And Then He: A Rogue Mountain Billionaire Novel

by Kateri Collins

  It takes me two pumps of my heart and the caw of a crow to realize he asked me a question. “Just out for a run. What are you doing out here?”

  The crow heckles a reply. I scowl at the flying nuisance, silently cursing it for disturbing our conversation.

  “Trying to get back in shape. I haven’t run for a few weeks and must have,” he pauses to catch his breath, “over done it.”

  His shirt molds over well-shaped abs—abs I remember all too well from the reunion and my reoccurring fantasies. Short running shorts emphasize excellent examples of tan, bulging quads.

  Clearly, our definitions of out of shape are quite different.

  “Do you run this trail often?” He asks.

  It takes everything in my power not to laugh. I doubt the cliché pickup line has ever been used in such a wild location, miles away from civilization. “Almost every day,” I manage to reply. “Fischer and I run anywhere from five to ten miles depending on my mood.”

  His eyes glance down. “I assume this is Fischer?” He smiles at me before reaching his open palm in front of Fischer’s nose. Fischer backs up and bares his teeth.

  “Fischer,” I say, “that’s not nice.”

  Fischer’s big brown eyes open wide. His head droops a bit to prove he’s upset he disappointed me, but in less than thirty-seconds, he returns to growling at Jeb.

  I shrug. “Sorry, I don’t know what his problem is. He’s usually a big marshmallow.”

  On cue, Fischer growls louder as if to prove he is anything but a marshmallow.

  Jeb eyes Fischer with the wariness he would give a mountain lion ready to spring. He steps back. “Maybe he mistakes my heavy breathing for a stalker.”

  An awkward silence follows as my fearless protector voices his opinion on Jeb Rolles. “Well, enjoy the rest of your run,” I say as I tug Fischer’s collar. Fischer refuses to budge, as if to prove to Jeb who has the upper hand in our relationship. I shrug again at Jeb. My face pinches in apology. “See you around.”

  “Definitely,” he murmurs before taking off up the trail that I just came down. It’s a steep uphill, but he makes it look like he’s running a flat city street. My eyes have a mind of their own as they focus on his tight butt. His calves bulge with every stride until he disappears out of sight.

  With my mouth watering, I watch the mountainside awaiting for his return. After a minute or two, Fischer pulls me in the opposite direction. He knows exactly who has the upper hand in our relationship.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jeb kneels down in front of me. His long sure fingers reach up my dress and pull down my red lace panties. A shocked gasp escapes from my lips as my panties fall to the floor. His hands press against my inner thighs. The sensation of his touch sends sweet tingles up and down my spine. My legs part for him unable to resist his silent order. The black of his pupils extinguishes all evidence of amber. The tip of his tongue drags across his lips leaving a trail of wetness. I bite mine in response. A sense of urgency rifles through me. Heat erupts from my engorged folds. He hasn’t even touched me yet and I’m ready. His fingers travel up my legs reaching for my wetness, and then he…

  A light turns on.

  My eyes wince at the sudden onslaught of all-seeing, unforgiving brightness.

  “Tiffani?” Drew says.

  I crack an eyelid to peek at him standing in the bedroom doorway still wearing his Lumber Riders baseball uniform with the wide strap of his duffle bag slung across his right shoulder. Fischer’s oversized paws climb up his chest as Fischer thrusts his muzzle upward. His soft, insistent whimpers fill the room.

  Drew scratches the top of his head before bending down and offering his chin. Happy to oblige, Fischer covers him with kisses.

  “I thought you were away all week,” I yawn. My bare ass feels cool against the sheets. My underwear is around my ankles. I pretend to stretch so I can pull one leg out of my panties and then the other.

  “A team in Rochester cancelled, so the bus left right after the game. I thought I’d surprise you.”

  He lifts the duffle bag off his shoulder and drops it to the floor. Orange pitcher mound dirt billows into the air. The green and yellow Lumber Riders jersey and grass stained baseball pants soon follow. His sliding shorts cling to his muscular legs and ass. My eyes devour this fine specimen of a man. It’s been too long. I moan as I bite my lip. He raises an eyebrow, as he slips his thumbs into the top seam of his sliding shorts. The movement draws my attention to his seductive man-line. I allow the quilt to fall off my shoulders revealing my sexy leopard print nightie.

  I lower my eyelids. I enjoy this act of foreplay. I want him to take his time with his final piece of clothing. Tease me with the ass I love to grip. Torment me, until I beg him to rip off his clothes, but instead, he yanks down his shorts in a rather abrupt and unpoetic motion.

  I can’t help but roll my eyes. For once, I wish Drew would participate in the fine art of seduction, but fast and furious is his only style. The sight of his tight ass consoles me somewhat as he turns off the light.

  The springs of the mattress creak as he climbs into bed. “Ready?”

  Without a response from me, he reaches between my legs. Not a single tingle travels up or down my spine from his touch. “Looks like someone’s missed me,” he whispers into my neck as his finger enters me.

  How he flatters himself.

  If he only knew.

  Naked in bed, my legs sprawled across Drew, I dial Cassie. After fifteen years of friendship, I know exactly how our conversation will go—a bout of expletives followed by forgiveness. In the morning, we claw each other’s eyes out, hurl every form of bitch at one another, only to hug and kiss by lunchtime. It’s what we do.

  “I’m really sorry Cass, but Drew’s in town this weekend,” I say. Cassie appreciates direct and to the point, but that doesn’t mean she’s not pissed. I pull the phone from my ear and wince, anticipating the screaming that is sure to pierce an eardrum.

  “That’s f’ing bullshit, Tiff! What kind of dick move is that? I’m supposed to fly in tonight!” Drew’s face scrunches up next to me as he receives the aftershocks of the initial tell-off.

  When the noise stops, I bring the phone back to my ear. “I know, please don’t be mad,” I beg, hoping to soften her hackles before delivering the low-blow guilt trip. “I haven’t seen him for weeks. Can’t you fly in next weekend instead? He leaves Sunday for a four-week road trip.”

  Silence. I hear her take a heavy inhalation, and I know the fight is over. “You’re lucky I’m a sexy flight attendant. I’d kick your ass if I had to pay for a flight and you ditched me for a piece of ass.”

  I smile. “I love you, you know that right?”

  Drew bites the tip of my nipple. “Ahhh!” I scream into the receiver as a surge of electricity overtakes me.

  “Are you fucking him right now?”

  “Noooo,” I laugh until Drew shoves a finger between my legs. I bite back a moan, as I feel myself clench around him. He’s not usually so frisky in the morning. I like it.

  “You are soooo fucking him. Next weekend or I kick your ass,” she says and the phone goes dead.

  I reach over Drew to set the phone on the nightstand. He takes the opportunity to fondle my bare breasts with one hand, while his other moves in and out of me in a pleasant rhythm. “Will Cassie forgive you?” He asks, his voice muffled between my dangling boobs.

  I kiss the top of his head. “Spending time with you is a rare treat nowadays.”

  He halts his breast play to look up at me, his blue eyes full and round and safe. “I know it is, and you’ve been so great about it. I’ll make it up to you and then breakfast.”

  I press my hips against his hand, sending happy little shock pulses through my body. As I move my hips again, he sucks on my nipple. I moan, then bite my lip to compose myself just enough to tease back. “It’s more like lunch, and we can’t go out or Walter might see us—I’ll be busted for skipping work.”

  “I hate
you working at the friggin’ diner. Walter is such an asshole. When the Big Guys call me to the Show, things are going to change,” he says. His free hand travels down my waist to my hips. “And I missed our first date anniversary, too. I’ll go out later and get you a rootbeer float.”

  I laugh moan at the same time. I love that he remembers the tradition he started so many years ago. He may not be the most romantic person in the world, but he’s around when it counts. That’s why I love him so much.

  “Maybe we’ll just stay in,” I whisper into his neck. I inhale, savoring his crisp, clean, cool wave scent. “I can think of a few ways to occupy our time.”

  “I like the way you think,” he murmurs. He hooks my left leg around him. I reach my hands around his head and feel the short nubs of his crew cut. For just a second, I imagine what it might be like to run my fingers through long brown hair.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I take the sleeve of my shirt and swipe it across the dirty mirror on my locker door. When I can finally make out a blurry image of myself, I check my neck. From the looks of it, heavy foundation and powder does a pretty good job covering the love bite Drew gave me yesterday. I smooth my uniform down over my hips. The movement brings back memories of the weekend and the way it felt to have Drew’s hands all over my body. I add some lip gloss to my chapped lips and smile at my reflection. My cheeks have a happy rosy glow to them—the side effects of lots of sex and five o’clock shadow burn.

  I can’t believe I thought my feelings for Drew were disappearing. After spending the last thirty-six hours with him in bed, I am right back in love with him, glove, bat, and baseball. The area just below my stomach tightens as I think about our vigorous sexcapades this past weekend.

  “Sometime today would be useful,” Walter growls from the locker room door. I tie my apron around my waist, slam my locker shut, and brush past his grossly distended stomach. “Considerate of you to show up today.”

  I grab my notepad and pen from behind the counter. “I’m sorry I was sick.”

  He stumbles behind me. I swear he is one generation removed from Neanderthal. “Hope you’re not sick every time that boyfriend of yours comes to town.”

  His halitosis breath wafts into my nose. I picture his face scrunching up into a twisted version of the Joker. I won’t be able to eat for a week.

  I sidestep around the opposite corner of the counter and head over to my section in the rear of the Diner as far away from Walter as possible. “It won’t happen again.”

  “It better not, or you’ll find yourself a new job and a new place to live.”

  Employer and landlord. I am shit out of luck. I swallow back a mouthful of expletives describing in vivid detail just where he can stick his job. Instead I imagine the stool breaking into toothpicks under his enormous weight.

  “Hi,” I wave to Old Maid Mary, a seven thirty a.m. regular. “Do you need anything?”

  She wipes some egg yolk off her chin as she shakes her head. “Missed you yesterday. Were you sick?”

  “Yep, caught a twenty-four hour thing, but I’m back in the groove now!” I wink at her, as I head toward the high back booths, and the tan, muscled forearms of my first customer. On the inside of his right wrist, an interlocking three spiral tattoo catches my eye. I don’t remember seeing it before, but then I usually paid attention to his face. It reminds me of the Celtic symbol for life, death, and rebirth. I wonder when he got it. “Hi Jeb, how are you?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.” He nods at me as if he’s made of the tall pines that border the Rim Trail. He returns his attention to the menu.

  I can’t help feeling I did something wrong.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, of course. Can someone else take my order?” The sharpness of his voice catches me by surprise. I jump back from the table before I can stop myself.

  “I’m…, no,” I reply. His fists tighten around the menu. His lips form a hard line. I’ve never seen him look so severe. “There…, there aren’t anyone else working. I’m sorry.”

  He takes a deep breath as if he is doing everything in his power not to attack me. I don’t dare step near the table.

  “I’ll have an orange juice and a number three over-easy with rye toast,” he snaps. He hands me the menu. I grab it with a shaky hand. I’m terrified that if I drop it he’ll ignite, but I need not worry, his attention returns to his phone.

  I feel like I’ve offended him in some way, but I haven’t the faintest clue what. I remain rooted to the spot, unable to move.

  He waves his hand at me. “That’s all I need right now, thank you.”

  “Oh, okay,” I murmur, slowly backing away from the table. My days in Girl Scouts taught me to never turn my back on an enraged dog. I hug the menu to my stomach and rub my arms to ward off the frostbite.

  After placing his order, I pour his drink and bring it over to him. “Here’s your orange juice,” I whisper. He doesn’t even look up at me. He nods as he types away on his phone.

  As luck would have it, the morning breakfast crowd decides to occupy the booths all around Jeb. There’s no way I can avoid him. Even Old Maid Mary abandoned her stool at the counter for a booth with Gossipy Gertie for their Monday morning session.

  Every once in a while, I steal a glance in his direction, but he doesn’t lift his eyes. He pecks away on his phone, his keypad the innocent victim of his barely suppressed rage.

  The kitchen bell rings and I pick up his order. My delivery might very well make or break our friendship and that is what we are—friends. In Wellsboro, my friends are few and far between.

  “Here you go,” I say with a heavy ounce of cheerfulness.

  “Thanks,” he says without looking up at me. He twists his plate around, so the side that I touched faces away from him. He reaches for the knife.

  “Do you need anything else?”

  “No,” he replies. He spreads a thin layer of butter across the crusty golden surface and takes a bite.

  I watch his mandible move up and down. I wait for him to swallow, before I risk speaking. “Did I do something to offend you?”

  He turns toward me and does a double take. “No, I just have a lot on my mind this morning, and I’d like to spend my time focusing on friends who actually show up for my performances.”

  Performances. His show at Liquid. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I forgot all about it.”

  He takes his knife and butchers his innocent eggs. “Well, that proves my point, doesn’t it?”

  “I…, I…,” I search for words to explain and can’t find them. I decide to tell him the truth. It’s better if I don’t lead him on any longer. “Drew surprised me by coming home this weekend. I’m really sorry I missed your show.”

  He stabs a forkful of food. He lifts it up to his mouth and holds it midair. “I figured he did or you had a one night stand. That disgusting hickey is impossible to miss.”

  I pull the collar of my dress up. My cheeks burn. I hate that I’m unable to hide my discomfort. He notices more than I give him credit for.

  “Tiffani,” Walter bellows from his high and mighty stool. “You have orders up. Get moving!”

  “I’m really sorry Jeb. I’ll let you enjoy your breakfast in peace.” I duck my head and hurry back to the counter to deliver the rest of my orders.

  Chapter Sixteen

  My afterglow from Drew’s surprise visit evaporates with Jeb’s disapproval. I feel awful that I hurt his feelings, but we’re just friends. Whatever I thought I felt for him, whatever fantasies I indulged in, were nothing more than the ill-fated byproduct of loneliness.

  I tug on my new boots, an unfortunate reminder of my friend and grab Fischer’s leash.

  As we venture down the sidewalk, I realize I’ve made a terrible mistake. Less than ten yards from where I stand is World’s End Outfitter. I can’t forget Jeb’s look of disgust when he mentioned my hickey. I reach up to caress my neck. The mark is all that remains of Drew. In a few days, it’ll be gone and
my only memento of him will disappear. My hands pull in and out of each other. I wish I still had Drew’s ring to reassure me that our love stands true through time and distance.

  It seems silly to turn around. Cowardly even. Fischer tugs on the leash. His impatience wears thin as I waiver on the precipice of a grand decision. If I make him wait much longer, he’ll drag me to the trail like a rag doll. Besides, Jeb’s not even outside. The never ending tide of customers who have discovered his store keep him occupied long into the late afternoon.

  I consider running past, but that seems childish. If he happened to look out the window, he’d think I was trying to avoid him, which is true, but I don’t want him to know it. Fischer yanks on the leash. I pick up my pace to hurry past the shop, but I’m not quick enough.

  The door opens. Fischer’s hackles stand up, and I tug him back. Jeb steps onto the sidewalk and lets the late day sun warm his face. Fischer’s growling redirects his attention. His gaze shifts to Fischer, then me, then my boots. “Nice boots,” he says.

  I try to gauge his mood. He didn’t snap at me, which leads me to believe he isn’t mad I have the boots on. His shoulders aren’t tense, but he’s not smiling either.

  “Thank you, I thought Fischer and I would break them in with a short hike. It’s a beautiful day for it.”

  He puts his hands in his pockets and rolls onto the balls of his feet. “Which trail you heading out on?”

  “Probably Sunset. It’s not that long and the terrain changes aren’t too crazy. It’s a pretty easy hike for new boots.” I lift my right leg and wiggle the boot for emphasis.

  A hint of a grin appears at the corners of his lips. I get the distinct impression that he’s pleased that I have the boots on, and that makes me feel better. Then his eyes drop to my neck and his body stiffens. His lips turn down as if he swallowed something bitter. He closes his eyes and turns back to the sun. Fischer senses his mood shift. He tugs at the leash, growling at him. “Well, enjoy yourself out there.”