The Billionaire's Island Bride (South Shore Billionaires 3)

The morning dawned foggy, but by ten it had burned off and the mellow September sun had warmed the air. Brooklyn carried a large handbag over her shoulder, which contained fabric shopping bags, her wallet, her phone, and a leash for Marvin, who always joined her on her trips to town. In her hands were five small shipping boxes containing orders ready to be shipped to customers of her online store. She turned the corner toward the dock and stopped short. There was a second boat anchored there, and Cole stood on the dock while another man moved around, taking pictures with his phone.

What the heck were they doing? It wasn’t as if Cole didn’t have a reason to be there. He did. Their access to the dock was shared.

The sight of him, though, was unexpected. And she couldn’t deny that she rather enjoyed seeing him in faded jeans and a dark blue windbreaker. He looked...normal. Not like some rich tycoon, which he most certainly must be.

He caught sight of her and smiled, then waved. “Ms. Graves. Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she replied and wished she’d put Marvin on his leash, because at the friendly sound of Cole’s voice, the dog trotted off for more pats and head rubs.

Traitor.

“Marvin, come,” she called. But Marvin was too busy having his ears rubbed to pay much attention. Brooklyn sighed and went toward the two men, both to get Marvin and to satisfy her curiosity about what was going on.

“I’d say you’re spoiling him, but I’m not sure it’s possible to spoil a dog with pats,” she said, trying to be friendly. Things had been tense during their earlier conversation. Establishing a little peace didn’t mean she’d changed her mind.

“He’s hard to resist. What a friendly guy.” Cole’s tone left a hint of insinuation, perhaps that her dog was more amiable than she was. Which was true.

“Is there a problem or something?” She stared pointedly at the other man, who was now at the end of the dock, writing something on a clipboard.

“Oh, Mike. Hey, Mike, come meet Brooklyn Graves. We share docking privileges.”

Mike came over and held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Brooklyn.”

Cole turned to her. “Mike’s going to make some repairs and mods to the dock. It doesn’t quite suit my needs.”

Her heart stuttered. Sure, the dock was old but it was sturdy and sound. She adjusted her packages and briefly shook Mike’s hand. “What sort of needs?”

Cole answered. “Your boat’s small, but I need to be able to accommodate bigger vessels. I’ve hired Mike to expand it and also make any repairs necessary.”

She wanted to be angry, and she would be later, but right now all she felt was shock and amazement at his audacity. “Um, you do remember that we share the dock, right?”

He bestowed another one of those charming smiles on her. “Well, of course. I’m sure Mike will have no trouble splitting the invoice between us.”

Another layer of shock rippled through her. Share the cost? How was she supposed to pay for that? A hole opened up in her middle, the place where worry and panic seemed to live. The hole was soon filled with indignation.

“You can’t do that without consulting me first.”

At her sharp tone, Marvin moved away from Cole and went to sit at her heel. Mike discreetly left the conversation and continued on with his assessment.

“Oh. Well, I could just foot the bill, if...”

Her mouth tightened as she finally let the anger in. “If I sell to you, right? That’s what this is all about? I won’t sell so you’re going to bankrupt me with foolish repairs?” She mentally calculated her equity between the house, business and her savings account, and lifted her chin. “Do I need to consult my lawyer on this, Mr. Abbott?”

She was reasonably sure that he couldn’t just do repairs without getting her to sign off on them. But he’d make sure she spent legal fees to guarantee it, wouldn’t he? Fire burned in her veins. Why did successful, rich people always have to get their own way and swing their power around like a mace?

“Now, Ms. Graves...”

She stepped back. “Don’t you dare Ms. Graves me, especially in that patronizing tone. At this rate, Mister Abbott...” she paused and let the emphasis on the word ring in the air. “...I would not sell to you for a million dollars. Or two million. My great-grandparents were the first people to live on this island. My great-grandfather was a fisherman, like hi

s father before him. My grandparents lived here and brought up five children. I spent every summer as a kid here and I know each square foot of it better in my sleep than you ever will. Maybe our family doesn’t own the entire island anymore, but my corner of it is still mine. And I am not for sale.”

Her hands were shaking, so she clutched the boxes tighter as she stared at him.

“Noted,” he said quietly.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I am going to get on my boat and pilot it to the mainland. Marvin, come.”

This time Marvin obeyed immediately, falling in at her heel without need of a leash or a second urging.