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

She steeled herself, wiped her hands on her apron and went to the door. There was no sense pretending she wasn’t home. Besides, she’d popped in to her lawyer’s yesterday for a quick chat. She was going to look into the legalities and get back to Brooklyn in a few days. Even if Cole had the dock assessed, any work wouldn’t start for a while.

She opened the door and tried to look polite.

“Hi,” he said. “I come in peace.”

She lifted an eyebrow. She couldn’t escape the notion that there was always something behind his charm. “Oh?”

He held out his hands. One held a paper bag that she recognized from the baker in town. The other was from a pet store in Mahone Bay.

“Wine and cake for you, and something for Marvin, because he’s a very good boy.”

Okay, so charm aside, complimenting Marvin was the same as telling a mother her kid was great. It was the easiest way to get in her good graces. “I suppose you should come in, then.” She stood aside.

Cole entered while Marvin danced in circles around him. She wished her dog didn’t seem to like the guy so much. At first glance, Cole seemed to be dressed normally. Casually. Until she looked at the fine wool of his sweater and the rich leather of his shoes. There was no forgetting how stupid rich he had to be. After all, he’d bought most of the island and hadn’t batted an eye at the idea of giving her a million dollars for her small corner of it.

“My God, it smells heavenly in here.” He handed her the bag and then courteously removed his shoes and left them on the mat. “I heard you were a knitter. But apparently you’re a cook, too.”

She would not be charmed. She would not.

“It’s messy at the moment. I tend to cook in batches and freeze it.”

She put the bag on an empty space of counter and removed the wine and cake. A lovely crisp white, and a small but gorgeous lemon cream cake. She did love lemon.

“Thank you,” she said, putting the wine in the fridge. “It wasn’t necessary.”

“But it was.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Ms. Graves, we got off on the wrong foot, and that’s my fault. What I should have said yesterday was that I would foot the bill for any changes to the dock. I’m the one who wants them, and it wouldn’t be fair for me to ask you to pay half of that.” He took a small step forward. “I know you aren’t happy about me being here. But I promise, I’m not out to do you harm.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. He seemed very genuine and contrite.

“The previous owners and I got along very well,” she admitted. “Before that, my grandparents owned the whole island. But then my grandfather got sick and needed a lot of care. Care he couldn’t get here on the island, of course, and it put a financial strain on them. Ernest bought it, minus this parcel of land, and rented this house for two years before he built the grand house on the bluff. He set up the conditions for the shared dock and made sure we were taken care of. I understand why he sold. But it was a good relationship built on trust.” She met his gaze evenly. “You haven’t built up that trust.”

“Yet,” he said, and didn’t smile. He seemed to be taking everything she said very seriously. “Maybe if I tell you my plans for the property, it’ll put your mind at ease.”

The squash was nearly done, so she motioned toward the table and chairs. “I’ve got to finish this up, but please have a seat. Would you like a coffee?” There was still half a pot left.

“I’d like that a lot. Just black for me.”

She poured him a cup and put it before him, and then went to test the squash and add the remainder of the ingredients. She tried to ignore how he was watching her as she poured the mixture over into her food processor and whizzed it until it was velvety smooth, and then poured it back over into the pot.

“What is that?” he asked. “It smells amazing.”

“Curried squash soup. Do you cook, Mr. Abbott?”

He sighed. “Can we maybe forgo the formalities? Just call me Cole.”

“All right.” She didn’t extend the offer to use her first name, though she suspected he would, eventually, anyway. She didn’t want to be friends with him, but he had brought a peace offering and she appreciated his putting her mind at ease about the dock. Maybe, just maybe, she’d been a little hyper-defensive.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I cook a little. But I’m better at buying stuff that’s already prepped. I, uh, didn’t really have to cook for myself growing up.”

She snorted. “I kind of figured that about you. Let me guess. Private school? Trust fund baby?”

“Something like that.” He shrugged. “But just to clarify, I’ve had to work my way to where I am. I absolutely had advantages because of family money. Hopefully I didn’t waste any of them.”

She turned around to look at him. There was something in the set of his jaw and behind his eyes that spoke of a deeper story. She wondered what it was. She should not dismiss him as an idle rich jerk. Everyone had their own story, didn’t they?

“So buying this island...it isn’t a whim or a toy for you?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not. I bought it for a few reasons. I’ll tell you if you’re interested in hearing about them.”