Stranded with the Cowboy Billionaire

by Elana Johnson

  “I’ll make sandwiches,” she said as she passed Mason. He’d taken up residence on a spot on the beach and sat staring out at the water. She put together turkey and Swiss sandwiches just like he had that first night on the island.

  She got a fire started. She put the kettle on it to make coffee. She collected twigs and dragged the branches closer to the firepit. Every so often, she’d cast a glance at Mason, and he never so much as moved. Other than to eat, which he probably did without knowing it.

  Once the coffee finished brewing, she returned to Mason’s side. “Hey,” she said gently. She’d seen people in shock before. Her sister, for one, when her husband’s yacht had sunk. They’d never recovered his body.

  “Come sit by the fire,” she said. “Have some coffee.”

  Mason turned his head toward her, blinking as if he was realizing for the first time that he wasn’t alone on Long Bar Island.

  She offered him a smile, hoping he would snap out of whatever funk he’d fallen into. “Come on,” she said, threading her fingers through his. He squeezed back, his eyes so dark underneath that cowboy hat.

  He got up and followed her over to the fire. She poured him a cup of coffee and he curled his hands around the mug as if he were cold. “I’m sorry, Ivy,” he said.

  “Why?” she asked. “Because you can’t control the weather?” She sat beside him on the log and sipped her coffee. “Maybe because this isn’t hot chocolate.”

  Mason started to chuckle. The laughter grew and grew, and pride filled Ivy that she’d been able to affect him so strongly.

  “I didn’t get the memo about the hot chocolate,” he said.

  She leaned her head against his shoulder, and he lifted his arm around her. She snuggled into his side and said, “Next time.”

  Chapter Eight

  Oh, there would be no next time. Mason couldn’t believe he’d thought coming out here with a woman was a good idea. Of course, five hours ago, everything had been peaches and cream. Bright sun. Hot sand. Beautiful woman.

  There weren’t supposed to be any storms.

  “What about our cell phones?” he asked, thoughts forming in his mind again. He’d lost himself for a while there. He wasn’t even sure how long, only that he didn’t remember Ivy building a fire or making coffee. He felt like he should be hungry, but he wasn’t. She’d probably fed him, and he didn’t even know it.

  “We left them on the yacht,” she said. “Remember? We agreed only to check in with our families once a week.”

  “Right,” he said. “But things have changed.” He stood up, ready to wade back into the water and get his phone. Call everyone he knew until he got word that a ship was on the way to rescue them.

  “Mase,” she said, and that made Mason freeze. He turned back to her, his heart thumping inside his chest. Only one person called him Mase, and that had been Anne-Marie, his ex-fiancée.

  Ivy got up and walked toward him, nowhere near the same as Anne-Marie. She wasn’t from Texas, for one. She was much kinder, for another. And while she was definitely frustrated with him, she wore a smile on her face.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, putting her hands on his shoulders. “Because you seem a little out of it.”

  “I’m…I was out of it for a minute,” he said.

  “Yeah.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “What did you eat for lunch?”

  “I have no idea.” Embarrassment heated his face. “I think I slipped into some shock there.”

  “You sure did,” she said. “So let’s go slow, okay? If you want to go out to the yacht to check our phones, let’s go.” She continued out into the water, and Mason followed her. Getting back on the yacht was easy but seeing all the damage wasn’t.

  His heart hurt, as he’d loved this yacht. Loved sailing around Getaway Bay, just himself and all that water. The ocean breeze. Whatever soda he’d wanted that day.

  “The phones aren’t here,” Ivy said, once again jolting him out of his own mind. He turned toward the kitchen, where they’d both left their phones in the top drawer near the refrigerator.

  He joined her. “They have to be here.”

  “They’re not.” She pointed to the drawer.

  “Was the drawer open?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  Mason looked down to the ground, expecting to see the devices there. But there was nothing but dirty water. Frustration filled Mason from top to bottom as Ivy pulled open another drawer.

  “They have to be here,” he said. Did cell phones just float away? Surely they’d sink.

  “Here’s mine,” she said, pulling it out from underneath the dripping rug he kept in front of the tiny sink. Water dripped from the corner of the phone, and Mason’s heart sank.

  “No way that will work.”

  She pushed buttons and held them down. “Nope. Nothing.” Their eyes met, and time stilled for Mason.

  “The radio was out,” he whispered.

  “People will come when we don’t check in,” she said. “They know where we are.”

  “We checked in yesterday,” Mason said.

  “It’s six days,” Ivy said as he left the kitchen. “Iris will send the Navy SEALs when I don’t call her.”

  Mason believed Ivy, and they did have food. He liked Ivy, and a sense of calmness started to come over him, replacing the numbness and the panic.

  “Okay,” she said, pulling in a big breath after that. “We should—oh, look. There’s your phone.”

  Mason turned as she plucked it from between the tines on the burner. A twangy melody filled the air, and Mason’s heart took courage.

  “It’s turning on,” Ivy said, her voice full of excitement. She handed him the phone, and Mason watched as it powered up. “Do you have service?”

  “It’s coming,” he said.

  “We can call.” She grabbed onto his arm with both hands and laughed.

  Mason lifted his eyes to hers, and everything around him fell away. “Thank you for…not freaking out,” he said, reaching up to push her hair off her face.

  In fact, he’d been the one who’d freaked out, while she’d been steady and calm in the face of the storm.

  They’d survived. They had food and water and solid ground to stay on. They would be okay.

  Ivy smiled up at him, cradling his face in one palm. She gazed at him with all the things he wanted to see in a woman’s eyes, and his nerves went wild. His phone beeped, and he used that as a distraction.

  He wanted to kiss Ivy. Badly. But he’d known her for such a short time, and he hadn’t had a relationship in so long, and he wasn’t sure if how he felt was real.

  Feels real, he thought as he swiped and tapped. Ivy had checked in with her sisters for the past couple of weeks, but Mason had simply gone to his private bedroom and checked his email.

  But no one really emailed him anymore. He could’ve called his brothers, but he hadn’t. He had a couple of friends on the island, but no one he’d call once a week to discuss his love life or how things were going on the island.

  He called Drake Summers, a man who lived down the road from him and worked out at the cattle ranch on the island. He’d tried to get Mason to take a job, but Mason hadn’t wanted to jump into another ranch.

  Texas held a special place in his heart, but Mason just needed a break.

  The phone rang once, twice, three times, and then something crackled and sparked. He dropped his phone as fire touched his hand, and Ivy yelped as she jumped back.

  The phone smoked, and the silence on the yacht meant the call had definitely disconnected.

  Mason took a deep breath and walked away.

  “Mason,” Ivy called after him.

  “I’m going to try the radio again,” he said, leaving the dining area in favor of the sunshine. He went around to the bridge, though he’d been up here…well, he wasn’t sure how long ago. Hours maybe.

  Everything looked the same, and he flipped switches and turned knobs to no avail. Literally nothing happened, and Maso
n leaned both elbows against the counter and held his head in his hands.

  When he heard footsteps, he straightened and pulled himself together. “Let’s head back,” he said to Ivy with a smile.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked.

  “I’m fine.” He slipped his hand into hers and squeezed. “Let’s go see what food and water we have, so we can ration.”

  “I don’t think we need to ration,” Ivy said. “Like I said, when I don’t call Iris, she’ll send out her husband’s friends.”

  Mason nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I still want to take an inventory.” They waded back to the island, and Mason started cleaning up. Ivy dug in and got to work too, and soon enough, they had everything in piles. Branches. Palm fronds. Debris.

  The food and water waited in the cabin that now had no roof, and Mason’s head hurt. “Okay,” he said. “We can do this. We’ll still be able to sleep in the cabin, and we have enough water for the full three months.”

  “We’re going to be fine.” Ivy pulled her ponytail out and put it in again, tighter this time. Mason smiled at her, but he didn’t believe her.

  Six days until she should be checking in with her sister. If she didn’t, how long would it take for Iris to get the SEALs deployed?

  Maybe a day.

  And Long Bar Island was only a couple of hours from Getaway Bay.

  So eight days.

  They definitely had enough food and water for eight days, and he returned his attention to Ivy. His thoughts wandered down the romantic path, and he dropped his eyes to her lips.

  Clearing his throat, he quickly looked away again. “Let’s get back to the island.”

  That night, Mason lay on the sand, feeling exposed and alone. Ivy slept cuddled into him, and he tightened his hand on her arm, glad she could still tolerate him. He knew he was a bit prickly, especially if things didn’t go his way.

  He couldn’t sleep though he was beyond exhausted. He prided himself on thinking of everything, right down to the last detail, and it bothered him that he hadn’t anticipated a storm. Well, he had—he knew Hawaii had tropical storms and hurricanes—but there hadn’t been anything in the forecast, and they’d only been on the island for a week.

  He didn’t like sleeping beneath such a huge sky, though he’d been born and raised in Texas, where everything was bigger than life itself. He’d never had a problem being alone on the ranch. Never minded being out on the range, without a roof over his head. Heaven knew he’d spent plenty of nights keeping his cows safe and eating out of a can.

  He could definitely survive this. A twinge of guilt stole through him that Ivy had to, though, as that hadn’t been part of the deal.

  Still, she’d come, and she’d lived on the island of Getaway Bay her whole life. She knew the weather couldn’t be controlled. She, probably better than anyone else, as all of her sisters had suffered mishaps because of inclement weather.

  With those thoughts in his head, he pressed his lips to her forehead and closed his eyes. Sleep finally came.

  When he woke, it felt like he had just dozed off. But the sun shone brightly above the horizon, and Ivy said, “Good morning, cowboy,” in her sexy, flirty voice.

  She lifted her head from his embrace, a smile on those lips. Mason didn’t hesitate this time. He cradled her face with one hand and brought his mouth to hers in a sweet kiss that made his head spin.

  For a moment, he thought she’d push him away. Slap him back. Tell him it was too soon, that she barely knew him, that he had no right.

  But she didn’t do any of those things.

  She melted right into his touch and kissed him back. Tingles erupted along his scalp as she dragged her fingers through his hair, and Mason couldn’t believe this was happening.

  He’d kissed other women before, of course. But no one for a while, and Anne-Marie had never kissed him with this level of enthusiasm.

  Ivy finally pulled away, leaving Mason hungry for more. Instead, he pressed his lips together, tasting her there, and smiled. She giggled, the sound driving right into his heart. She rolled away from him with, “Coffee?”

  “Yes,” he called after her, rolling to watch her walk away from him. He honestly hadn’t been sure about her the first time he’d seen her, bent over that suitcase and muttering about the clothes she could or couldn’t bring.

  She’d been slightly cold toward him, and he hadn’t known how to talk to her. But he did now, and it had only been a week.

  He sat up and watched the golden light as it played with the tips of the waves. Such a serene scene calmed him, and he couldn’t believe that just twenty-four hours ago, everything had changed.

  Ivy returned with a bottle of water and a cup of coffee and sat in the sand beside him. She sighed and said, “So what do you think? Are we making a love connection?”

  Chapter Nine

  Ivy liked flirting with a handsome man, and she was very good at it. Mason was so different from any of the men she’d dated before. He wore a cowboy hat for one, and though he had plenty of money, like some of the other men she’d dated, he was completely different from anyone on the island.

  It was almost like he didn’t know he had money. But seriously, who was retired at age thirty-five?

  “Um,” he said.

  She laughed, tipping her head back and letting the sound flow from her throat. “I’m teasing, Mason,” she said. “Does anyone call you Mase?”

  “Uh, only one person ever has,” he said.

  “The girlfriend.”

  “I asked her to marry me,” Mason said. “That makes her a fiancée.”

  Ivy gazed out over the waves, wishing she could call Iris right now. She’d thought the missing would go away after a few days, but it only seemed to intensify. “I’ve never been engaged,” she said.

  “It’s not all that exciting,” he said. “At least for me, it wasn’t.”

  “No?” Ivy looked at him, trying to see something he hadn’t said. If there was anything the last eight days had taught her, it was that Mason Martin didn’t waste words. If he had something to say, he said it. “If it wasn’t exciting, I don’t think you did it right.”

  “Are you saying I botched the proposal?”

  “I have no idea,” she said, enjoying this game. “Tell me how it went down.”

  “Oh, it’s a boring story.”

  “Definitely did it wrong then.”

  “I took her to buy the ring herself. Anne-Marie was…quite particular,” he said, his voice slipping down a little bit. “She loved the sound of her own voice, and she was extremely intelligent.”

  Ivy didn’t know what to say to that. Mason wasn’t a big talker, and she’d carried the conversation for days. But not because she loved the sound of her own voice. “You didn’t say how you proposed.”

  “Yes, I did. I took her to buy the ring.” Mason looked at her, and Ivy searched his face. “I can tell that would not be good enough for you.”

  Ivy shook her head, trying to hold her smile back. “I mean, I’d be fine.”

  “Liar.” Mason started laughing, and he slipped one hand into hers and lifted his coffee to his lips with the other. He hadn’t even swallowed yet when he spit it out.

  Ivy moved away from him as he wiped his mouth. “Not good?” Ivy wasn’t terribly good at a lot of things, but she prided herself on making coffee. And she’d done it before here on the island.

  “It tastes like the ocean.” He extended the cup to her. “Taste it.”

  “I don’t want to taste it.”

  “You didn’t have any?”

  She regarded him, a flirty feeling moving through her. “That kiss already had my heart pumping a little too hard.”

  Surprise crossed Mason’s face. “Is that right?” He set his coffee cup on the sand. “I think the waves must’ve washed over our coffee supply.”

  “It’s going to be a long six days until I call Iris then,” she said coolly, though she’d seen that edged, desire-filled look currently
in Mason’s eyes on other men’s faces. She reached up and pulled her hair out of the sandy ponytail she’d slept in. Working her fingers through her hair, she managed to get some of the sand out.

  “Why’s that?” Mason asked, his voice a little strained.

  “Because you’re kind of a beast without your coffee,” she said, leaning in close and touching her lips to his. She wasn’t sure how long ago the engagement had ended, but it didn’t matter. Mason knew right where to put his hands, and exactly how to kiss her like she’d never kissed a man before.

  She sighed and leaned into his chest, both of them facing the water again. “Maybe you’ll have to kiss me every morning instead,” he said.

  “Maybe.”

  They sat together for several minutes, until finally Mason stood up. “Okay,” he said with a sigh. “Let’s get things a little more cleaned up. We can bring the furniture out to dry. Go through the food and see what else was infused with saltwater.”

  Ivy didn’t want to do any of that, but Mason wouldn’t play cards with her anymore. She wanted to spend more time with him, so she stood up and brushed the sand from her shorts. “All right, but I’m warning you. I’m not very strong.”

  “You can hold the door,” he said with a grin.

  Ivy ended up doing that while Mason pulled the furniture from the cabin. He’d brought a broom, and she swept out the interior of the building while he fed partially wet fronds and leaves to the fire.

  He scrambled eggs and pulled out already cooked ham and heated it. They paused to eat, and then he said, “Anything in a plastic package or a can seems to be okay.” He surveyed the food he’d put on the dining room table that had saved them from the rain and falling debris during the storm.

  Ivy picked up the open bag of coffee she’d pulled from that morning. “But not this.” She lifted it to her nose, and it still certainly smelled like coffee. Fine, there was a definite hint of wetness and salt.