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

Never in all my life have I experienced a beer run that was so unrelated to beer. I’m sitting in Madison’s driveway now, trying to process it before I go inside.

I need a few damn minutes to figure out what the hell happened.

My head is still in my palms when there’s a light knock on the truck window.

I’m not sure I have enough energy to meet more new people, but reluctantly, I lift my head. Nope, scratch that—I’m up for anything.

Madison stands on the other side of the glass. She’s wearing an uneasy smile, but there’s something in her worried expression and pinched brows that has me wanting to know…everything.

She makes a rolling motion with her hand, and internally I groan while I do as she asks. It only took me an embarrassing few seconds to realize that it is, in fact, an actual crank to roll the window down.

“That bad, huh?” she asks, resting her folded arms on the door. The truck is so high, or she’s so small that she’s able to rest her chin on her forearms without bending much. She pats the inside of the door. “Old Fender here is still pretty loud. I heard you pull in, and everyone’s been watching you for the last fifteen minutes.”

Leaning over the steering wheel, I see no less than six heads that immediately duck when they notice I’ve caught them staring.

“Fender?” I ask, choosing to focus on that and not my embarrassment about hiding in my truck.

“Yup.” She laughs. “Pops taught me to drive in this thing, but I could hardly see over the wheel. I had a homemade booster seat, but I still left my mark all over town. The locals started calling him Fender Bender, and they cleared the streets when I got my license.”

Madison’s expression lightens.

“That’s a great story,” I admit. “My mother hired someone to teach me after my grandfather pressured her to spend time with me.”

She scans my face as if she’ll find what she’s looking for if she only searches hard enough.

“Is that how you grew up? Raised by other people?” There’s no judgment in her tone—if anything, there’s understanding there.

I shrug, feeling hot under the collar. “Pretty much. I was an oops baby, and my parents really couldn’t be bothered with me.”

I shouldn’t be telling her this. My whole reason for being here is to accomplish Ace’s mission and get home, but she’s too easy to talk to.

“I know how that feels.” Her words are soft and full of understanding. “So, you ready for dinner? I should’ve warned you that Pops was probably setting you up. The entire town is on Braxton watch. I’m sure the trip to the packy was interesting.”

“The packy?”

“The package store. Where you bought the beer.”

“Oh, yeah.” I drop my hand to my lap when I notice I’m scratching at my chest. It’s a tell of mine that I’ve never been able to shake. “Is it normal to have your height measured in a liquor store? Or—or asked your blood type? What my intentions are? Why I paid for a six-month stay? How did they even know that one? It hadn’t even been an hour.”

She opens my door. “We will discuss that, by the way. You seriously overpaid, and I won’t accept it. And to answer your question, yes, it’s normal around here. This town loves hard. They protect even harder. For newbies, they put you through your paces before you’re accepted. And those of us who have been here a while, well, we always know we’re safe. Come on inside.”

“Is that what this is tonight?” I point to the window, where all the spying eyes once again duck away, while pointedly ignoring her comment on money because I’m not budging on that.

“Pops likes you more than most. I’m sure this is his hazing plan to get it all out in one go so you two can be friends.” She nervously tugs on the elastic around her wrist.

“Hazing? I thought that was illegal now.” I laugh as I exit the truck, dragging the box of beer and wine with me.

“You’d be surprised what you can get away with here in the South.”

“Why don’t you have an accent?” The question comes out of nowhere, but now that I think about it, her friends don’t either.

“I didn’t move here until I was ten. I lived with my parents before that in New York, Maine, and Massachusetts. I guess I missed my chance for a Southern drawl.”

I heft the box, and she shuts my door. “And your friends?”

She pauses on the porch steps. “I met Savvy and Clover in college. They both followed me home when…when I transferred home for my sophomore year, and you haven’t spent enough time with Elle because she’s as Southern as they come.”

“Huh.” There’s more to that sophomore-year transfer, but I’m not going to push her for details.

“Dinner will be an inquisition for sure. Just take everything in stride, and you’ll be all right. If it gets too out of control, I’ll hit the breaker in the basement to cut the power. That’ll be enough to get people moving.”

She opens the door but pauses and smiles at me—and the impact is like being shot out of a cannon. “Just remember, Pops likes you.”

“Should I be nervous?”

“I guess that depends on how honest you are.”

I trip over the threshold. I can be honest about everything except who I really am—that ruins everything. It always has.

“Should be easy then.”

If she hears the crack in my voice, she doesn’t comment on it. Either that, or the noise coming from the dining room drowned me out. It could go either way right now.

“He’s home.” Pops’ voice carries over the crowd. “Come on in here, boy. Let’s see what you got.”

Carrying the box into the dining room where everyone is still rushing to be seated, I lower it when I reach him so he can peer inside.

He nods as he inspects the bottles. When he lifts his gaze to mine, I see for the first time that this man has my number. I don’t know what he knows, but I’m sure he sees something in me I wasn’t ready to divulge.

“You did good, boy. Pass ’em around, then come sit.”

I do as he asks and walk around the table while everyone grabs a beer. When I get to Savvy, she pulls out a bottle of wine and raises a brow in my direction.

“Most expensive bottle at the packy? Good to know you’re aware that our girl is worth it.”

Heat creeps up my neck, and I’m one thousand percent sure everyone in this room is witness to my blushing.

“Savvy,” Madison reprimands her with one word. Savvy shrugs and sets the bottle on the table while I make a quick retreat to the kitchen to put the rest of the beer and wine away.

By the time I return to the table, there’s only one chair available—directly to Madison’s left and dead center in the middle of everyone.

What’s the worst that can happen, right? They’ve all been nice so far. So I take a seat next to Madison and let the games begin.

My ass isn’t even in the chair before Pops speaks.

“Boy, meet Shep. He dated Madi after college.”

Poor Shep chokes on his beer.

“Ah, I wouldn’t call it dating.” Beau chuckles.

Madison lifts her wine glass to her lips and tips it back, swallowing three times before she sets it back on the table.

Clover, who sits to my left, leans in close. “Don’t worry about Pops. He’s just messing with you, it means he likes you.”

“And then Beau tried to date her for a time.” Pops is sitting at the head of the table and completely in his element.

“That wasn’t dating either,” Shep says. “Madi’s a matchmaker, remember? Just because she goes out to dinner with someone doesn’t mean it’s a date for herself.”

“Clover and Madi dated this nitwit,” the man introduced as Chief says. “Madi only dated this one in middle school.”

“Ah, Uncle. I can feel the love from here,” Beau says.

“Why are you giving my dating history at dinner, Pops?” Madison asks.

“What’s the big deal?” Beau asks. “Newbie over there might as well know if he’s going to date one of us, he’s dating all of us. That’s how it works around here.”

“That’s disgusting, Beau.” Savvy throws a roll at him. Turning to me, she shrugs. “The dating pool is abysmal in town, so sometimes you date your friend’s ex. It’s not as incestual as they make it out to be.”

Now it’s my turn to chug my beer, and when I do, I make eye contact with the giant named Cian who hasn’t said two words. He blinks as though he’s bored, and I focus on my beer.

“Who said he was here to date anyone?” Clover asks. Is she coming to my defense? She might be my favorite of Madison’s friends.

“Have you seen the way he looks at Madi?” the second-biggest man in the room says. There’s no denying that he lives up to the nickname Moose.

Once again, my face is on fire.

“He’s blushing. Leave the boy alone,” Pops says.

“Pops,” Madison scoffs. “You’re the one who started it.”

He shrugs her off, picks up a casserole dish, puts a scoop on his plate, and passes it to the right.

Everyone else takes that as a cue to do the same, and before I know what’s happening, dishes of all shapes and colors are making their way around the table.

“What are you doing here for six months?” one of Pops’ friends asks, but I’m not sure who. Everyone is running together at this point.

“I’m on sabbatical. Just regrouping and figuring out what direction I want to take my company in going forward.”

“What kind of business?” Savvy asks, and all heads turn in my direction. Didn’t she already ask me what I do? They don’t mess around with their inquisitions.

“Um, marketing mostly. That’s where my heart is.” It’s only a partial lie. I do have an entire marketing department, but the last thing I need anyone knowing is just how much money I come from or that I’m one of those Montgomerys.

“What does that⁠—”

“Guys,” Madison interrupts. “Let’s eat before it gets cold, okay?”

Blessed silence falls over the table for thirty whole seconds.

“Was this your destination, or did you just land here?”

“What do you plan to do for six months?”

“Can you afford to just sit on your ass all day?”

“Did you max out your credit card to pay for a six-month stay?”

And those are the easy questions. My mind is spinning in a way even the most seasoned of public relations personnel wouldn’t have been able to control.

Maybe I am in over my head here, because I think I just got my ass handed to me by three old men and three guys I think have all dated the woman to my right.

And the only part of it that I care about is who’s dated Madison.

“Just so you know, Pops is messing with you to see how you’ll react,” Madison whispers. I inch closer to her, drawn in by her heat, her kindness, her. “Savvy dated Beau. Then, years later, I had dinner with him to help him plan a proposal that never happened, and Pops counts that as a date.” She’s a mind reader. “He’s probably also told you I’ve dated everyone I ever went to the movies with, sat next to, or talked to on the phone. It’s all to see how you’ll react so he’ll know what to watch for. He’s done this since I came to live with him.”

“Why?”

“He’s hellbent on marrying me off before he dies.”

I spin to face her. “Is he ill?”

She laughs and tucks her hair behind her ear. Even her fucking neck is delicate, and why I’m noticing this shit is freaking me out a little. “He’s going blind in one eye—that’s why his depth perception is off—but otherwise he’s as healthy as he’s ever been. He’ll probably be here for another twenty years.”

“Huh,” I say as I mull over her words. “So, are you saying he thinks I’m a potential suitor?”

She covers her mouth to hide a laugh. “Suitor? How old are you?”

“Thirty. So, does he?”

She sighs and glances around the table. “If Pops has anything to say about it, every eligible bachelor is a suitor.”

“And what about you? What do you want?”

She turns her gaze on me, and I swear to Christ, all the noise of our tablemates becomes muted.

“I don’t know anymore.” The sadness in those four words makes my chest ache.

Before I can respond, she stands. “Ready for dessert?” she asks no one and everyone.

A chorus of yeses goes up. I start to rise, but Clover pats my arm. “Sit. We’ll help her.”

My ass hits the chair again as Madison and her three friends hurry to the kitchen, carrying dirty dishes. So many questions are floating around in my head that I don’t even know where to start.

The swinging door to the kitchen is still swaying gently when laughter cuts through my focus. I turn back to find Pops watching me with a suspiciously smug expression and a smile that makes me think he’s all too happy to play matchmaker himself.

It’s hours before the last guest leaves. After the initial rapid-fire questions session, things settled down, and by the time dessert was over, I found I was enjoying myself.

I never checked my phone to see if my family had caused any more headaches for me yet. In fact, I’m not even sure where it is at the moment, and I don’t care. Instead, I head to the kitchen because I know that’s where I’ll find Madison.

The door swings open with a nerve-grating sound. There must be some kind of oil or something for that. I’ll have to remember to ask Pops in the morning. Three beers for the old man, and he was in bed before his friends even left.

Madison spins around to face me. The bottom half of her shirt is soaking wet, and she’s wearing hideous lime green rubber gloves.

“Did the faucet break again?” I ask.

Confusion makes her brows pinch together as she looks from me to the sink and back again. “No, why?”

I move closer and point to her T-shirt. She glances down and laughs. “I’m guessing you’ve never hand-washed dishes before?”

Shame burns in my face. I’ve lived a life of privilege even if my parents made sure I knew I was a burden to them.

“Once or twice in college, but my fraternity house had a chef and a house cleaner on staff.”

“I didn’t peg you for a frat boy.” Once again, there’s no judgment there. It makes me wonder if she ever judges anyone.

I shrug. “I did whatever I could to avoid my parents.” Even living with my grandfather, they still found ways to make my life a living hell because they also refused to hand over guardianship of me—it was Alistair’s way of maintaining control.

She’s biting her bottom lip as she listens. Then she returns to face the sink. “I’m sorry your family didn’t see your worth. I hope you’ve found people who do.”

Those words slice through my armor. She truly cares if I have people to depend on, and she doesn’t even know me. It makes me want to care for her in ways I’ve never even considered caring for another person before.

It’s as though her kindness is weaved with magic meant only for me, and I’m not going to lie, it’s kind of terrifying the fuck out of me.

“Grey is like a brother to me,” I say, then cautiously move to stand next to her at the sink. Picking up the towel on the counter, I wait for her to hand me a wet dish.

She’s hesitant to let me help again, and she holds the plate between us before finally relenting and handing it to me.

“You really don’t need to help,” she says, her voice a whisper.

“Do you ever allow anyone to help you, or do you always do it yourself?”

“It’s just easier to do things myself sometimes.”

“Ah,” I say. “You’re a people pleaser. Do you ever put yourself first and say no?”

Her body stiffens next to me. “I take the path of least resistance.”

“You avoid conflict.”

She huffs and places one dripping gloved fist on her hip. “You’re a paying guest, and someone Pops duped into overpaying.”

“Not true,” I say, taking another dish from her soapy hand. “That was my choice. If I had to eat out for breakfast and dinner, I’d be paying a lot more. If anything, I’d say you’re undervaluing your service.”

We fall into companionable silence as she washes and I dry. It’s not until we’re down to the last casserole pan that she responds.

“We can’t charge more until this place is restored.”

“How’s the restoration going?” I think I know the answer, but I want to see how honest she’ll be with me.

A twinge of guilt sours my stomach. I’m asking for honesty when I haven’t been truthful from the start.

“It’s not. Pops was a carpenter by trade, but his vision has made it impossible to do the work himself. I’m really not sure why he bought all this sheetrock and stuff. He knows we can’t afford it, but he’s probably in denial about not being able to do the work anymore.”

I think about that for a moment and then reflect on our outing today. From the hardware store to the diner, he introduced me to everyone as though I was a friend helping out—as though I were someone who would be here for a long time. Maybe he thinks I can do something with this place.

Why does that idea excite me? I’ve never built or painted anything, or even so much as swung a hammer in my life, but the concept of actually fixing something instead of what my father has done for the last ten years excites me as nothing else ever has.

“Maybe I can help,” I say.

Madison stares at me curiously, then reaches onto her tiptoes to put a dish on a top shelf she has no way of reaching.

Stepping behind her to take the dish from her hand is an immediate mistake. She smells like summer—light, fresh, with a hint of citrus that reminds me of sunny days at the ocean.

The second my hand touches hers, she steps back into my body, and it’s as though we’re the chemical bond of two atoms. We just fit.

She gasps at the connection, and I take the large bowl from her hand before it slips even as my pulse gallops in my chest. “I’ve got it.” My words are quiet and low, but they convey an attraction I shouldn’t be feeling after only a day.

Madison tilts her head back then up, her baby-blue irises glowing in the dim overhead lighting as she stares at me. For the first time I can remember, I have the urge to kiss a complete stranger.

“Thank you.” Her voice is throaty and so damn sexy I can’t look away from her as she turns to face me.

“Happy to help.” My body inches closer, needing the sizzle of her skin to jolt me back to life.

Time slows as our bodies press together, eyes locked. Even our breathing syncs.

She licks her lips and I lean in, attracted to the shimmering moisture her tongue leaves behind. A kiss from her might ruin me for all others. The pull between us is inescapable, irrefutable, and terrifying as fucking hell.

“It, um, goes on the top shelf,” she says, barely above a whisper.

I slip the bowl onto the shelf without looking. “All set.”

Madison nods, and so do I.

I’m going to kiss her. She opens her mouth to say something, but we’re interrupted by a loud whoosh and then a crash.

We jump apart with electricity still zinging between us and turn toward the sound.

She holds a hand to her heart. “Oh my God. It’s the dang sheetrock.”

I peer around her. Two of the three sheets I had leaned against the door are on the floor, cracked in half.

“They’re broken,” she chokes out. “No matter what Pops says to you tomorrow, you cannot let him buy more. We can’t afford it. I know I shouldn’t admit that to you, but it’s the truth, and I know how pushy that old man can be.”

“I promise. I won’t let him buy anything else.”

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “Thank you for your help. I, ah, have an early morning so I should get to bed. Do you need anything before I go?”

“No, I’m good. Thank you for letting me help. I’ve never felt…useful before. It’s a new experience for me, and I don’t hate it.” My lips pull into a smile that she reciprocates. “That is truly embarrassing to admit.”

“Not embarrassing, it’s honest. I appreciate that. And I’m very happy to be at your service. So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” I say as I follow her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. It isn’t until she opens a door that I realize we share a wall.

Madison stands at her door while I walk past her to mine. Our gazes collide with that magnetic pulse that thrives when we’re close.

“Goodnight, Braxton.” Her words are soft and gentle. They make me want to hold her tight.

“Goodnight, Madison.”

She opens her mouth, probably to tell me to call her Madi again, but I open my door and walk through it before I do something monumentally stupid and drag her into my room.

But I won’t call her Madi—that’s a name for everyone else. Madison feels like a secret just for me, and I want that sensation much more than I should.