The Renegade Billionaire: A Small Town Romance (Happiness Ever After Book 1)

“’Bout time,” Pops says with a chuckle, catching me off guard.

Why did I ever think we’d be able to sneak in this morning?

“Pops, why are you waiting in the dark?” I turn on the foyer light, and he’s sitting in his recliner, wearing pajamas covered in turkeys with his hands clasped over his belly and a smile so broad his cheeks smoosh up like Santa Claus.

“Why are y’all sneaking in at six in the morning?”

“Ah,” Braxton’s voice cracks. “That was my fault. Uh…” He cuts a nervous glance my way then flashes Pops an uneasy shrug. “We had a flat tire?”

I groan, but Pops throws his head back and laughs while swinging his feet back and forth on the footrest of his recliner.

“Try again, boy. I didn’t let Madi get her license until she knew how to check her oil and change a tire.”

“Ran out of gas?” Braxton tries again, not even bothering to hide the humor in his tone this time.

“Gas station ain’t open yet.” If I didn’t know better, I’d say Pops is enjoying this just as much as Braxton.

“A bear was blocking the road.” Braxton crosses the room to sit on the sofa closest to Pops.

“What color bear?”

Braxton turns a cheeky grin my way. “Black bear.”

“She’s still telling folks there’s bears around here?”

“Pops,” I huff. He’s supposed to be on my side.

“Chin’s not lookin’ as bad as I thought it would,” Pops says, eyeing Braxton’s face.

“Not bad at all.” As if to prove his point, Braxton works his jaw side to side.

“How’d he get the jump on ya? That jackalope hasn’t been sober since he crawled home again.”

Braxton leans back into the sofa and crosses his arms behind his head. How can he look so…just…at home here? “I had more important things to protect than my ugly mug, Pops.”

My grandfather harrumphs in victory. “That’s right. And don’t you forget it. This staying out all night ain’t good for her reputation though. Whatcha going to do about that?”

Swinging my arms wildly in the air, I step in front of them both.

“I swear to all things holy, Pops. I’m not a teenager, and this is not the 1950s. The only one who should be worrying about my reputation is me. I’m going to start breakfast.”

Halfway to the kitchen, I spin back around and point a finger at my grandfather.

“What are your plans today, old man?” I narrow my gaze at the oldest child Happiness, Georgia has ever seen.

Pops tries to move me along with a flick of his hand. “I’m not your child, Madi. Don’t you go worrying about me.”

“Pops!”

“Fine.” He huffs. “The boy and I have a lunch date at the diner, and then we’re gonna check out the Chug. Haven’t been there in a while, and I want to catch up on things.”

My shoulders inch toward my ears with guilt, and the sass I’d been wielding escapes on a wheeze. “I know I haven’t had as much free time to take you to all your activities, but we really do have a budget to stick to.”

He ignores me as he always does when I attempt to talk about our finances.

“Patty’s fundraiser at the barn is tomorrow night,” he says. “Moose is takin’ me, but the boy here, he’s going to help us get set up today.”

Braxton doesn’t even flinch. It’s as though he couldn’t care less that he’s become my grandfather’s gopher. In fact, he nods as if he’s enjoying every second of it.

“Pops, Braxton’s knuckles are all cut up from whatever the heck you had him helping with yesterday. He isn’t your handyman or your rideshare driver. He has actual work he needs to do.” Turning to him, I frown. “Don’t you?”

“I have some phone calls to make today, but I’ve got time to be Pops’ steward.”

“You’re not helping,” I groan.

“He is. Now, do you want to talk about why you were out all night with the boy, or do you want to get on with our day?”

“Pops, it’s not like that,” Braxton says gently.

“Like what?” I ask, spinning on him. Why is it so easy to confront this man when I can’t even tell my lifelong best friends that I don’t want to go out for a stinking drink?

What am I doing? I’m losing my dang mind, that’s what I’m doing.

Braxton’s jaw jumps, and whatever he’s thinking has his irises shifting to a darker shade of amber.

“I didn’t do anything to disrespect her honor, Pops. I swear to you.” He’s speaking to my grandfather, but his gaze is saying something completely different to me. Something like, I didn’t disrespect her honor, but I sure as hell wanted to.

He raises a brow in my direction, and my cheeks get hot and tingly.

“Madison showed me the Georgia moon, and she fell asleep trying to get me to count shooting stars. She’s been working so hard I didn’t have the heart to wake her.”

“Mm-hmm,” Pops says noncommittally. “And I s’pose you were watching for bears too.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ugh.” The urge to stomp my feet in frustration is only dimmed when Braxton pulls his phone out of his pocket, and I see his face fall.

“It’s three in the morning in California. I’m sorry, I have to…” He answers the call. “Grey? What’s wrong?”

Pops and I exchange a worried expression. I don’t know how much Braxton has shared with Pops about his life in California—in fact, I still don’t know much, but I do know that Grey is his family, and judging by the way Pops sits his chair upright and leans forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, he knows it too.

“When? Is Sage okay?” Braxton’s gaze darts to mine, and my pulse rages in my ears.

Sage? He’s said that name before, but I can’t place it.

“Of course,” Braxton puts his elbows on his knees, and his shoulders tighten, but his stare never leaves me, and it secures me to the floor. His fear carries to me as though he’s the flame and I’m the gasoline. “I’ll figure it out before you get here.” He nods, but I see the pain in his expression. “Whatever it takes. Keep me posted, and I’ll have everything situated before you guys arrive. Love you too.”

He drops the phone into his lap, his hands flex, and his breath escapes in short bursts of air through his nose like a trapped animal.

“Braxton?” My voice is unsteady, and he swallows hard, but his gaze darts back and forth as if he’s trying to come up with a solution to an unsolvable equation.

“Son?” Pops asks. This time, Braxton blinks, and determination covers his features.

“That was Greyson.” His voice is vibrating as if he’s trying to control himself. “He’ll be here in a couple of days.”

Pops and I share a look and nod.

“Any chance you’re willing to take on an extended stay for one more?” he asks. “If not, I understand. The hotel probably has openings, I never bothered to check, but they’ll no longer be commuting between coasts. They’ll need to be here, with me, for…a while.”

“Is everything okay?” I ask. Pops is already lifting himself from the recliner and waving me over toward Braxton.

We both take a seat on either side of our guest who has quickly become a friend.

“What do you need, Braxton?” My head snaps up to my grandfather. It might be the first time I’ve heard him say Braxton’s name. “Besides another room.”

Braxton lifts his gaze to mine, and I understand his pain without knowing the details. It’s the same way I’d feel if Clover, Savvy, or Elle were in trouble.

“Are they okay?” My throat is tight, expecting the worst.

He lifts his hand to his chest and scratches a one-inch space above his heart, then nods. “My parents—and maybe my siblings—aren’t happy they’ve been cut off financially. They went after Sage—my nephew—to prove a point.”

Cut off? Just how much money does this guy have?

“Did they hurt him?” Are we safe? I spare a glance at Pops, but he’s not at all fazed.

“Not physically. Sage is, he’s—he hasn’t had the easiest life.” He drops his gaze to the floor. “His mother died in…childbirth, but he’s such a good kid. My father had him arrested for stealing my car.” His face hardens, the angle of his jaw more pronounced. “A car that I left for him. It’s hitting the papers this morning and painting Ace, Greyson, and me as shitty role models.”

“But why? Why?” It’s all I can think to say. My body is growing itchy, and my lungs clam up as though they’ve been caught in a bear trap.

The media and I have a dark history.

“Because when my grandfather passed away, he placed six-month contingencies on everyone’s inheritance, but my father refuses to play by the rules. He’s never thought they apply to him. I’m sure in his mind, doing shit like this will scare Greyson into forfeiting his inheritance. He’ll probably come after all of us instead of doing what he’s supposed to.”

“You’re safe here, son. This town will take care of ya,” Pops says with certainty in his tone.

“He’ll do all of this over a—a marketing company? What kind of things do you market?” I ask cautiously. The itchiness crawls across my skin at the thought of an innocent child being hounded by reporters. It triggers the worst time in my life.

Braxton takes my hand in his. Pink creeps across his cheeks, and his fingertips turn white where he’s digging them into his chest.

Is he embarrassed to tell me?

“It’s, ah, a worldwide, um, corporation. My great-grandfather started it so he could publish my great grandmother’s articles. It was just a small-town monthly periodical that became a beloved magazine in northern California. Then my grandmother was more interested in movies and television, so when my grandfather took over the company, he expanded it so she could follow her dreams.”

“Why do you sound embarrassed by that?”

He shrugs and drops his gaze to the floor. “I’m not. It’s not my great-grandparents or my grandparents I’m embarrassed by either. They led our company with love and compassion. It’s my parents who attempted to ruin it. I never thought of it as my passion, but I took over by default because my parents had no moral compass. My grandfather supported me and Grey learning the ins and outs of the company in college so we’d be ready. I didn’t earn my place there, but I spend every day trying to maintain the legacy it was meant to be.”

“I knew there was good in ya, boy. We’ve got plenty of room. Don’t you worry about that.” Pops pats Braxton’s knee with the fondness of a grandfather.

I swear dollar signs are lighting up behind his eyes though. “Pops, we are not taking any more money from him, do you hear me? We have the room at the end of the hall, and he’s already overpaid. I won’t⁠—”

“I’ll make a deal with you,” Braxton says, and I purse my lips together. As much as I innately trust this man, he has a sneaky way of getting me to agree to things I wouldn’t if he were anyone else.

“What kind of deal?”

“I’ll help Pops fix up whatever needs fixing around here in exchange for room and board for Sage.” I open my mouth, but he squeezes my hand. Freaking hell. I’d forgotten he was still holding it. “If they stay longer than a few weeks, we’ll renegotiate.”

“That’s a very generous offer, Braxton. But I know my grandfather. Fixing up the inn is going to cost more than a few weeks’ stay.”

He shrugs. “Then it’s a deal you shouldn’t refuse.”

It takes effort, but I remove my hand from his. “I don’t understand why you’d do this. I love Happiness, don’t get me wrong, but people don’t just drop thousands of dollars to stay in a run-down inn. They don’t make these kinds of deals. It doesn’t make any sense, so forgive me if I’m a little suspicious.”

Braxton’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I feel as though I have purpose here, Madison. For the first time in my life, I’m doing what I want to do. I’m making a difference. I’m making friends—” He drops his chin to his chest. When he meets my gaze again, I see the truth in his words. “At least, I hope I’m making friends. You asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, well maybe this is it. Maybe it’s finally time I get to be the helper.”

Fist, meet stomach. It’s an emotional sucker punch, but how can I deny him that? He wants to be a freaking helper, and all I want to know is how this kindhearted man ended up in my inn, spreading kindness like he’s some kind of stinking fairy.

“Do you have any idea what you’re signing up for here? In case you haven’t noticed, my grandfather doesn’t exactly believe in boundaries.”

Pops harrumphs from his spot on the sofa.

“I promise I won’t do anything I don’t want to do, and I’ll make sure we stay on a budget too.”

I stare at a spot on the wall that used to hold a picture of me and my parents at the lake. We removed it when I moved in because it made me spiral, but there’s something about that empty spot now that has my insides trembling. The picture hook it hung on is still in the drywall, and the longer I stare at it, the heavier and more out of sync my heartbeat grows.

I haven’t had this sensation in years. Not since before my parents threw me away—when I thought I knew what love felt like.

It’s as though some hidden piece of myself is nudging me to trust Braxton, or at least to give it a try, and it’s so overwhelming. I nod and stand quickly.

My guest is not teaching me how to love again. He’s just not.

“Fine. That sounds fine. How do we claim that on taxes, and what will it do to the insurance and house evaluation? Would we acknowledge it as a gift? Or a grant? Are there scholarships for renovations?”

It’s so off-topic and so far removed from the spiraling happening in my mind, I choke on a laugh. It’s something Pops would do to ease the tension.

Gah. I cover my entire face with both palms. “What’s wrong with me?”

Braxton chuckles too, but it’s subdued. I’m probably freaking him out, and he has enough to worry about, so I lower my hands to my lap.

“I’m not sure how you’d claim it, but I promise to find out,” he says with kind eyes that shatter my reserves.

“Great. Breakfast.”

I spin so quickly, only one foot touches the floor before I’m nearly sprinting for the kitchen.

“I signed us up for the peanut butter cream cheese brownies for tomorrow,” Pops calls through the swinging door, and I drop my forehead to the cold metal of the refrigerator.

“You’re the only one who eats those, Pops,” I shout back.

“The boy’ll eat them too.”

The boy. In what world is a grown freaking man okay with being called boy all day long?

My world, apparently. Or the wonderland I’ve fallen into, anyway. Because there’s not a dang thing about Braxton Mitchell that makes sense except that he makes my body sizzle in ways I’ve only ever read about. But if my brain doesn’t get on board soon, I’ll end up right back where I was all those years ago.

And there isn’t a man alive who I’ll allow to break me again. It’s a good reminder for me. Braxton Mitchell is a guest, a passerby, a town visitor. I cannot get my heart involved.

Braxton’s rich laughter booms from the family room, followed by Pops’ voice working a new scheme, and my body sings with familiarity. No matter how much I deny it, that man in there makes me feel safe.

Maybe it’s too late. Maybe my heart is already involved, and I don’t know if there’s anything I can do to stop it.