Sugarbaby (8 page)

“Just a brief legal document saying that you won't talk about my personal details. There's already enough about me on the Internet to last for years.” He shrugged. “But that's my life. That's how it goes.”

I'd been called a cheater this summer, a liar, and I didn't like the insinuation that the only thing that would keep me honest was some document.

“I wouldn't ever talk to the press or whatever they call themselves these days,” I said.

Noah took a few seconds to survey me, as if he had truth radar in his head and knew how to use it to its full extent. He probably also knew that, if it came right down to it, he could sic a lawyer on me so fast that my head would spin.

“I believe you,” he finally said. “Even if Simmons does throttle me for talking too much without an NDA.”

A glow circled inside me. He believed in me. So many people in this town hadn't, and this meant something. I would never betray his trust.

I must've passed his test, because he went on. “If you're wondering how I bought a house in secret, it's all about cash transactions through an offshore account, very quick and efficient. Having my own place is a lot more appealing than staying in a hotel—if Aidan Falls even had an adequate one. The sellers weren't interested in an offer at first, but they were persuaded.”

By the amount he'd quoted them, no doubt.

I remembered how Simmons had said “housing” wasn't an issue on this trip. “You must've decided to buy a mansion right after you planned to come here.”

“I don't sit on issues very long. That's not how my father taught me to run business. Besides, property is always a good investment.”

The relative lightness that had just been in this tent seemed to dim at the mention of his dad, and I wanted Noah back the way he had been. “So you did buy a mansion. I'm not wrong about that?”

He shrugged, and it was almost a humble gesture.

For some reason, I found that funny, and a laugh bubbled up in me. It grew and grew until I had to shake my head to level myself out. All the while, he grinned at me, as if he enjoyed the sounds I was making.

When I was done he lifted his eyebrows in question.

“You,” I said. “A mansion. There aren't many in Aidan Falls. Just McMansions, really.”

“True, it's not the biggest place I've ever seen, but it'll do.”

“And listen to
that
!” I laughed some more. “I feel lucky to have a roof over my head.”

He sobered. “I must sound like a snob.”

“You're just not used to mingling with the little people.”

“Jadyn,” he said, “you don't come off as little in the slightest. I've never met anyone more self-possessed.”

Really? He made me shine with that from the inside out until I had to bite back an overwhelming smile.

He seemed to take some delight out of that, too. Glad I was entertaining him.

“Funny,” I said, finally reaching for the strawberries and putting a couple on my plate, “how you're drawn to Aidan Falls and I can't wait to get out of it.”

“So I've heard.”

His comment gave me a start, and I froze with a strawberry halfway to my mouth. “You heard what?”

“You know that thing called the Internet that you used to research me?”

“You used it, too.” That's how he'd known where I worked, where I lived.

Now that I'd finally listened to his story, I wasn't afraid that he was stalky or weird. Heck, I'd looked him up, as well. And, most of all, I felt for him. How many people had to shut themselves out of the public eye because of family problems? And
big
family problems.

But I could tell he wasn't the kind who liked pity. I didn't, either.

“What did you find out about me?” I asked, biting into my strawberry as if I wasn't bothered by the turn this discussion had taken.

“There were some social media posts about you. Things only assholes would say.”

Such anger in his tone again, and suddenly I saw the guy on the Hellfire dance floor who'd nearly been throttled by a mob because one of them had almost run me over.

I didn't want to remember that, though, especially with the champagne being so bubbly and nice. “All of that gossip is done with. Don't pay any mind to it.”

“It's not very done if this Rex boy and Micah gave you a bad rep around here. Reputations last, Jadyn. Believe me.”

Ominous. Again, I didn't want him to go back to frowning, so I said, “Reeves, even your money can't change people's opinions about me.”

He sat back at the “Reeves,” a side grin consuming him before he said, “You're right. But at least now I know where you get that stiff spine. You'd need one to walk around here with your head up.”

It was my turn to shrug as I drank. The champagne mingled with the taste of strawberry, and I relaxed even more. “I can take care of myself.”

“Just like you took care of your uncle. I know about that, too.” His smile tickled my heart. “Like I said, Jadyn, you're good people. I knew it right away.”

Before I could get too embarrassed, he stood, walking toward the open side of the tent. I wouldn't have been so shocked at that one move if he hadn't also started to work off his sweater.

At the sight of rippling deltoids and muscled arms, my libido did a jiggidy jig.
He really is rash
, I thought as I got to my unsteady feet and stood by the tent's opening. “What're you
doing
?”

He was already ten feet away. “I've had my eye on that lake. It'd be a shame to leave today without giving it a go.”

“But . . . food. You haven't even eaten.”

“Not hungry,” he said over his shoulder as he started running for the water—or more precisely, some pine trees that lined the lake.

I didn't stop him as he reached a tall rock then began to climb it.

I glanced at Simmons, who'd gotten up and was making his way toward his friend.

“Noah!” Simmons called.

But he was already done with the rock, which allowed him to grasp a low pine branch. With a grace that brought his muscles into marbled motion, he pulled himself up, then swung to the next branch.

Simmons kept going, telling Noah that this was juvenile, that the water would be too cold or shallow.

Noah merely saluted Simmons, and even from here, I could see he wasn't going to change his mind.

I yelled to Simmons. “Don't worry—it's deep enough at that spot!”

The look on Simmons's face told me he didn't give a crap. Noah hadn't known that before he'd climbed a tree for what was surely going to be a daredevil dive.

Now I didn't think he was just rash. “Reckless” and “inexplicable” were more like it.

When he dove off the tree, his arms spread wide, I closed my eyes, even if I knew the water would take him, cradle him in its depths. But what had gotten into him? Was he this much of a wild rich boy who did anything he wanted? Could he afford to have such a lust for life? Did he ever pay for his impulsiveness?

As he broke up through the water's surface, he gave a rebel yell, and I couldn't help thinking it was one of release, of a certain freedom.

I stayed in the tent, still knowing what was best for me. Knowing that now, more than ever, we were from very different worlds.

Knowing that I couldn't afford his kind of reckless.

***

If I had been distracted from studying earlier, before Noah had swept me off to the lake, I was light-years more distracted now.

And, truthfully, still a tad buzzed from the champagne. But studying wouldn't wait, so I'd forced myself to sit down and get it done.

My iPad screen blurred in front of my eyes, making alphabet soup out of the biology text in front of me, and my mind wandered to the picnic again. Noah had kept his promise about stealing me for only a couple of hours, and I'd secretly been disappointed when he'd walked me to the Ferrari where Simmons was waiting behind the wheel.

“Just a suggestion,” I'd said to Noah before I got in. “You might need a less flashy set of wheels if you want to lay low in Aidan Falls. And you might want to stay out of the emergency room.”

He ignored my fine medical advice, even if evidence of his insanity was still all over him—the wet hair that a towel hadn't quite dried, the damp pants and shoes. At least his sweater was dry.

“That's why Simmons is the one who's driving the Ferrari,” he'd said. “But maybe I'll get one of those charming rattletrap pickups I see so often around here.”

“That'd work,” I'd said, thinking of how he'd look in the cab of a farm truck.
The Great Gatsby
meets
The Grapes of Wrath
.

Then he'd lifted my hand, brushing his lips across my knuckles, and I'd almost died. As he'd grinned at me, letting go of my hand, I'd taken one last look into those green eyes, just to keep the image in my memories, and managed to offer him a dignified thank-you. For an ecstatic second, I'd thought Noah might even lean over to wrap me in his arms and give me a full-on kiss, but he'd shut my door then taken a few steps back, walking after the car as Simmons drove away. I could see Noah in the side mirror, the daredevil, the enigma, fading in the distance.

But he didn't fade in my head.

Now, I put down the tablet, sighing in frustration. I hadn't tried to like him, but I did, and he only was across town, on the “good side,” where the lawns got watered every day and the driveways even sparkled.

But come on—as if he was going to pay another call to the waitress. I'd had my day out with him while he'd made up for all the confusion of those texts, and that was that.

I got back to the grindstone, but half of what I put into my head about biology surely spilled out as Noah kept forcing his way in. And when my doorbell rang, it was a great relief.

I hopped out of my chair, looked through the peephole, and saw . . .

Simmons?

Had I forgotten something in the car? No, I had my sweater on, and my purse was hanging on the coat rack by the door where I always kept it.

I creaked the door open, revealing Noah's right-hand man—and a few other people with loaded arms who were lingering in back of him.

“Hello,” he said evenly, as if he popped up on doorsteps bearing good tidings all the time.

I stood there like a dolt, even as a kid holding a box full of food—oh, I could smell something savory coming out of it from here—shifted back and forth on his boots. There was also a man with a dolly stacked with crates—champagne?—and a woman with a clothes rack on which expensive linen bags were hanging.

Simmons cocked his coiffed head at my silence.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Gifts,” he said, as if I were stupid as well as half blind.

So much for Noah laying low in town. But he'd more than made up for the whole mysterious-texter situation to me, so why all these gifts?

Still in shock, I opened the door, allowing everyone in. The champagne and food people headed for the kitchen while the woman with the clothes rack dropped off her wares in the family room. Everyone left without a word except for Simmons.

All I could do was shake my head at him in wonder until he handed me an envelope.

“And what's this?” I asked.

“Noah thought you might like what he called a ‘flight out of Aidan Falls.' A crate of Bollinger Special Cuvee champagne, some gourmet French food from a private chef he flew out for his new residence, and . . .”

His words trailed because I was already trekking across the room to check out what was in the clothes bags. I unzipped the first one and, oh, my. The most beautiful gown I'd ever seen was waiting there, pink chiffon with a demure black belt at the empire waist. I noticed shoe boxes in a compartment below the rack's floor.

I was in Lena Horne heaven.

Simmons said, “Alterations will be arranged. Noah would've sent accessories, but the stylist he's working with wanted more time to choose the appropriate trimmings.” He paused, then said, “
I
told him jewelry wasn't appropriate.”

Because I wasn't his girlfriend? Then what the heck was this?

“I can't accept these gifts,” I said.

“He knew you'd say that. I made a bold prediction that you would, as well.” Simmons began to leave, then hesitated. “Jadyn, if you would, can you make him happy by accepting? Text him, thank him, but don't insist on returning any of this. It's his pleasure. It really is.”

Then he shut the door behind him, and there I stood, not knowing what to do with myself.

After Noah and Simmons had tipped me three hundred dollars at the café, I'd felt like Cinderella, but now . . . ? Cinderella times a million.

It must be nice to throw cash at random girls like this
, I thought, realizing that I was still holding an envelope.

Inside was a gift card for a first-class airline ticket to anywhere and a note.

Jadyn,

I want you to feel your best for whenever you decide you're ready to pack up from this town and go. I'm lucky our paths crossed, even for only a few days. Enjoy.

So there it was—a beginning and now an end to my time with a billionaire.

I would've been an idiot to hope for any more than that.

“Is your brain tilted at the wrong angle?” asked my friend Evie from my computer screen. “How can you possibly be feeling weird about accepting such awesome presents from . . . What was his name again?”

From the other side of the split Skype screen, Shelby said, “Noah Reeves. Jeez, Evie. He was in the news earlier this year.”

Knowing that Carley would be busy with Bret, I'd texted my university-bound friends to see if they had a minute or a hundred to advise me on the etiquette of gracefully accepting out-of-control gifts from a reclusive, foolhardy tycoon. There weren't exactly any books I could consult on this, and even the Internet had zero info about having a young sugar daddy. If that's what Noah was to me.

Was he?

I leaned back on the sofa as Shelby schooled Evie on Noah's headlines and Evie nodded, remembering now. My friends were two polar opposites on that screen: Evie with her red hair in two punky buns on the top of her head and a lip piercing, Shelby with her long blond hair and girl-next-door-gone-model looks.

“I got it now,” Evie said, resting her chin in her palm. “I thought his disappearing act was strange at the time, but this whole sext thing is even stranger. And the clothes and booze and food and trip that he gave you? Jade, I say consider it par for the course and enjoy. How could you even hesitate to accept that stuff? Score!”

“I won't be returning any of it.” I hadn't told them about the tree dive into the lake. I half-thought they might not believe it. “His friend Simmons sounded like he really didn't want me to give the gifts back. It was like he was telling me it'd be a slap in the face to Noah, and I'm pretty sure Simmons protects him from anything that could offend him like that.”

Evie laughed. “Just like a good valet. God, I can't believe I'm having a conversation with the word ‘valet' in it.”

“That's not really what Simmons is,” I said.

“I still like the word.” Evie laughed. “It's so jet-set.”

Shelby was putting on some hoop earrings; I'd caught her right before she was headed to Micah's apartment near the Texas-U campus. Nearby, he'd just started repairing vintage cars, and Shelby was proud of the reputation he was getting for being good at his work. Sometimes he even came back to town on the weekends to help his cousins out with their fix-it shop, but I never saw him. It was for the best, really.

“So what are you going to say to Noah when you thank him?” Shelby asked, finishing with her second earring.

Evie busted in. “How about asking him to go to London or Monte Carlo or somewhere romantic with you? You can wear that pink dress and va-va-voom him.”

Evie. The girl claimed to be asexual—I hadn't even known that it was a thing until I'd met her—but she had a cupid's streak a mile wide.

“I used to be a romantic, too,” I said. “But I'm not sure I have it in me anymore.”

Shelby picked up a brush and sighed. “And here I thought you were doing so well with feeling better about yourself after Rex.”

I'd thought that, too. After we'd all confronted Rex and his friends by the lake one night, showing them that we weren't afraid of their taunts and razor tongues, I'd experienced a burst of confidence. Then reality had set in—the lonely aftermath of Uncle Joseph's death, the way the town had gone back to ignoring me as if I wasn't even there. At least it was better than being harassed.

Evie pointed at the screen. “You, my girl, need to put on some brass balls and accept these gestures Prince Charming is making to you. Let him bring you gifts.”

“Brass balls, Evie?” Shelby asked.

“You know what I mean.” She fixed a long look on me. “I have only one question for you, and one bottom-line question only. Do you like Noah?”

“Like him?” I asked. “As in me and Noah sittin' in a tree?”

Evie shook her head at my aversion tactics, and Shelby sighed again, running that brush through her hair and saying, “She doesn't want to admit it, Evie. I was like that with Micah, though, so I get it. I hated that I liked him at first.”

“I hated when you liked him, too,” I said. But look at how that'd turned out. They'd gotten over their issues and were together as together could be.

Evie tried once more. “I don't care if this guy is King of Industryland and you're Little Miss Not. It sounds like he came down to Aidan Falls to meet you, and you don't seem to understand that this means something, Jade.”

I squirmed in my seat at where she was taking this. “Maybe this was no big deal to him. All I know is that you can't breathe a word. He might sue me if this ever got to the press.”

“Please,” Evie said. “Stop bobbing and weaving. I ask you again—Do. You. Like. Him?”

“It's not so simple,” I said, thinking of that tree dive again. Plus my million other issues with him.

Shelby put down her brush. “Just what are you afraid of?”

They were asking some good questions, and I wasn't sure I was ready to answer them. Had I gotten too comfortable being lonely, staying in my own social slot and taking no risks? Because what
would
happen if I texted Noah again, just to say thank you? What would he do if I happened to find him in one of the few small mansions in town to bring him a plate of brownies?

Would Noah suddenly start laughing at me like Rex had done after everything had fallen apart between us?

“Jade,” Shelby said, “have
fun
, like you used to a few years ago. Don't you miss having fun?”

“Exactly.” Evie nodded. “Don't be a blob.”

Shelby laughed, and I knew it was because that'd been Evie's mantra for the summer with Shel—don't be a blob, don't let the past with Rex turn you into a mass of sad gelatinous matter.

They dropped the lectures as if they sensed I'd heard enough. Even though they hadn't been my friends for more than the summer, we all knew one another well. Being outsiders did that to relationships.

“So,” Evie said, “how's that Carley girl working out at the Angel's Seat?”

Evie was fishing for compliments now. “She's no you,” I said. “But she's going to give you competition when you come back for the holidays.”

“You're hanging out a lot?” Evie asked.

“More and more.”

“Cool.”

Then Shelby chimed in. “I'm only happy that Mom can afford the help now.”

“Thanks to you.” I grinned at her. Shelby was only a sophomore, but she'd already helped her mom as well as Mr. Carmichael turn around their businesses with a web presence.

Evie sat up straight as the sound of a slamming door came across the computer. “Ah! Roomies are home with Chinese takeout! Can you hear my stomach grumbling?”

“Go on and get it,” I said to her. “And, Evie?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for the pick-me-up.”

She blew a kiss at the screen and disconnected, leaving Shelby alone with me.

She pushed aside her brush, leaning toward me. “You good, Jade? Really?”

I paused before I nodded, but once I got started, I realized that I already knew what I needed to do next. Take brownies to the billionaire. They were no gourmet treats or a crate of champagne, but I wanted to return his gesture in my own way.

And I wanted to see him. Would I ever be able to admit that? He enthralled me and even scared me a little.

But this was the first time I'd felt alive in months. Why not bask in that temporarily?

Shelby smiled and raised a pinkie finger to the screen. “We refugees need to stick together, you know.”

I held out a pinkie toward her, and we pretended to hook them. We'd decided over the summer that we ex-Rex girls were almost the same, through and through—we'd both needed his validation, and we were both flattered to be with the superstar.

Until we weren't.

We disconnected from Skype at the same time, and I stared at the screen, enjoying the last moments of my sanity before I ran this small but crucial errand that every single cautious cell inside me was telling me to avoid.

I ignored the advice, putting aside my computer, then going to the kitchen to find that brownie recipe.

***

I drove to the other side of town, down Main Street, and into the suburb below The Hill where families like Carley's lived.

The Hill. That's what everyone called the area where a few Greek Revivals boasted swimming pools that glistened even during the fall and winter, where iron gates closed at the lips of the driveways and spacious lawns yawned with fresh green grass that never seemed to get overgrown.

I'd texted Evie to ask her cousin Amy, the gossip queen of the town, to see if there was any intel on one of The Hill's mansions going up for a quick sale lately. Amy, who didn't even wonder why Evie was asking, said that she'd heard of some action at the Walters' place and that it'd been purchased for a corporate retreat or something. Sounded like Noah to me.

And, like the other few McMansions on The Hill, the gates to this one were closed.

I pulled my weathered Aspen to the foot of them, looking down at the plate of brownies waiting on my passenger seat as the streetlights filtered through the window to gleam off the foil. What now?

You can turn around and drive away. Or . . .

My phone waited next to my gift.

Or you could brass ball it.

I picked up that phone and texted before I could doubt myself.

Jadyn:

What does a person have to do to get these gates of yours to open? Or should I just scale them like a rock and tree?

I waited, my motor purring . . . and in more ways than one. It was as if something with ragged wings had gotten loose in my belly, brushing lower and lower.

When the gates began to open, I startled.

So Noah hadn't burned the “Aidan” phone yet. Had he kept it on him in the hopes that I would contact him with a thank-you?

Last chance. Drive through or drive off. Your choice
.

My spirits fluttered, and with a spark of adrenaline surging through me, I guided my car through those gates, the moonlit lawn rushing past me as I drove up the hill. The ride seemed to take forever while going by in a flash at the same time.

I was doing this. Really doing this.

The fountain in front of the white, pillared, Scarlett O'Hara–looking mansion was on, water trickling. A few lights brandied the windows, warming the cool night. And there on the porch . . .

Noah.

He'd been standing toward the left edge of it, out of the lanterns' illumination. From where he was, he had a grand view of how the town spread out under The Hill. His hands were shoved into the pockets of his black trousers as he surveyed what was below him—the green traffic lights on the quiet roads, the football-field lights on at the high school. In a way, he seemed like a ghost.

I took a deep breath, grabbing the plate of brownies, glancing at the big house and almost abandoning my gift because it seemed so inadequate. But then I thought of Evie and Shelby and how disappointed they'd be in me if I bugged out. I also thought of how disappointed I'd be in myself.

I shut the car door and it echoed through the air, making Noah turn to me. He walked into the light, his slight smile giving me the goose bumps again.

“Looks like you did a little more research on me,” he said, his voice smoothing up my skin.

“I had to find out where to deliver these.” I shoved the brownies toward him, even though we were ten feet away from each other.

His smile turned into a heart-tugging, half-surprised expression. He came toward the steps as I climbed them, meeting him on the porch to hand off my goodies.

Okay, maybe not goodies, exactly. Not the kind I'd been fantasizing about.

Peering under the tinfoil, he asked, “Homemade?”

“Pretty much. I hope you like a lot of chocolate since I added Hershey's chips.”

“Hershey's.” He laughed. “I haven't had those candy bars since . . .”

“You were a kid?”

“Yeah.”

His lone dimple returned as he set the plate on the railing and took a brownie, offering it to me.

I held up my hands. “I ate a lot of the batter. Baker's prerogative.”

He took a bite, closed his eyes, then opened them, showing me a world of gratitude. For what, though? Couldn't he get brownies from the chef he'd flown in?

“Thank you, Jadyn,” he said, and his tone seemed thicker, as if there was some emotion in it that I couldn't begin to guess at.

I wasn't sure why, but the outline of my heart stung. This king of industry, this man whose world had fallen around him last summer . . . He wasn't just some fixture in gossip columns or in the business world. He was human, and I wondered how many people ever got to see that.

“Actually,” I said softly, “I came over here to thank
you
. I know brownies are nothing compared to what you sent over to my house earlier, but it was better than just texting you.”

“Why do you do that?” he asked.

I frowned at the abruptness of his vague question.

He took a step toward me, and the stinging around my heart became a steady buzz.

“Why,” he said, “would you degrade your own kindness like that?”

I shrugged. “Because you gave me a slice of the world today, and I gave you—”

“Several slices of your own world.”

As he ate the rest of the brownie, I realized that he wasn't just blowing sunshine at me—he really did appreciate the effort I'd gone through. I suspected that he was even eating not so much because it was food, but because I'd brought it.

All the pixels in me lit up, banging together. I liked making him feel good—I'd always liked doing that with people, and that was why I wanted to go to school to be a doctor and take care of those who couldn't do it themselves. Sometimes I had no idea why I was made that way, because there'd been days when badness would creep into me while I was taking care of Uncle Joseph and dark questions would bring me down. Would I always be taking care of someone? When would I ever get a chance to break out on my own?