Rosabel And The Billionaire Beast (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove Book 6) Page 7

  He was ostracized from his family. He needed more than money to fix that.

  She tried to let leave it alone, but a different thought nudged its way in. Strange as the notion sounded in her mind, she wanted to help Duncan. Everything inside of her argued against it. He was selfish; he’d only expect as much of her. He’d only take her for granted, the way he’d done ever since she’d accepted the executive assistant job. Regardless of those facts, she wanted to. Any decent person would want to do the same.

  Thinking of their meeting yesterday also brought his grandma’s request to mind. Rosabel paused to look up the number to a flower shop in Eureka Springs. Lily and Rose was the only listing. Rosabel called and gave the woman on the other end Duncan’s grandma’s outrageous order for bouquets, as well as the date and location for delivery, and then breathed with relief once the task was done.

  Her feet took the final few wooden steps before approaching the dock, and her breath caught in her chest. The view was superb. Water spread as far as she could see, hemmed in by trees of every shade of green. Blue sky capped the scene, shouting its happy color in every direction and yet adding tranquility all at once.

  “Wow,” she breathed. “This is absolutely amazing.”

  Beast or no, she wouldn’t be here, experiencing this, if not for Duncan.

  She wasn’t sure if the view inspired her, or the reminder that she wouldn’t be here enjoying such a little-known American treasure like the Ozark mountains, or whether it was just plain good manners, but she decided it: she would help him. Her upbringing would allow no less, and she knew that if Dad could understand the entirety of the situation with the mind he’d once had, he would agree.

  A sigh escaped her. Rosabel’s feet crunched down the remaining decline and stepped onto the wooden dock. Her sneakers were silent on the wood, until another pair of shoes scraping behind her made her stiffen and turn.

  Hands in his jacket pockets, Duncan approached with a carefree, castaway glance. Hair messy, jeans ending at a pair of black sports shoes, he was the picture of casual. Against her will, her heart rattled out a few erratic beats.

  “Pretty astounding, isn’t it?” he said.

  Her shoulders relaxed. “You scared me.”

  “Sorry. I saw you turn off after talking to that woman and decided to see what had caught your interest. This was the same view that impressed me the first time I came here.” He rested his elbows on the railing that prevented an unsuspecting admirer from plummeting into the gleaming water.

  Rosabel wasn’t sure how she should respond to this. He’d been watching her run? She supposed she hadn’t made much distance from his lake house, so the idea wasn’t that odd, but still. Why would he care where she went?

  “What did bring you here?” she asked, deciding to keep the conversation light.

  “The seclusion. And the fishing.”

  “You’re lying.”

  He released a laugh. “I’m not. I love to fish.”

  Rosabel rested her weight against the railing behind her and folded her arms. “I don’t buy that at all. When have you ever liked to do anything besides work?”

  He faked a hurt expression and placed a hand on his heart. “How little you know me.”

  “How little I do,” she agreed, fully serious—unlike his laid-back approach. “Okay, then. You like to fish. So you bought a whole hunk of house out in the middle of nowhere just to fish?” Bitterness seeped into her tone. She couldn’t get past her earlier irritation at him, though why such an outrageous purchase for something so small should bother her so much, she couldn’t tell.

  “You make it sound like that’s an odd thing, but a man needs his space.”

  “And if you can afford to, why not take as much space as you can get?”

  “Exactly.”

  “That wasn’t a logical compliment, but you’re taking it as one.”

  “Of course I am,” Duncan said. “Why not enjoy such serenity? I love Vermont, but my life is busy. So busy, Rose. I just needed to get away, and I’m not about to stay with my family.”

  The thought pinched unexpectedly in Rosabel’s chest. “Why do you avoid them so much?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I noticed when we met them yesterday. You didn’t even hug your mother. None of you said much to each other, and then when you and I left, no one really said anything; you all just went on your way.”

  “Are things supposed to be any different?”

  Discomfort wedged between them, along with something like sympathy. His question was completely serious. How much he’d missed, and he didn’t even know it.

  “If you could only have been there when my mom was still around, when my dad was his normal self. We had the most amazing conversations over meals after I came home from school. Home was warm; it was welcoming and a place I never wanted to leave. My family was my best friend, and our extended family is even more amazing. We could form a whole orchestra, so many of us play instruments. In fact, we did all play together when my grandma died—one of our cousins conducted us together.”

  Keeping a hand on the railing, he faced her. “How many cousins do you have?”

  “I don’t know, over forty.”

  “Forty?”

  “Sure,” she said with a shrug. “Not including my parents, who tried but couldn’t have any more kids after I was born, we’re a big family. We’d get together on Thanksgiving and Christmas to play games and share our music. We gathered for intellectual conversations I always felt so privileged to be a part of. They instilled in me a thirst for knowledge, for betterment, for—”

  “Music,” he said, finishing her sentence. He moved closer to her on the dock. “What do you play?”

  “The flute,” she said. “I haven’t picked it up in a few years, but now I wish I had my instrument here. I can’t remember when I had so much free time.”

  “I’d like to hear you play.”

  She examined her shoes. “No, you wouldn’t.”

  Gently, his hand brushed her elbow. “Don’t go painting this picture of a perfect life and refuse to let me in on it. You should play for me.”

  Rosabel was entranced by the moment, caught off guard by his sincerity, by the gentleness in his voice, and by the directness of his eyes. Their hazel color created a haze around her mind, threatening to make her forget who she was talking to. This is Duncan, she told herself. You can’t open yourself up to him. “I don’t know. It’s been too long.”

  Silence shrouded the air. Her earlier resolve to help him didn’t do her any favors in this moment. He was pricking a hidden pocket in her heart, a portion of herself she’d kept locked away from him or any other man. She couldn’t afford to feel more than friendship. Her attention needed to be on her dad, and on her work to care for him.

  Duncan wouldn’t know what to do if she offered her heart to him. He would either trample it or attempt to lord over it, neither of which she wanted. She needed to leave, to get away from him, from this romantic setting, from the way he continued to play pinball with her heart.

  She was about to turn and make the trek back up the mountainside to the road and finish her run when he spoke again. “My family has praiseworthy qualities too,” he said softly. “Yes, we’re all very work-focused, but my parents have supported large charities and funded cancer research for years. My mother devoted a large portion of her attention to building a successful fashion design business. She has many talents and has used those to create wardrobes that are geared to help teen girls with their self-esteem.”

  Rosabel’s brows shot up. She never would have guessed as much from the interaction she saw.

  “With my mom working, often in foreign countries, my grandmother raised me. She might not have been the warmest person, and she might have her social standards, but I still love her because she taught me to work hard and to not give up on my dreams. She taught me the value of perseverance. My family supported my education and helped me buy a place when I left for schoo
l. I suppose we don’t have the intricate connection you share with yours, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t connected.” His eyes held a trace of something she couldn’t read. Had she hurt him?

  “I—Duncan, I didn’t mean—”

  He glanced out at the lake. “I can tell I’ve interrupted your morning. I’ll see you later.”

  He turned his back to her and traipsed across the deck, not so much like a dog with his tail between his legs, but more like a resolute man with his head high. Despite his effervescent confidence, she could feel it. She’d hurt him somehow.

  Why should she care this much? He’d inadvertently—and sometimes directly—riled her so many times she couldn’t count.

  Rosabel contemplated following him, joining him back up the long hike, but instead, she watched him go, wondering what had just happened.

  Dissatisfaction bubbled in at a low boil. The man was infuriating. She didn’t have a clue how to read him. He was different here in the Ozarks than he was in the hustle-bustle of busyness back home. Half of the time she wondered if he had any feelings at all, so when he showed them now, they took her completely by surprise.

  She’d said too much, as always. Spouting off was a bad habit of hers where he was concerned. Inwardly, she realized she considered him highly flawed, and that must have come out in her tone as well. Because he had money and treated others as though he was above them, she always suspected him to be slightly heartless. Discovering that wasn’t the case was harrowing, and she wasn’t sure how to handle this other Duncan, the thoughtful Duncan, the one who talked about his family and didn’t shout orders at her or demand coffee.

  Then again, what did she expect? She’d been the one to request this other side of him, hadn’t she? He was giving her exactly what she’d asked for, and she’d thrown his compliance back in his face. Rosabel hadn’t expected him to affect her like this.

  She ran up the steep incline and had to catch her breath. After making her way back to his lake house, she hoped to find him within, but she wasn’t about to scamper around the square footage calling his name. He was nowhere in sight.

  Perplexed about what to do, Rosabel trundled to her room, stripped out of her workout clothes, and took a restless shower. She toweled her hair, prepped her makeup, and dressed before heading downstairs.

  The apology she’d prepared during her shower dropped from her lips the moment she stepped into the kitchen to find Duncan in a dark suit with freshly gelled hair. The suit was cut to fit him perfectly. The black fabric emphasized his shoulders, his blue button-up shirt was a splash of color behind the gray tie he was in the process of adjusting, and his slacks emphasized the length of his legs.

  This was ridiculous. She’d seen him in suits plenty of times before this. What was her problem? She attempted to play off the effect he had on her. “What are you all dressed up for?”

  “I’m meeting with the owner of that property today, and you need to—”

  She quirked a brow and folded her arms.

  He grimaced. “I mean—I’d like for you to come with me. How do you feel about seeing Eureka Springs? It’s replete with those old homes you love.”

  “I thought we already went to Eureka Springs.”

  “Not exactly. You haven’t been in the actual town. It’s quite the sight. What do you say?”

  She placed a glass on the counter. “Why exactly do you need me while you meet with this realtor?”

  “It’s your job,” he reminded her. “You’re here to be my assistant and assist me.”

  “What do you possibly need assistance with? You’re a brilliant businessman—I’ve seen you close deal after deal on multiple investments. You’ve never needed me for anything other than to run your errands and keep track of the paperwork.”

  His voice perked up, and he opened his hands to her. “Exactly. I might need you to bring one of those files you’re so fond of. You know, put papers and stuff in it.”

  Her lips quirked. She did not want to smile at him.

  His eyes took on a warm glint of admiration. “And while you know I think you dress well, you might want to glam things up a little bit for this.”

  He thought she dressed well? She never would have thought he noticed what she wore. “Well, you are in a suit. I suppose it would look strange if I came in jeans.”

  “You might feel better. I’m taking you out on the town after we’re done.”

  She rested a hand on her hip. “Oh, you are? That’s news to me.”

  “How so? Remember the part where I said we’re going out on the town? Eureka Springs? See the sights?”

  “Most people don’t dress up to do that.”

  “I’m not most people,” he said.

  “No, you’re not.” She paused, thinking this new turn in their conversation over. Dressing up? Taking her out on the town? “This sounds too much like a date.”

  He held up his hands. “Not a date. I know very well how you feel about that.” He considered the situation, and then buttoned his suit coat. “You know what? Friend, here. Dress how you’d like.”

  “Duncan,” she chided.

  “It’s true. You don’t need to dress up. I’m in a suit because it’s my power stance.”

  She laughed, picturing him flexing his muscles or bouncing on the balls of his feet the way a fighter readying for battle might do. He smiled in response, and the sight only stretched her own. Had she ever seen him smile like this before? This … cheerful? Happiness lit up his face, making his eyes gleam, and drew out a dimple in his left cheek.

  “You have dimples?” She’d noticed them before but had never drawn attention to the fact.

  His amusement dimmed. He pointed to his cheek. “Just the one. I try not to smile. Don’t want to let that thing loose.”

  “Why not? It’s cute.”

  “Cute? Did you just call me cute?”

  “No. I called your dimple cute.”

  “Don’t go naming it now.”

  Mischief sprang into Rosabel’s mind, along with dozens of possibilities. “Now that you mention it, how about Daphne?”

  “It’s not a girl dimple. Are you changing or not?”

  She inched toward him. “Don’t change the subject. What about Humphrey?”

  “Clothes, Rosie. I’d like to leave soon. You need to—”

  “Oh, I know! Wilbur.”

  Duncan closed several more steps between them, escalating her pulse. With the counter at her side, the window behind, and the table to the other side, she didn’t have much room to escape. Duncan’s eyes held hers. His lips twitched, but something subtle had fallen into his gaze, like a steaming hot coal, adding luster and warmth there that increased because his focus was directed at her.

  “Rosabel.” He said her name in a private way, a way that made her want to keep it in a jar. “I do need to go. Would you like to come with me?”

  She swallowed under the weight of that stare. “Yes,” she said. “Thank you for asking. And no, I’m not going to change into anything fancier.”

  A muscle jumped in his jaw. His heat was intense, spiking something within her. He smelled like sage and spice. She had the strangest desire to reach for him, to stroke his skin or feel his hand in hers.

  “Fair enough,” he said. “We leave in five minutes.”

  9

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  Clive pulled up to the front of the Queen Anne Victorian that Duncan had called the Painted Lady. Rosabel gaped out the window at its picturesque beauty, its buttercream color, and its front tower with a pointed roof that reminded her of a dollop of cream. He’d denied that this was a date, but what else could their outing be? She’d made her adoration of this house more than clear the last time they’d driven past. Was he really here to purchase it, or was he here for … some other reason?

  To show his interest in her?

  “What?” Duncan rested one hand on the car’s handle.

  Rosabel shook the preposterous thought from her mind and st
eepled her hands against her mouth. “You never said this was the house whose owner you had a meeting with.”

  “Yes, I did. You weren’t listening.” He exited the car, and she scrambled out after him, completely starstruck.

  There it was, standing majestically in all its glory. The house was even more incredible up close. She soaked in details she hadn’t noticed before. The circular window surrounded by stone. The chiseled details in the shutters. The signs of age on the front steps. She adored this house.

  If only Rosabel had dressed up. Formal attire might cement this fantasy that much more. Here, she’d told him her fascination for Victorians just like this one, and he’d not only taken her to one, but he was buying it.

  Reflecting on a few of her earlier interactions with Duncan, suspicion sneaked its way behind her sternum all over again. During their drive from the airport, when they’d first arrived in Arkansas, she’d confessed her love of old houses. In the kitchen, not an hour before, he’d all but hinted that this was a date—short of calling their jaunt that word. Not only that, but before they’d even boarded the plane, Duncan had asked her to be in a relationship with him. Was this an underhanded way of getting her to agree?

  What if the action wasn’t underhanded at all? What if he did have feelings for her? The thought made her stomach churn.

  “Are you coming?” Duncan asked, clearly wondering why she loitered on the sidewalk.

  “This is the most beautiful house I have ever seen …” Rosabel said. “And you’re telling me we get to see inside it?”

  “I thought you’d like that.” Duncan gave her that smirk before nodding to Clive and mounting the first of a series of steps to the Painted Lady’s front door.

  There again, the suspicion edged its way in. No. No way. No possible way did he think he was doing this for her. He’d said this purchase was for his grandma. Duncan didn’t—couldn’t—have feelings for her.