Stranded with the Cowboy Billionaire

by Elana Johnson

  “Day eight,” Mason echoed back to her. She pulled the pan from the fire and divided the eggs in half.

  “This is the last of the eggs,” she said, passing him the plate.

  “I know,” he said. “We’ll have to start eating the fruit and oatmeal bars.”

  He’d brought a cooler made of the finest materials, said to keep anything cold for ten days, even in the sun. The cooler he’d brought still had ice in it, but they’d eaten almost all of the perishable items already. The lunchmeat, cheese, eggs, and fruit cups. The last item could technically still be eaten, whether cold or not.

  They still had a gallon of milk, and she was planning on eating cold cereal for a few days before succumbing to the oatmeal bars.

  “And there are a few fruit trees here,” he said.

  Ivy only nodded as she scooped up a forkful of eggs. She’d heard horrible stories from Iris about the amount of fruit she’d consumed on her deserted island. She hadn’t eaten fruit for many months after returning to Getaway Bay, and Ivy couldn’t say she blamed her. Especially not now.

  “Do you want to make a water run this morning?” he asked.

  “Yeah, sure. I need to do some wash, and we can refill the bottles.”

  He nodded, and the silence between them settled comfortably. He didn’t talk much, but Ivy had learned she didn’t need him to. They’d been out on the island for sixteen full days now, and that was akin to dating a man for several months for Ivy.

  And she still liked Mason a whole lot. There hadn’t been any funny business in the cabin where they slept, unless she counted listening to him talk in his sleep. He also teased her about some nightmare she could never remember.

  “Do you want a dog?” she asked, just to have something to talk about. She’d always wanted a day or two to just lie on the beach, but now that she’d had many, many of those, she realized she did like being busy.

  “I’ve had several dogs over the years,” he said.

  “Do you own a dog right now?”

  “Nope.” He finished his breakfast and stretched his legs out in front of him. “My last two dogs were Smoky and Georgia. I left them on the ranch in Texas. They survived the tornado.”

  “Whoa, what? Tornado?”

  “Yeah,” he said, chuckling. “Haven’t I told you this?” He rubbed his hands down his face, stroking his beard. He was quite sexy with the facial hair, and Ivy really liked it.

  “No, sirree,” she said in her best cowgirl twang. “I’ve heard nothing about a tornado. Wait. You did say you get them in the panhandle of Texas. I guess I just didn’t realize you’d been in one so recently.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t,” he said. “I put the ranch up for sale, but I didn’t wait for it to sell before I moved to Getaway Bay.” He exhaled as he leaned back, his eyes closed and his face toward the sky. He was absolutely beautiful when relaxed as he was, and Ivy’s cells warmed.

  “Anyway, the ranch sold, and literally a few days after closing, there was a big tornado in Three Rivers. I heard it caused quite a bit of damage. But a neighbor down the road had the dogs, and everyone survived.”

  “Wow,” Ivy said. “And the new ranch owners didn’t get upset?”

  “I haven’t heard from them,” he said. “A bunch of brothers bought the place. I wasn’t there. I never met them.”

  A squirrel of unrest moved through her. “I don’t own my own house.” The words tasted bitter coming out of her mouth, but he should probably know.

  “No? Where do you live on the island?”

  “I’m close to downtown,” she said. “I have a little cottage almost on the beach. I used to share with my twin, until she got married.” That instant sadness hit her again, but she pushed it away. Doing so had become easier and easier the longer she went without talking to Iris, and she supposed she should be happy about that.

  She stacked her plate on top of Mason’s and lay down beside him.

  “In the Twin Palms?”

  “Yeah,” she said, twisting to look at him. “You know it?”

  “My real estate agent took me there when I first came to the island. But I bought a place in the new apartment buildings a little further east.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “The ritzy places, for rich people. Did you know they have a concierge there?”

  Mason burst out laughing, his hand slipping into hers. “Ivy,” he said once he’d sobered. “I sure do like you.”

  “I like you too, Mason.”

  “This isn’t terrible, is it?”

  “It’s…a little different than I was expecting.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, me too.”

  They fell into silence after that, and eventually Ivy cleaned up their breakfast dishes and started packing empty bottles into her backpack. In an empty supply box, she loaded her clothes. At least they had something to do today, so they wouldn’t just sit around and watch the waves.

  They’d done plenty of that yesterday, when they’d expected a SEAL submarine to show up, sirens blaring.

  Doing laundry and refilling water bottles at the spring took them to lunchtime. Mason made grilled cheese sandwiches with the last of their bread and cheese, and Ivy wasted some time in the afternoon by walking along the beach, her hand secured in Mason’s.

  Late afternoon did find them sitting on the log, watching the water for a ship Ivy knew wouldn’t be coming that day.

  “Ready?” Mason asked as the sky turned red and orange and gold, the sun setting behind the island.

  “Yeah.” She sighed as she got up, and Mason took her into his arms. She tried to suck back the tears, but her chest shook with the effort. “I’m okay,” she said, though her voice was much too high and gave away all of her emotions.

  “I know you are,” he said. “Ivy, you’re incredible. Just amazing. I’m sorry the ship didn’t come today.”

  “Maybe tomorrow,” she said, and he nodded. He took her face in his hands and looked at her, those dark eyes full of so much adoration. More than she’d ever seen, even in the eyes of Brooks, who she’d thought would ask her to marry him.

  Of course, she’d been dead wrong about that. She could be dead wrong about this too.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Mason echoed, and then he held her hand with his left one, keeping his right out of the saltwater, and guided them back to the yacht for another night’s rest.

  Ivy woke in the middle of the night, the spot where Mason slept next to her empty and cold. He was gone again.

  Her adrenaline spiked, and she sat up suddenly. Pure darkness covered everything in the cabin, and she scrambled to switch on the lamp on the bedside table. Maybe he’d just gone to get a drink. Gone to the bathroom. Make a midnight bowl of oatmeal—though why he’d do that eluded her.

  She didn’t find him in the bathroom or the kitchen, and she paused on the threshold of stepping out of the areas down-below and going out into the open air of the night. It wasn’t cold, but a shiver worked its way through her anyway, and she rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

  She wore her pajamas—a pair of cotton shorts with a tank top—which didn’t seem adequate to be roaming around a yacht. A noise above her cause a yelp to come out of her mouth, and she backed into the dining room table, the backs of her knees hitting the bench and making her fall into a sitting position.

  Sucking in a breath, she managed to contain the scream. A moment later, Mason appeared.

  “Where have you been?” she asked, her heart hammering out of control.

  He flinched and froze, alarm crossing his face too. He searched the darkness for her, his eyes finally meeting hers. “The bridge.”

  “You’re still working on that radio?” She stood up and crossed the space between them. After examining his hands, she looked into those eyes she liked so much. “No wonder you sleep so late. How long have you been up?”

  “Hours,” he admitted. “I usually slip away as soon as I know you’re asleep.”

  “So I’m down there by myself?” She cast a long look
over her shoulder, as if there would be a demon hovering there, ready to drag her down to a watery grave.

  Mason just nodded. “I can’t get it to work, though there’s electricity coming in.”

  “I told you, someone will come.”

  “What if they don’t, Ivy?” he challenged. “Then what?”

  “Then we row north,” she barked.

  Mason shook his head. “I don’t want to argue. I’m tired.” He stepped past her as if he’d leave her standing there on the cusp of being exposed, alone. She hurried after him, her anger growing with each silent second between them.

  “Mason,” she said once they’d entered the cabin. “I don’t think you should waste your time and energy with that radio.”

  He pulled his T-shirt over his head and got in bed, turning away from her. “I can’t just give up.”

  “It’s not giving up.”

  “I don’t quit.”

  “It’s not quitting.” She sat on her side of the bed, her back to him too. “It’s called being smart. Spending time and resources on the right things.”

  “And what are those, Ivy? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not busy out here. Who cares if I spend a few hours working on the radio?”

  “Why couldn’t you tell me about it then?”

  “Because I knew you’d react this way.” He sounded so tired, and Ivy didn’t want to argue with him either.

  “I don’t want to be down here by myself.”

  “Fair enough,” he said. “I apologize for that.”

  She lay down and turned toward him, slipping her hand onto his shoulder. “We’re going to be fine, Mason.”

  “I know that, Ivy.”

  Still, she felt like he had more to say. When he didn’t vocalize it, she took a chance. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Another lengthy silence followed. So long, Ivy thought Mason had fallen asleep. Finally, he said. “I’m not sure I’m cut out to live in Hawaii, Ivy.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mason listened to Ivy suck in a breath.

  “But I live in Hawaii,” she said.

  Yes, she did. And he didn’t know what to say to her. He’d known he wasn’t supposed to be in Texas. But was he supposed to be here?

  “I felt so good about this island adventure,” he said, his voice sounding loud in the silence. “And it’s been a complete disaster.”

  “Complete?” she asked, her hand slipping away from his shoulder.

  “We’re stuck out here,” he whispered. “No one’s coming.”

  “We’ve talked about this,” she said. “We’re two hours from the mainland. We have food.”

  “We’re two hours by yacht,” he said. “With a motor. I can’t row us back there in one hundred and twenty minutes.” He didn’t mean to sound so angry. He wasn’t mad at her. Only himself.

  “I don’t know what I’m doing with my life,” he whispered, his eyes open but unseeing. It was so dark on the yacht. So dark out here in the middle of the ocean.

  “Do you want another ranch?” she asked. “I think there’s a macadamia nut farm for sale. You could do that. I’m great with keeping books.”

  She was thinking long-term with him, and Mason smiled. “I don’t know, Ivy. I feel lost, out here on this island. And not just physically. I….” He didn’t want to admit anything to her, but if not her, then who?

  The little old lady who lived next door and walked her two white dogs three times a day just to have something to do? Drake Summers, who worked on the cattle ranch and just wanted Mason’s extra set of hands?

  “I thought if I came out here, I could figure things out.”

  A blip of silence passed. Then Ivy asked, “Why did you advertise to find a girlfriend then?”

  “I didn’t want to be alone.”

  Ivy’s hand touched his, and he lifted his arm so she could slide into his side. She did, and a sense of relief pulled through him. “See? I’m not the only one who doesn’t like to be alone.”

  He chuckled, the sound so foreign among all the darkness. “I think if we ever come to this island again, we should only plan to stay for the day.”

  “Did you ever sleep on it when you were building the cabin?”

  “No,” he said. “It kinda scared me.”

  “You?” she teased. “You’re a rough, tough, muscley cowboy.”

  “Muscley?”

  “Well, you have big muscles.” She giggled into his side, sobering quickly. “You’re not really going to leave Getaway Bay, are you?”

  “I doubt it,” he said. “I just want to get off this island so badly. I don’t want you to…be upset with me.”

  “I’m not upset with you.” She’d reassured him of similar things several times since the storm, but Mason felt like one giant failure.

  He pressed his lips to the top of her head and closed his eyes. In his mind, he could see the wires underneath the console on the bridge. If he could just find the right ones….

  When he woke, he was alone, and he wondered how that was fair. Ivy didn’t like being alone when she woke up, but she left him snoozing on the yacht every morning. She claimed to have developed an early-rising habit when she became a gym rat, going to workout every morning at five-thirty, rain or shine.

  He’d asked her if it ever really rained in Hawaii, and she’d laughed. “Lots of rain,” she said. “We’re tropical.”

  And of course, now that he’d lived through a tropical storm, he definitely knew it rained—a lot.

  He got up and got dressed, made the bed, and waded ashore. Ivy wasn’t near the fire, though it smoked, so she’d definitely been there. “Ivy?” he called, glancing down the beach. She didn’t come out from the trees, and he moved to pick up a water bottle, only a blip of concern running through him.

  There were no animals on the island. Nowhere to go. Wherever she’d gone and whatever she was doing, she’d be back. “But she hates to go out to the spring alone,” he mused. The only thing Ivy did alone was go to the bathroom. And change her clothes. Other than that, she stayed by Mason’s side, or he stuck by hers.

  They did everything together, and Mason had once thought he wouldn’t like that. Anne-Marie had nearly smothered him, but Ivy was so unlike her. She didn’t try to change Mason. Make him wear shirts that scratched just so he’d look “more polished.”

  Anne-Marie had often bought his boots so he’d stand out. She tried to get him to look and play a part, and while he’d been miserable when she’d given back the ugly ring he’d bought her, he didn’t miss her.

  He thought he’d miss Ivy.

  “Mason,” she said, the word an explosion of breath from her mouth. He spun toward her to find her stumbling under the weight of several palm fronds. She was panting, and she dropped the load she carried as soon as their eyes met.

  “Go put the flag up. There’s a ship.”

  “Really?” His heart boomed in his chest, huge gonging sounds that sent reverberations through his muscles. “Where?”

  “It went around that side,” she said, pointing to the cliffs. “It can’t see us. We need to make smoke and get them to come back.”

  “What if—?”

  “If you put up the flag, maybe they’ll see it above the cliffs.” She sucked at the air as she bent down. “Hurry.”

  He didn’t think raising the flag on the yacht would help at all. And the mechanism to do it was powered by electricity, and who knew if that would work? It didn’t work for the radio.

  “The smoke should get them back,” he said, looking into the trees. “Should I run to the other side of the island? Maybe I’ll see them over there.”

  “I don’t know,” Ivy said, blowing on the fire. Her voice bordered on hysterical. “We have to get them to come back. I can’t believe they didn’t see me or the island.”

  “How far away were they?” he asked, taking a couple of steps to her and touching her shoulder. “Calm down. Take it easy. You’re going to inhale that smoke and fall head-first into th
e fire.”

  She looked at him, a wildness in her eyes. Scraping her hair out of her face, she breathed. “They were still quite a ways out.”

  “Did it look like a rescue ship?”

  “I couldn’t tell.”

  So maybe it wasn’t. Could be someone out yachting for the day. Which doesn’t matter, he told himself. If he could get them to come to the island, he and Ivy could get back to civilization.

  “I’m going to go to the other side of the island,” he said, making a quick decision. “You’re okay here by yourself?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, though she looked like she might cry. “Yes, I’ll be fine.”

  Mason took a moment to kiss her fiercely, and then he jogged into the trees. His mind sprinted faster than his legs, but he was able to seize onto one thought—get a frond. If he could do that, then he could wave it, making himself bigger, brighter.

  The island had never seemed that big to him before—until he was trying to run across it before a rescue vessel left sight of the island. He wasn’t sure how long he ran, only that his legs and lungs ached and he was covered in sweat by the time he saw water in front of him.

  Relief propelled him to take a few more strides, and then a few more. He broke through the trees, and there, on the horizon, sat a ship.

  “Hey!” he yelled, waving his arms above his head. The ship was definitely a yacht, not a rescue boat, but he hardly cared. They needed help, and he would take it in any form that had a motor.

  Frantic now, he stepped over to the nearest palm tree and ripped off the biggest branch he could. He waved it back and forth, his biceps screaming at him to stop. With all the running and now the waving, they weren’t terribly happy.

  He didn’t care. He walked awkwardly down the beach, waving and yelling, until his feet hit the water. And still he kept going. Maybe he and Ivy should’ve stomped out the word HELP in the sand. Or had a fire on both sides of the island. He hadn’t even thought of doing so, because the side where he’d built the cabin and they’d been camping faced north—faced Getaway Bay.