Bargaining with the Billionaire (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove)

by Maria Hoagland

  From his periphery, Kian saw Autumn look quickly at Emily’s assistant, Hattie, before answering. “We’re in the refining process, but I’m working with the client to come up with something Eureka Springs can be proud of.”

  Autumn sounded as unsure as he was, and after what she’d told him about the meeting earlier tonight, he knew why. Maybe taking her to this meeting wasn’t his best idea, but she handled it at least as well as he had, maybe better.

  “I have no doubt of that.” Emily’s reassurance was sincere. “We’re glad you’ve made Eureka Springs your home.” Emily moved on to planning the Wanderlust RV Festival, and half an hour later, the meeting adjourned.

  Kian guided Autumn toward the door, but several of the other business owners stepped forward to greet her so he stepped aside. A few had exchanged pleasantries with her before the meeting, but Eureka Springs’s resident flirt Franz thought he was her personal welcome party. The guy had her monopolized in a corner, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was laughing harder than Kian had ever seen her.

  He was trying to decide how much longer to wait before heading back to Spokes when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

  “What’s the latest on your treasure hunt?” a man sneered from behind him.

  Of course, the man spoke when Kian’s back was to him; that grumpy, gravelly voice belonged to a coward—a man his father’s age whose incessant taunting had given him nightmares as a kid. Despite his feelings, Kian forced politeness and turned to face Roger. Though he’d been tough and muscular at one time, the years hadn’t gone easy on the local bar owner, but that didn’t keep him from being as rough and caustic as ever.

  It didn’t matter how many times Kian had tried to set some of the old curmudgeons in town straight; they were determined to believe the stale rumors.

  “I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Roger.” His statement would surely encourage Roger to explain, but that was coming no matter what Kian said. He’d gotten used to letting it roll off his back. Someday, he’d have proof.

  “When you’re out there on all your little bike rides,” Roger said. “Don’t think we don’t know what you’re up to. You act like it’s your business—”He spat the word. “—taking tourists to traipse through the woods with you and all, when you’re only searching for the booty your great-grandpappy Al Capone left to rot out there in them woods instead of leaving it with his mistress.”

  “You’ll be the first to know if I find anything,” Kian’s sarcasm had a bit of truth to it. If he found anything of value that he could use to buy the building, Roger would be the first he would approach. He gave Roger a chin lift and turned to see if Autumn wanted to walk back with him.

  “Just make sure you’re not on private property, sonny,” Roger said to Kian’s back.

  He ignored the comment, smiling instead at Autumn, who’d noticed him across the room, her eyes lighting up. She made her way to him, and without him having to invite her, they walked out of the building together.

  “Sorry you were blindsided at the meeting,” Kian said once they were back on the open sidewalk. “I should have warned you, but welcoming you wasn’t on the agenda, so it hadn’t occurred to me.” After three years’ involvement in chamber of commerce meetings, he should have anticipated it, though.

  “No worries.” Autumn’s hands fidgeted. “Even with advance notice, I don’t think my answer would have changed.”

  He chuckled. “Aren’t we a pair?”

  “Real fountains of information,” she agreed dryly.

  They walked up the hill in the direction of the Looking Glass, though neither of them seemed to be in a hurry. “Yeah, less of a fountain and more of a spring.” A balmy breeze cooled the evening to a perfect temperature, and there was just the right amount of activity going on—not too much traffic, but enough that there was an energy to the air around them.

  “Yeah, a condemned one.” She was quick.

  He eyed her. “Was that a Eureka Springs joke?” Not too many newcomers were aware that the magical healing spring that had originally brought people to settle here was now condemned. She beamed back at him, and he continued, “You know more about the town than I would have guessed.”

  Autumn exaggeratedly looked around her as if not wanting to be overheard. “That’s all I know,” she stage-whispered, and then she clamped a hand over her mouth, pretending to be embarrassed by her admission. She obviously felt nothing of the sort.

  He chuckled. She was just so adorable. “Then it’s safe to say you weren’t aware of the other half of your initiation. The traditional Eureka Springs chamber of commerce town hall baptism by fire culminates in cooling off with your choice of frozen dessert.”

  What he’d said was a mouthful, and yet he’d pulled it off without cracking a smile. She fought to contain her own, but was losing spectacularly.

  “I did not.” Autumn played along. “How could I when I didn’t realize I was pledging?” Light reflected off her rings as she lifted her hands, gesturing as she spoke.

  “How does ice cream at Eureka Scoops sound?”

  “Like a balm to my troubled life.”

  They stood in line, joking about the boring names of flavors while they waited for their turn to order. “Instead of double chocolate, it ought to be Ozark mud,” Kian said, hoping it tasted better than the splatters he’d accidentally ingested during mountain bike wipeouts.

  “Or instead of blueberry, maybe blues festival berry,” Autumn suggested.

  He nodded appreciatively. “And mint, of course, would be—”

  “—little green men-t,” she finished for him. When she laughed, her face lifted to meet his eyes, and she leaned forward, touching his arm. The trifecta of the sound, the look, and her touch filled him with happiness.

  “What if I was going to say leprechaun mint? Our Saint Patrick’s Day celebration is legendary.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him in question.

  “Okay, fine. I admit I was going to tie it to aliens.” He scanned over the list of flavors. There were so many more flavors they hadn’t mentioned yet, and he could see several possible connections. “You and I are both seeking thematic vision. Ice cream is clearly inspirational—”

  “Clearly,” she agreed wholeheartedly, barely interrupting him.

  “So I wonder if there are ideas to be gleaned from here.” He was being silly, of course, but now that he’d started this train of thought, he kept going, even knowing it would likely turn out to be a train wreck. “Is there a flavor that makes you think of an event Eureka Springs doesn’t have yet? Perhaps we’ll think of new festival options for me or silent auction ideas for you.”

  “What, like zoos for the chocolate banana?” She reached for the waffle cone she’d ordered in that flavor and then nodded toward the one Kian reached for. “Or a circus theme for the peanut butter fudge?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “All right, now you’re just being facetious.” Kian bumped her shoulder with his.

  “Maybe.”

  She looked up at him, innocence shining in her eyes, and heat flooded through him. To get his mind off it, he raised his ice cream to take a lick. Just when he lifted it to his lips, she bumped him back, and his cone bounced off his nose.

  She burst out laughing and handed him a napkin. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

  He wiped off his face, feeling happy to his toes. This was the kind of girl he liked spending time with—someone who loved to mess around as much as he did. “Ah, now you’re asking for it. Better watch your back, or you’ll be smelling rotten bananas for days.”

  The mischievous twinkle in her eye told him he’d better be on his guard as well. “My bananas aren’t rotten. They’re yummy.” She took an exaggerated lick and then pushed the cone toward him, offering him a taste.

  He gave her the stink eye. She’d probably pull it back if he tried. “Nope. Too much banana.” He wrinkled his nose, though he didn’t have a problem with the flavor. “Not enough pean
ut butter.”

  She waved the cone under his nose. “But bananas go great with peanut butter,” she said in a singsong voice.

  They did, but he wouldn’t admit that. He smirked at her, and they headed back out to the street, now close to empty except for Mollie guiding the ghost tour across the street. Couples held hands and stood close while a group of single ladies giggled in the back. “Don’t forget to tell them about Mafalda when you get to my building,” he called out. “She’s been rather busy lately.”

  Mollie waved at him, barley breaking in her script delivery. She was a professional and loved her job—even doing extra research on the weekends at the local library. He shuddered at the thought of being cooped up when the sun was shining—now that was scary.

  Autumn’s eyes flashed. “Somebody’s been busy, but I’m still not convinced it’s a ghost.”

  Her challenging look was what consistently egged him on. How could he give up teasing her when she took it so well?

  Instead of walking up the hill toward the shop, Autumn chose a side staircase between two buildings and started down it. He followed. “This arts thing they were talking about in the meeting . . .” About three steps from the top, Autumn sat down and patted the slab beside her, an invitation for him to join.

  “You mean the First Friday Arts Trail?”

  She nodded. “I’m assuming that means it’s monthly?”

  Now it was his turn to nod.

  A noisy group crossed by up on the sidewalk, and Autumn looked over her shoulder to watch them. When it was quiet again, she turned back. “How do I get my dad’s shop on it?”

  No question the Looking Glass should be included. Tommy teaching classes or working with the stained glass for onlookers was exactly what the arts trail was designed to highlight. All he had to do was join the chamber of commerce and he’d be included.

  “I could get the Looking Glass onto the Trail—” He tapped his fist, half-eaten ice cream cone in it, against his knee a couple of times as he pretended to think about it. He took in a sharp breath like what he was about to say pained him. “—for a price. But remember, you’re already on the hook to sing tomorrow.”

  Autumn placed her palm on the concrete step and leaned back on it, away from him, studying his expression. He almost backtracked right then. “Are you sure you want me to sing? You’ll only be hurting business, but if you want to take that chance . . .”

  Oh no. He wasn’t giving up that easily. He kept his look steady on hers, not changing his expression.

  She broke first. “Okay, fine.” She rolled her eyes to the sky. “What will the Art Trail cost me?”

  Kian took a big bite of his cone and crunched slowly. “You heard Emily. I need a headliner, a big name—and just to keep things interesting, since I’m the one working on it, I’d like it to be up my alley, not some writing thing or—” He waved her direction dismissively. “—anything artsy.”

  She quirked that eyebrow again, sending his heartbeat speeding. “So, grungy guys on muddy bikes?” she said. “Easy-peasy.”

  “Not so fast.” He put a finger up to stop her. “Not another race. This area already has plenty of those.” The biggest of which was next week.

  She pursed her lips and nodded several times. She must have thought of something, because a confident look crossed her face. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  With all of her fame, she had to have some big celebrity names who could help. He didn’t even feel bad asking, even though Emily would add Tommy’s shop in a heartbeat. Except— “One other problem.” It might actually be a real one. “The chamber of commerce just printed new maps for the year.” But if Autumn found him his headliner, he’d deal with Emily.

  “I’m sure I could get new maps printed.”

  Right. Money was no object. How had he forgotten she was the billionaire?

  He studied her. She seemed so . . . normal. Sure, she’d dressed up for her business meeting and looked amazing, but he’d seen her in a mud-splattered, wrinkled old T-shirt, for heaven’s sake.

  They finished their cones and made their way back to the Looking Glass. When they got to her door, Autumn turned to him. “Thanks for the enlightening evening. And for keeping your end of the bargain.”

  With the headliner on his mind, he’d almost forgotten about his silence tonight in exchange for her singing tomorrow. They had so many deals going on, even he was having trouble keeping track. “Thanks for sharing an ice cream with me.” He moved to start down the stairs.

  While it was late, he wouldn’t be able to sleep for a while, not when he wanted to replay their conversations, her playfulness, the way she smiled. She had a quick wit he only wanted more of, and because of that, it was probably a good thing the evening was over. He needed to clear his head, focus on convincing her she didn’t want to buy the building. What if she hated the late-night noise enough that she would force out his comedy club? He swallowed. She wouldn’t do that.

  “Kian?” she called from behind him.

  He turned, hopeful but cautious.

  “Are you done for the night?” She’d already gone inside the shop, but now when he looked up, her hand rested on the doorframe with her head and shoulders sticking out so she could see him.

  He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a serious look. He had to work hard to keep from chuckling. “Is that your way of asking if I’m going to blast the speakers?”

  She dropped her chin, hiding halfway behind the doorframe in defeat.

  “Haven’t you earned a night off, Autumn-ista? Why don’t you just go home?”

  Autumn’s sigh filled her whole chest, and he climbed the stairs back toward her instinctively. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, to let her spill all her worries.

  “That house . . . It doesn’t feel like me.” Her brunette tresses swung around her shoulders, and he itched to push her hair back so he could see her face better. How homesick was she?

  “It takes a while to get used to a new place.” He hoped his words came across as encouraging, not placating or dismissive. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Her eyes searched his face for a moment. “You already are.” She stood straighter and rested her hand on the doorknob. He could see she was determined to stay later, but at least she sounded happier. “Ice cream makes everything better.”

  “You should have had the circus ice cream,” he teased. “I’m sure it was better than the zoo.”

  “Maybe. But then I wouldn’t smell like rotten bananas.”

  A fire lit in his chest and radiated down his arms. He wanted to hold her close, put his lips on hers, and check to see if she really did smell of bananas and chocolate. Like she said, it would go great with peanut butter. But he held back. He couldn’t kiss her. Not yet.

  If she were to find out he was in the middle of an ongoing property dispute with Roger Luman, would she think him manipulative if he pursued a relationship with her? Contrary to what he’d shown her so far, not everything he did had an ulterior motive. Hanging out with Autumn had nothing to do with dissuading her from buying the building.

  But that didn’t mean he wanted to abandon the Mafalda ruse, especially now that it was more fun than practical. Perhaps it was time for Mafalda to move on to the next phase.

  An hour later, after Autumn walked to her car and drove away, he went upstairs to his office, where he had stashed the supplies that had been delivered the previous day. He’d been looking forward to this prank but had hesitated, unsure how Autumn would react. After their teasing back and forth all evening and then her reaction to his crack to Mollie about the supposed ghost in their building, he knew she could take it.

  He grabbed the box of supplies and a couple of simple tools—a flathead screwdriver for starters. Opening the wall between his office and Autumn’s new studio, he sneaked in to install dimmer switches on the shop’s light fixtures. Thanks to technology, he’d be able to control them from his phone.

  For good measure, he left a trail of
circus animal crackers across her worktable.

  Before leaving, he stood, taking in the shop. As Tommy’s neighbor, Kian had spent a lot of time up here, chatting with the guy who’d quickly become a friend, but over the past couple of weeks, the place had taken on a whole new feeling. Autumn hadn’t changed anything physically. The furniture and layout were all the same, the day-to-day business unmodified, but her stamp was in the air, the feel of her presence even after she’d gone home.

  He breathed in the last hint of her perfume and smiled. Then he picked up one of the pink-frosted camels and bit it in half before leaving it at the end of the line. What would she make of that? Spirits didn’t eat cookies—especially ones that went along with that evening’s conversation.

  He wouldn’t see her reaction, but he hoped that when she saw the cookies, she would smile as she thought of him.

  15

  The morning after Autumn’s visit with Veronica, something was different about the Looking Glass. At first glance, everything looked normal. Morning sun streamed through her father’s miniature masterpieces in the display windows, bouncing rainbows of color across the room. The room was still and quiet, but compared to the late nights she spent in the space, it felt less peaceful and more lonely.

  To combat the feeling, she switched on the overhead light fixtures and then the stereo with the upbeat, happy music that would play all day in the background, but it did nothing to push away the feeling that she’d stepped into the wrong shop.

  After the unexpected delivery of the missing boxes, the movement of her papers, and the flowers being pulled from the trash, almost every morning Autumn was on the alert for something to be altered, and she was pretty sure she knew who was changing it. Of all the locals she talked to, not one other person hinted that the ghost of Mafalda Capone haunted her building. Well, not seriously, anyway. There had been a few, especially that one guy—Scooby, was it?—who’d joked about it with Kian. It always went back to Kian.