Billionaire Mountain Man

“He is definitely neither of those things. I guarantee it.” I was kind of smug as I said it. James was seriously hot, and he was really intelligent.

“Of course, he wouldn’t be. You would never hook up with a guy like that. I don’t know why you’re being so skittish about the details, but I trust you enough to tell me about it when you’re ready.”

If I was being honest, I didn’t know why either. “Thanks, Heather. You’re the best.” I hugged her goodbye, and we loaded our books into our cars.

“I know. Have you cooked him dinner yet?”

I was mildly confused by her question. I wasn’t a bad cook, by any means, but I was no chef. “No, why?”

Heather’s face lit up. “You know that old saying, that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach? Men love a woman who cooks for them.”

I bit back a slightly sarcastic, possibly dirty retort, but then I realized that her advice actually made at least a little bit of sense.

“That’s not a bad idea, Heather. Thanks, maybe I’ll do that.”

“Let me know how it goes. Ciao, bella.” Heather was not Italian, not even a quarter or a fifth. Not at all. But every once in a while, she’d break out the farewell. It was one of the little quirks that I loved about her.

“Thanks, I will.” A plan was already forming in my mind as I fastened my seat belt.

Chapter Seventeen

James

“I was beginning to think that you’d gotten stuck in one of those big books of yours,” I said by way of greeting when Gabrielle returned my call the next morning.

“It was a close call, but I managed to escape from it.” There was a nervous edge to her voice that I wasn’t sure I’d heard before.

I hadn’t seen her since I’d told her about Harper, but we’d been speaking on the phone and texting, so nothing had changed. Not that I knew of, anyway.

“Just so you know, I would’ve found the book and beat the shit out it until it let you go.” It was a joke, maybe not a good one, but even the shitty ones usually got at least giggle out of her. But this one got no response at all. Not even a groan. Something was going on. “What’s up?”

“I, uh,” she hesitated. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my place for dinner tonight?”

“You cooking?” Like that mattered. Wild horses weren’t going to stop me from going to her place and fucking her properly, and at my leisure for once.

“Yeah, I was thinking that I would. Don’t get your hopes up too much. We might end up eating Chinese takeout.”

Or I could just eat you. I bit my tongue; I was pretty sure that my cheesy line quota for the week had been filled. “Good thing that I love Chinese, then. What time?”

“Is 6 good for you? Does that interfere with Harper’s routine? It doesn’t really matter so much to me. I just need to know when to get dinner started. I’ll be done at the library by 5.”

I hesitated at how casually she had just mentioned Harper. Is she actually worried about my kid?

Gabrielle was starting to become too good to be true. There had to be a catch somewhere, right? Maybe that’s what the nervousness was about.

“No, 6 is f

ine. Harper’s at a friend’s birthday party. She’ll be wiped out by the time I pick her up, and Mrs. W. can put her to bed. Thanks for checking.”

Thanks for checking? Fuck me.

Gabrielle ignored my moment of insanity. She didn’t call me out on it, anyway. “Sure thing. I’ll see you at 6, then. Let me know if you need to make it later after you pick Harper up. I’ll text you my address.”

“Yeah, I will. I’ll see you then. Hey, Gabbi.” I caught her just before she hung up.

“Yeah?”

“I’m looking forward to seeing your place.” Especially your bedroom, I added to myself.