taking a bite.

I was not thinking about how sexy feeding her a fucking banana would be, so focusing on her words becomes nearly impossible.

She swallows, then looks up at me with pure sunshine in her expression.

“Are you okay with how everything went with him today?” My tone is rougher than I’d like, but jealousy coated in fear for her safety is rearing its ugly head and I can’t seem to rein it in.

“I am.” She’s still leaning her head on my shoulder. “It finally felt like goodbye.”

Relief flickers like hot embers across my skin. Pressing my lips to her cheek, I whisper, “Take a bite.” I pull back just enough so I can aim the banana for her mouth, and fuck me, my cock twitches in my pants.

She stills in front of me, not even chewing, then pushes back on her stool an inch. I have to stifle a groan when her ass nestles into my thickening length.

I’m breathing through my nose, attempting to control my reactions as she finishes the banana, but the second she swallows the last bite, I pounce, spinning her again and claiming her lips as though they belong to me.

Our teeth clash, and our tongues swirl with untamed desire. I nip at her bottom lip, and she moans so loudly pre-cum leaks into my boxers.

Noise from above is the only thing that holds me back. As much as I want this woman, she’s exhausted, and I won’t risk someone walking in on us, so after a few more moments, I pull away, pressing my forehead to hers.

“You’re dangerous, Madison Ryan. So fucking dangerous.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because you might be the only person on the planet who can make me lose control.”

Her eyes light up as though it’s a compliment, and my chuckle is dark as it escapes my chest. “Come on, you’re tired. Let’s get you to bed before Pops waltzes in here looking for a party.”

The mention of her grandfather has her eyes popping wide. Her chest is still heaving, and it takes all my willpower not to tear her shirt wide open.

“Bedtime, sunshine,” I say, standing from my stool and offering her a hand.

She rises silently, and when she places her palm in mine, entwining our fingers on the way up the stairs, I finally admit to myself that everything is about to change.