fee would go to local literacy. “It’s a good cause.” He hadn’t taken the military route that Nathan and Jayden had. They’d been literally out saving the world. Instead, all Grayson could offer was his name and his money to support charitable efforts where he could. And he knew Deborah understood his motivations completely.
“I’ll be finished with Billie in plenty of time to meet you here before the dedication.” He pushed to his feet and stretched. “I’m going to hit the gym this afternoon and then see if I can scare up a massage somewhere.”
His mom rolled her eyes. “Read your schedule!” She headed toward the connecting door that separated Grayson’s suite from her own. “I’ve arranged a massage for you right here at four o’clock. Don’t forget to tip your masseuse and don’t forget to meet me at seven. We’re having drinks with the Deckers at Twine.”
He groaned. Claudia and Myron Decker had more money than Midas and could always be counted on to support his foundation, Grayson Good. But in the process, they definitely liked to trot him out as if he were their prized bull. Ergo the appearance the next day at the new library. “It’s never just drinks with the Deckers.”
“And whose fault is that?” She gave him one more pointed look. “They’re bankrolling the event tomorrow, so wear a clean shirt and don’t be late.”
Billie was wearing another short skirt complete with the intriguing zipper running right up over her backside.
Only difference today was that her skirt was black and the silky tank top that exposed her tanned shoulders was white. The high-heeled shoes were red, and the legs they showed off were still flat-out stunning.
She had her hair pulled back into a thick ponytail at the back of her head. The hairstyle not only exposed the trio of earrings on the upper curve of her ear, but the long, long line of her throat.
“Talk about perfect timing,” she called to him as he jaywalked across the street toward the real estate office. She gestured at the dark gray luxury sedan parked at the curb next to her. “I just got here, myself.” She waited until he reached her side of the street. “Where did you park?”
“I walked from my hotel.”
Her bright smile turned stricken as she scurried to the passenger door and opened it. “I’m so sorry. I should have offered to pick you up. It didn’t even occur to me to—”
“No apologies, darlin’,” he interrupted, looking at her over the top rims of his sunglasses. “I liked the walk.” It was a good way to work out his muscle kinks and some of his hangover from the night before. “And it gave me a chance to get this.” He lifted his oversize takeout coffee.
Her smile widened once more. She reached inside the vehicle, giving him an eye-popping view of her inner knee and thigh. Then she straightened and he belatedly noticed the identical cup she’d retrieved.
“If you tell me that’s straight-up black coffee, I may have to marry you right now.”
Her cheeks turned red, but she laughed. “Fortunately, all the hopeful women of the world can rest easy this morning. It’s iced chai tea.”
He made a face. “That’s almost as bad as cucumber-laced water.”
She laughed again and stepped out of the way. “Maybe I can redeem myself by offering plenty of legroom. Your chariot, Mr. Fortune.”
“Told you. Just Grayson.” He ducked his head and climbed into the passenger seat of the spacious car.
It was the kind of vehicle a wealthy grandmother might drive. Definitely not what he’d expect of a young woman like Billie.
He waited until she’d climbed behind the wheel and strapped herself in with the seat belt. “Company car?”
She laughed yet again, but wryly this time. “Don’t I wish. I’d much prefer the payment to be on Austin Elite’s bank account than on mine. But no.” She patted the leather-wrapped steering wheel. “She’s all mine. Or will be after six more payments to the bank. It’s not the newest model, but it’s comfortable and gets me where my clients and I need to go.”
“Sort of how I feel about my truck.” He’d had many over the years, but could easily remember when his truck had been his largest investment. “Not the newest but it gets me where my horses and I need to go.”
“Wasn’t a new truck one of the prizes last year at the Cowboy Country rodeo?”
Surprised, he gave her a look. Rather than settle her cup of nasty-ass tea next to his coffee in the console, she’d tucked it between her knees and was starting the engine. He had won the new truck, but had turned around and auctioned it off through Grayson Good for a children’s charity. “You actually follow rodeo?”
“I come from a large family,” she said. “They’re into everything from baseball to zebra racing.” Her cheeks still looked a little red as she pulled on a pair of gold-rimmed aviator sunglasses and checked the traffic before zipping out into it.
Given the sudden speed, he was glad he’d already fastened his seat belt. And also glad they were essentially driving around in a small tank.
“So...” She reached behind her seat and retrieved a fancy folder that she handed to him. “I’ve printed all the listings we reviewed yesterday, plus a few more that I think might be of interest, too. There’s also a map if you’re inclined to follow along.” She nipped the big car between two semitrucks with about six inches to spare.
He grabbed his cup and wished there was something stronger inside it than just French roast.
She raced through a light more yellow than green, braked slightly around a curve and sped up a freeway on-ramp. “Is it too windy for you?” His window was halfway down and hers was all the way down, making her long ponytail fly around her head.
“Wind’s good.” Aside from the fact that she looked young and beautiful and vibrant, he was hoping he wouldn’t have to hang his head out the window.
It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable with her fast—make that maniacal, he decided when she shot across two lanes of traffic—driving.
It was more the combination of her obvious lead foot and the evening-into-night of drinks with the Deckers the night before. Then everything had gotten out of control, and the cops had been called, and a news crew showed up...
He planted his ball cap more firmly on his head and sucked on the coffee. He’d warned his mom that drinks with the Deckers was never a simple thing. Even when they were trying to do something good like sponsor the library deal. “Which place are we heading to first?”
Billie held the steering wheel and her tea in one hand and reached over to the folder she’d dropped on his lap, and he damn near choked on his coffee. But all she did was flip open the folder to reveal a colorful printed map.
“Property number one.” She lightly tapped the page, then returned her hand to the steering wheel. Evidently, only to maneuver the car right back across the same two lanes of traffic.
He closed his eyes. Give him six
