Baby and the Billionaire

by Beverly Evans

  "Like what?" Sylvia asks.

  "Like eating meatballs on the floor," I tell her.

  "And?" she asks. She leans closer. "And?"

  "And he spent the night."

  Her hand pulls out of the bowl to cover her mouth, sending popcorn flying. I think she says something, but it's lost in a high-pitched sound I can't decipher. She ends up staring at everything scattered around the living room, her eyes wide, and her mouth slightly open.

  I take the opportunity to go into my bedroom and change clothes. When I come back, Sylvia seems to have gotten ahold of herself. She’s already back to working her way through the popcorn, and my eyes drift past her to the small stack on the corner of the mantle.

  "So, am I going to get more story than that?" she asks.

  "No," I shake my head. "At least, not right now."

  "Why not?" she asks. "I've been waiting to hear this story since college."

  "There is no story. It happened. He's leaving tomorrow. That's really it. But, can I show you something?"

  "Sure," she says. "Don't worry. It's probably rug burn."

  I pause partway to the mantle and glance back at her. "What?"

  She looks up from where she's picking through the bowl, now in pursuit of the perfect piece. Her eyes widen innocently. "Hmmm?"

  Grabbing the stack from the mantle, I bring it over to the couch and flop down beside her.

  "I found these." I hold out the notes and the chocolates. "The first note came with black roses."

  Sylvia sets aside the bowl and takes the notes. She opens the box and peeks in at the chocolates.

  "What is this?" she asks. "Who sent them?"

  I shake my head. "I don't know. Neither of them are signed, and they didn't come with anything else. Gavin thinks it's just some sort of sick joke, but I'm not so sure. I think it has something to do with last year."

  Sylvia rolls her eyes, dropping her head back briefly. "We're not going to get into this again, are we? You don't know what you saw. There was never any proof that anything happened."

  "You don't think it's strange that I witness a murder near Halloween, and then I start getting messages that say ‘trick or treat’?" I ask.

  "I think it's strange you think you witnessed a murder," she offers. "But so does the rest of Shadow Creek. I know it freaked you out, Scarlett, but it's been months. You should just listen to Gavin. Someone thinks they're being really funny, and if you just ignore it, they'll stop."

  She hands the notes and chocolates back to me, and I slip them back onto the mantle. Everyone around me seems completely convinced, but I'm not. Someone is trying to scare me, and I can't believe it's just for a joke.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Gavin

  I don't want to leave Shadow Creek. For the first time in my life, I'm not eager to get back to work. I'm not even feeling withdrawals from not spending a large chunk of the last few days checking my phone and doing as much work as is physically possible when I'm not in the office. But I have to go.

  I've already spent time with Beck and Ruby and said my goodbyes. Of course, Ruby is already trying to figure out when I'll be back. I had to tell her my next few months at work are going to be intense, and there won't be a chance for me to take time away. It will be quite a while before I'm able to make my way back.

  Which makes my stomach twist and hang heavily when I think of Scarlett. I never would have imagined getting so wrapped up in someone in only a few days. Yet here I am, after only a weekend with Scarlett, and already feeling torn. I'm not going to stop thinking about her anytime soon.

  But maybe that's exactly her purpose. The next time I encounter a challenge or something outside my comfort zone, I'll think back on her and the world she brought me into. Nothing in my work is going to bring me the satisfaction and excitement she did, but at least I can remind myself of the benefits of sometimes being willing to be at least somewhat flexible and open to whatever may come.

  All that's left is walking away from her.

  She's sitting behind her desk with a glossy brochure unfolded and spread out across the tabletop in front of her. She's holding a phone in one hand and poking at the buttons with one firm finger. Her expression tightens with frustration when it doesn't do whatever it is that she wants it to do, and she stares down at the instructions, then goes back to poking. I don't want to say goodbye to her. I want to be here to pick her up for another date or to bring her coffee and promise an evening together. Anything but leave.

  "Son of a bitch."

  Because she's so sweet and delicate.

  I walk up to the desk.

  "Everything alright?" I ask.

  She looks up at me and lets out an exasperated sigh. "Yeah. I'm just trying to program this new phone. How is it that the technology gets so advanced people use these things to preheat their ovens and monitor their blood sugar and raise their children, but we still have to go through thirty thousand steps to make it do things like get voicemail? I should be able to just put it on the desk and be like... yo... take a message."

  I laugh. "Is 'yo' a common part of your vocabulary?"

  "Only when it comes to phones and secretaries. Since I don't have a secretary, this thing is going to have to try to be both." She glares at the screen again and finally drops the phone to the desk. She looks at me and smiles. "Hi."

  "Hi." I reach my hands out for her, and she stands, coming around the desk to take them in hers. "My plane is leaving soon."

  "Oh."

  The awkwardness is starting to settle in. I'm not used to this type of goodbye, and I know Scarlett isn't, either. She holds my hands tighter and brings them to her chest, so they rest over her heart.

  "I had an incredible time with you," I tell her.

  "So, did I," she says. "Not many girls get rescued by their very own superhero and then get to learn their secret identities later."

  I return her smile and pull her closer so I can rest my hands on her hips.

  "Well, while I hope you don't end up in danger often, I will happily rescue you whenever you need it. And to make that easier, I have an idea."

  "What's that?" she asks.

  "Getting back to Shadow Creek is going to be a challenge for a few months, and I really have a lot going on back in the city. But I don't want to just say goodbye and walk away from you. So, I've already called my favorite hotel and arranged for a suite to be set aside for you. Any time you want to come, you just call them, and it will be taken care of. My plane will come and get you, and you'll have a car waiting for you."

  Her reaction isn't what I expect. Rather than immediately agreeing and jumping into my arms, she stammers and takes a step back. In that moment, the door to the office opens. Scarlett and I look toward it and see a familiar-looking woman come inside. She stops in her tracks and stares at us.

  "Marilyn," Scarlett nods, dropping my hands and walking toward the woman. "Great to see you."

  Marilyn. Now I remember. Medusa has arrived.

  "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Marilyn says.

  "Not at all. This is a friend of mine who's been visiting Shadow Creek for a few days, and he's getting ready to go home. Just swung by to say goodbye," Scarlett says. Her voice is breezy and almost dismissive.

  "That's nice." Marilyn's eyes bore into me. "Hello, Gavin."

  Scarlett looks surprised.

  "Oh. The two of you know each other?"

  "We met briefly at the Halloween party," I explain. "It's nice to see you again, Marilyn."

  She makes a sound that might be a response and turns back to Scarlett.

  "I want to arrange another tour of that house," she says. "There are a few more things I want to check."

  "Sure. I can meet with you later this afternoon. How’s 3:30?"

  "Perfect. I will meet you here."

  Marilyn looks at me and offers a cursory goodbye before sweeping out of the office.

  "That was awkward," I mutter. "I'm not sure why it was so awkward, but it was. So
…"

  "Gavin," Scarlett says, cutting me off. "I appreciate what you're trying to do. It's very sweet and gallant of you. As Pretty Woman as it might be. But it's really not necessary."

  "What do you mean? I don't want things to be strange between us."

  "Which is exactly why it's not necessary. This doesn't have to be weird. It doesn't have to be uncomfortable. Us meeting was fantastic. We really enjoyed our time together, but now that's come to an end. It's time for both of us to go back to our lives. The February snow is melting."

  She smiles softly and takes my hands again. "It's really okay, Gavin. You were an amazing adventure. But that doesn't mean you need to feel awkward or obligated to me."

  "I don't feel obligated to you," I insist. "That's not what this is about. I really do want to see you again."

  "In a hotel suite in your city when you aren't working?" She raises an eyebrow and shakes her head. "That's not a life. It isn't logical to even pretend there's more between us than having fun together over the weekend."

  "Since when are you logical?" I ask.

  "I am when I have to be. You have your life there. I have my life here. And I don't need to be kept," she says. "I wish it didn't have to be this way, but it is what it is. At least for now. Maybe we'll see each other again sometime. Shadow Creek does frequently need superheroes, you know."

  I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around her reaction. Planning a way for her to come to Richmond and visit me whenever she could was already a leap for me. That isn't something I would have ever considered with someone else. I've never been one to believe in long distance relationships. They don’t seem to have any point. But Scarlett changed that. For her, I would be willing to try it out. I expected her to be happy to go along with it. Yet, she seems to be pushing me away.

  It's frustrating, but at the same time, she makes sense. When I step back from the way she fills my mind, I know my life is already busy and complicated enough. Adding another inherently complex relationship doesn't fit in. I have too much to think about and do as it is. But it doesn't change the draw to her. And I know that draw won't go away any time soon. I pull a business card out of my wallet and hand it to her.

  "Just in case," I say.

  "The finishing touch," she says, but smiles. "You should go. You don't want to miss your plane."

  I nod. "Good luck with everything, Scarlett."

  "I don't need good luck. Where's the adventure in that?"

  We smile, and I duck my head for one more kiss. I whisper a last goodbye and head outside to where Beck is waiting for me in Jamie's truck. I had a long talk with the rental company yesterday to explain the car trapped out by the side of the road. They weren't happy with me until I offered a simple resolution.

  At least now, I own a car here for whenever I might make it back.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Scarlett

  April…

  Winter gave its last gasp about three weeks ago, and spring has finally really arrived in Shadow Creek. There's no more snow on the ground, and as I walk up the curving brick walkway to the newest house on my list, the beginnings of flowers are peeking up through the dirt in the beds on either side of the door.

  This house is somewhat of an unusual case. It's been sitting empty for quite some time, but the owner never wanted to sell. In fact, no one has been able to get in touch with the owner. That's how it ended up in my hands.

  There's a law in Shadow Creek, a throwback to the old days when people would essentially just throw down a shovel and say land belonged to them. People didn't flock to this area to find their opportunities quite like they did to the west, but the rich soil, beautiful land, and fresh air did draw families away from the creep of the growing cities. Like the west, though, not everybody made it. Some people would come with the highest hopes and best of intentions, only to find it too difficult or come up with another idea and wander off. This often left houses and plots of land abandoned, but technically belonging to people. To make sure the town didn't end up clogged with empty homes and overgrown properties, a law was drawn up to limit how long a house could go without being occupied.

  Property owners were given three years to either come back and occupy the house or sell it. If at the end of those three years neither of those things happened, it was considered abandoned and ownership was voided. The land and anything on it were turned over to the town to handle. The law is still technically on the books, but this is the only time I've seen it actually enforced. Trust me; I've tried. There have been several occasions I've strode up to Town Hall and asked about the claim on the McVey mansion. But it's never worked out the way I hoped. The official word has always been that the family maintained residency for the required amount of time in every three year period.

  It didn't seem to matter that no one had ever seen them during those supposed stretches.

  This house is almost as mysterious. It doesn't have the same spooky aura as the mansion on the hill but has been known around Shadow Creek for sitting empty and alone for as long as anybody can remember. The only times when it wasn't empty came right before the three-year deadline. Every three years, someone would show up and open up the house. For two weeks, lights would appear in the windows, and crews could be seen moving around the interior and exterior, performing repairs and tidying up. After the two weeks, it would fall silent and dark again.

  For the next three years, one of the neighbors would go by and mow the lawn or tidy up the flower beds. But no one would show up to claim the house. It's not completely unheard of for people to have vacation houses or investment properties that end up falling by the wayside and rarely getting used. So, the people of Shadow Creek for the most part don’t pry or even think anything completely strange about the house.

  That is, until this year. The last time anyone showed up to the house was three years ago, so people were expecting at their arrival this summer. I've heard whispers in town of people anticipating the mysterious spring visitor, and of wondering who they are and why they come so rarely. But they never arrived. We used to be able to anticipate their arrival down to the day, but that day passed. Then the next few days. Then a week. Two weeks went by, and a warning letter appeared on the front door, letting the owner know about the impending deadline. That seems fairly futile. They'd have to be there in order to receive the letter. But one of the clerks at the property office told me they also mail one out, just to be sure.

  Another letter came a week later. Then another three days after that. Finally, the deadline came. There's been a strange tension around the house over the last few days. Anticipating the deadline coming, I've driven by a few times, waiting. Any second. Any second, someone would show up and try to scoop it back out of the town's hands. But they never did.

  I got the call this morning that I can officially list it for sale and start selling it. There are a few other real estate agents scattered throughout the town, but none were interested in taking on this type of challenge. No one knows what's inside the house or the kind of condition it might be in. The fact that the name on the deed is a holding company also makes it strange. Not having a person to attach to it adds to the curiosity of the whole situation.

  "Scarlett?"

  I look away from peeling the letters off the door and over my shoulder to where Ashley Carrol is scurrying up the walkway toward me. She pulls the edges of a rose-colored cardigan tight around her to ward off the breeze that still holds lingering reminders of the winter.

  There are plenty of people around town who have already shucked all wardrobe that has any semblance of warmth and are prancing around in t-shirts and shorts, defying temperatures still most definitely within the outer layer zone. It's people like Ashley who appease the weather gods and stay bundled, so they don't topple the weather out of favor and bring back the snow and ice. I stick somewhere in the middle. My capri-length pants wantonly expose my ankles and lower calves, but I have a lightweight hooded sweatshirt about my person at all times.

/>   "Hi, Ashley," I say. "How's the new puppy?"

  "Doing well. He’s chewed every piece of furniture in the house, so you know. Persistent. Are you selling the house?" Her voice drops when she asks the question like she doesn't want the house to hear her talking about it.

  "Yes," I tell her. "It just got released to be put on the market. This is the first time I've come to look at it."

  She shivers, but I don't think it has anything to do with the house. "It's creepy, don't you think?" she asks.

  I glance at the house. "Not really. Strange, I guess. I just wonder what happened to the owners. Did you ever meet them any of the times they came?"

  "No. They always kept to themselves. I don't even know how many there were, or if it was men or women. They always showed up late and hunkered down in the house. Usually I didn't even know they were there yet until I saw the crews show up to do maintenance."

  "I know your husband came over here a few times and mowed the lawn and things. Why did he do that? Did someone ask him to?" I ask.

  "No. Brent just has this thing about lawns looking nice. He got it in his head he was being a good neighbor, even if he didn't know the person occasionally living there. Then it just became a habit. Like the yard over here was an extension of ours. He didn't want to look out the window and see the overgrown grass. Just between us, I think he's afraid of snakes making themselves at home in the grass if it gets too high."

  "That might be a legit fear," I shrug. "I can't believe no one knows the owners. None of the neighbors ever came over here to try to meet them?"

  That doesn't sound like Shadow Creek. What would be much more realistic would be a mob of women bearing cherry cobblers and casseroles swarming the porch at the first sign of life in the house.