The Billionaire (The Dalton Brothers 2)

“Yes.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Tell me about it.”

Her chest rose and fell several times before she started. “Monica—my best friend you met in Vegas—has a brother who’s in the military, and he’s been stationed overseas for the past two years. The calls aren’t as frequent as her family would like. He can never FaceTime because his location is confidential. I happened to be at her parents’ house when he returned for a visit.” Emotion was moving into her eyes. “He told no one he was coming; he just walked through the door while we were all in the dining room, eating cake for Monica’s birthday.”

She looked down at the top of the glass, the wine now still. “Seeing the way her parents wrapped their arms around him—that’s a scene that makes you speechless. That fills you with tears because there are no words to describe that kind of love. I swear, I watched her parents take a breath like they hadn’t breathed in two years.” She halted again, appearing to fight whatever was threatening to come through her eyes. “Two days later, he left. He’d only had a couple days off, and he’d made the long trek home just to celebrate his sister’s twenty-first birthday.”

I exhaled, shaking my head. “All right, you won that round.”

She took a long pull of her wine, holding it in her mouth before swallowing. “It’s those kinds of moments I want to see. The ones that teach you, that show you another side of yourself.” She broke our connection to glance around the restaurant, eventually returning to me. “As for travel, I was fortunate to grow up with parents who liked when I tagged along, and they took me on most of their vacations, but there are so many places I want to experience. Like boating down the Yangtze River in China and soaking in a salt pool in Egypt. I’m dying to see the waterfalls and cliffs of Milford Sound in New Zealand.”

There were standard answers—Rome, Paris, London, Dublin, the regular European and UK tourist traps that I almost always heard whenever I asked this question. And then there were people like Jo and me who wanted to go off the radar and see the deeper parts of the world.

Not even my brothers were game for that.

But she was.

I held the glass of wine against my chest, staring at her before I took a sip. “What do you dream of?”

She took a deep breath, breaking our contact once again until she spoke. “I dream about making someone overwhelmingly happy. About becoming a mother. About having a successful career, where I can make a difference at the company, where I can make a name for myself. I don’t want to just fit in. I want to be remembered.”

Jo’s maturity was something that constantly shocked me.

I never felt like I was speaking to a college student. She had more intellect than half the attorneys I worked with.

“You will be.” I grinned. “I have no doubt about that. Once you pick the opportunity that feels best to you, you’re going to flourish.”

She said nothing as she gazed at me, her lids eventually narrowing. “It’s not that easy.”

“No?”

She shook her head as the waitress approached.

“Have you had a chance to look over the menu?” the waitress asked.

The thick binding was open in front of Jo, and she glanced up at me and said, “May I order for us?”

That was something no woman had ever done for me.

I was curious about what she would select and if it would meet my expectations.

But I still gave her the chance, handing my menu to the waitress, my stare fixed on Jo when I replied, “Impress me.”

“We’ll start with the ahi tuna, please,” Jo instructed. “We’ll then share the porterhouse, cooked medium, with a dry baked potato along with the au gratin potatoes, and an order of the marinated mushrooms.” She paused. “Can we have hollandaise and béarnaise sauce on the side?”

“Delicious choices,” the waitress responded. “Anything else?”

“Sage butter,” Jo said, selecting my favorite from their extensive butter list. “And we’ll also start with the bacon.”

My mouth watered—the bacon was one of the items this restaurant was known for.

“I’ll put the order right in,” the waitress said and disappeared from our table.

Jo turned in her chair, folding her arms over her chest, her legs crossed in the aisle between our table and the one next to us. “I did good, didn’t I?”

I shook my head, acting disappointed. “I was thinking of ordering the salmon.”

Without pause, she snapped, “Bullshit.”

I laughed. “I couldn’t have done better, honestly.”

I reached across the open space, my fingers landing on her thigh.

The move didn’t startle her—she had seen me coming.

But it startled me in the way she felt.

The warmth of her skin, the way it welcomed me.

The placement that felt so right.

So fucking perfect.

“How else can I surprise you tonight, Jenner?”

You just did.

But something told me she already knew that.