Bargaining with the Billionaire (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove)

by Maria Hoagland

  They reached the top of the staircase and took another right.

  “So you’re planning to stay permanently?” Hope bubbled up in his chest. If she planned to stay, that could change . . . well, everything about how he thought about her. It had been so long since he’d found a woman he was this interested in, and to be honest, the prospect of putting himself out there, risking something that had a chance of actually working out, was scary.

  “I mean, I did build a house here . . .” Her tone was the definition of noncommittal.

  “The house you don’t feel comfortable in,” he pressed.

  “Don’t get me wrong. It’s beautiful. It’s all I’ve ever dreamed of. Having my father do all custom stained glass throughout has personalized it in a way that makes it special.”

  “Then what’s not to like?” He gave her a searching look. If he understood her, he’d know if it was worth kindling a relationship. “Is it because of your hoity-toity neighbors? Those billionaires can be . . .” He didn’t finish that. He didn’t actually feel any of that; he was just pushing her buttons.

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “‘Hoity—’”

  He raised his hands to stop her before she got upset. “Kidding, just kidding. I’ve actually become pretty good friends with one of your neighbors.” But that brought him to something that had been niggling at him for a while now. “Can I ask a question? Tell me if it’s too personal.”

  She tensed but nodded, and then pointed to the painted wood Humpty Dumpty sitting high on the terraced wall, looking out over the downtown area. She’d found the egg, but she didn’t say anything, her silence indicating that she wanted him to continue.

  He wasn’t sure how to frame the question, but he took a stab at it. “Do you think you’re not comfortable with your house because you’re not comfortable with being a billionaire?”

  The woman in the couple in front of them turned to stare at them, and Autumn blushed and elbowed him. That was answer enough.

  “Shh,” she hissed, her eyes wide. She slowed down, and the couple moved on ahead. “You might be right.”

  “Always am,” he teased, referencing their earlier conversation.

  “And I know it.” She shook her head. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it—you know, that I just got lucky.”

  Kian shrugged. “Maybe. So?”

  “So what if I’m some one-hit wonder and I lose it all? Did you know it’s ten days after my meeting with Veronica and I still haven’t come up with a new theme?” She covered her face with her hands. “What if I never do? What if I’ve used all my best ideas and it’s all downhill from here?”

  “That’s a lot of what-ifs.” He understood the feeling but was not about to let her spiral downward. “How did you get to where you are?” She opened her mouth to give a quick answer, and he lifted a finger to stop her. “I want you to really think about it.”

  She clamped her lips together, and they went several paces in silence. “I can think of several things that maybe I haven’t been doing since I got here.”

  “Such as?”

  “Creating what I love. Believing in myself. Enjoying the process.”

  Profound. “So just do that all again.”

  “Yes.” She let out an adorable snort of a laugh. “Just. Because that’s so easy.”

  “Believe me, I know it’s not.” They were getting closer to Mollie’s place. He hoped she was ready, since he hadn’t given her a specific time. “Did you make any progress with a new-and-improved idea on jewelry designs?”

  She chuckled dryly. “Don’t ask.”

  They were alongside Mollie’s storefront. In the window, a new paper sign read “Psychic Readings.” The letters, outlined in black ink, were filled in with bright colors in a rangoli pattern.

  “Here you go. Looks like a good place to find your future.” He turned his phone toward her so she could read the list on his screen and then pointed at the sign. “What do you say we go in and let her do the hard work for us?”

  Autumn rolled her eyes. “Really? A psychic?”

  “What do you have to lose? You come to a town surrounded by paranormal—” He waved his hands around them. “—maybe they have a good idea for you, the answer to all your problems.”

  “You’re nuts,” she whispered, but she followed him in when he opened the door.

  “Welcome,” Mollie said in her best ethereal voice.

  Kian cleared his throat to cover the beginnings of a laugh. Mollie was one of the best actors he knew, and it served her well. Though she didn’t consider herself clairvoyant in any way, when she heard his idea, she’d been thrilled to join in.

  She spared him a quick glare but otherwise kept her expression clear. “Welcome, Kian, and—” She paused, placing index fingers to both temples, her long, fake sparkly fingernails all he could focus on. “—it’s a season, I think. Summer? No, that’s not quite right. Autumn.” Mollie opened her eyes. “You have come for a reading, yes? You would like the spirits of Eureka Springs to offer you counsel and advice.” She waved at a couple of chairs, and the three of them sat around a small circular table draped with overlapping silk patterned scarves.

  “Sure.” Though polite, Autumn didn’t try to veil her suspicion. Just like with every time Kian brought up Mafalda’s ghost, she made it clear she wasn’t buying into it. “Let’s see what you come up with.”

  “What I come up with?” Mollie pressed her hand to her heart, those gaudy fingernails almost making Kian laugh again. “I see you are a skeptic. That’s okay. We do readings for nonbelievers as well.”

  Mollie breathed in deeply and held her breath, her eyes fluttering closed. When she exhaled, she opened them again, her focus floating over Autumn until she paused on her necklace. “Instead of cards, for your reading, we will use something personal, something important to you.” With her elbow on the table, Mollie reached out, allowing her palm to flop toward Autumn. “Your necklace, if you don’t mind. The amulet will make a great—”

  “It’s not an amulet,” Autumn interrupted. “Hey, aren’t you the one I saw running the ghost tour the other night?”

  A languid smile touched Mollie’s lips. “Of course. Wouldn’t you think the one who communes with the dead is the best ambassador between the living and those who have passed on?”

  Silently, Autumn unclasped the necklace and held it out for her.

  With one hand, Mollie took the necklace; with her other, she reached out for Autumn’s hand and held it, palm up in her own. “I need you to relax, Autumn. Slow, deep breaths.” Mollie dangled the necklace by its chain, the pendant swinging slightly over Autumn’s palm like a pendulum.

  They sat in silence a few moments, and Kian had to fight sleep as he watched it.

  “You seek balance, calming, and clarity,” Mollie said. “This amethyst has all of these qualities; you only need to know how to unlock it.”

  Unlock. Kian squirmed at the word. He didn’t want Autumn to figure out how to unlock anything quite yet.

  “The spirits of Eureka Springs are strong around you.” Mollie’s eyes drifted closed.

  Autumn looked at Kian and rolled her eyes. He bit back a smile.

  “Especially the spirit of Mafalda Capone,” Mollie said.

  Under the table, Autumn backhanded Kian’s thigh teasingly. Kian caught her hand, her skin soft and strong at the same time. Autumn gave Mollie a smirk that she didn’t see and shook her head ever so slightly, but didn’t pull her hand away.

  “There is much Mafalda wishes me to tell you. The answers you seek are these: You will find balance as you help others find their true identity. You will be the key to uncover your love’s great mystery. To bring a sense of calm to your life, you must look to the past to discover your future, and clarity will come as you believe in yourself.”

  Autumn squeezed Kian’s hand as Mollie finished. Did that mean she had struck a chord? If only he had thought to record the reading, but he hadn’t expected Mollie to be so eloquent. When she�
�d said something about helping someone find their identity, he’d hoped that could somehow be him, but he’d gotten tripped up when Mollie referenced Autumn’s “love’s great mystery.” The thought that it could be him was both terrifying and thrilling. He squeezed Autumn’s hand back and never wanted to let go.

  17

  Mollie Sawyer was no more clairvoyant than Mafalda was a ghost. She was nothing more than an outsider with a decent guess about what was going on. While Autumn couldn’t get Kian to admit he’d set the whole thing up, he didn’t lie to her when she asked. He had this adorable tell, a twitch in his left eyebrow when he was uncomfortable. When she got close to the truth, his eyebrow jumped like it was on a trampoline.

  The thing was, Mollie wasn’t exactly wrong either. Well, except for that part about her love. She’d just thrown that in because something about the person’s love life was practically required for a psychic reading. Which meant Autumn could disregard that part. As far as everything else, Mollie could be right, but it was also common sense. Helping others brought balance—which she was trying to do with her father’s shop and mentoring Katrina. There was also a certain sense of calmness in grounding someone in the past while looking toward the future, but that was about as generic a prediction as any. It hardly meant anything. As for gaining clarity when she believed in herself, wasn’t that what she had just said to Kian on the sidewalk before they went inside? Maybe instead of a medium, Mollie was an eavesdropper.

  As far as Mollie’s suggestion about Mafalda went, the more the community joined Kian in trying to convince Autumn of her presence, the more convinced she was that Mr. Mexican Jumping Bean Eyebrow was behind the whole thing, though she had yet to prove it. Still, that didn’t mean she wasn’t starting to enjoy Mafalda’s “company.” Not that she would tell Kian.

  “What tricks did you play overnight this time, Mafalda?” Autumn joked when she unlocked the door to the Looking Glass the morning after the Eureka Springs scavenger hunt date with Kian. She took in the details of the room and, not seeing anything out of place, went to the project workbench where passersby could see whatever was being created at the time. Still nothing unusual.

  Disappointed, she slumped down on a stool, wishing her muse would strike with the next great idea. She’d already wasted eleven days since Veronica had come and stomped out her creativity. The clock was ticking, and the next six weeks until the Barefoot Ball would fly by. She needed an idea and needed it five yesterdays ago. But nothing was coming. Her mind circled back to the dragonfly ring and the necklace she’d designed to go with it. She loved that set and would find the right person for it, but for now, she had to let it go.

  To do that mentally, she physically needed to pack the necklace away. Autumn jogged down the stairs to the makeshift metalworking studio she’d installed in her father’s storage room. It was tight, that was for sure, but she had all the comforting equipment around her—vacuum table, centrifugal caster, and wax injector. The words softened around her like comforting paraffin, and she walked to the new workspace under the second-story window overlooking Main Street.

  On the workspace sat a sheet of notebook paper, pulled out of a spiral with its ragged edge on the right instead of the left. “May this piece of the past inspire your future.” Under this admonition sat a silver ring on the paper. Below, in a smaller size like a postscript, it said, “Stolen from Kian. He’ll probably want it back.” It was unconvincingly signed “Mafalda” in what looked more like a man’s handwriting than a woman’s. Then again, ghosts probably had a difficult time moving a pen, so she shouldn’t judge too harshly.

  She picked up the ring, turning it over in her fingers so she could look at it from every direction. With a long marquise gray diamond set in white gold, it was truly unique not only in its color but in the white-gold feather that extended from one side of the shank and curled over the stone from one side. It was like a bridge between art nouveau in its asymmetry and art deco in its simplicity—classic and completely gorgeous.

  She turned it around in the palm of her hand, allowing inspiration to flood over her. When she’d allowed nature to inspire her, she’d been thinking the traditional pieces of rings, bracelets, necklaces, earrings. This ring blew her mind open with so many more possibilities. If she went more to the art deco, 1920s side, she could add tie tacks and cuff links, as well as broaches, hairpins, headbands, and armlets. She rummaged for her sketchbook and drew some quick ideas. With this variety, more guests might be interested in trying out her pieces, which would only help with visibility, and Veronica would have to be pleased with that. With the simple designs, she’d be able to finish more pieces in time.

  To keep the ring safe, Autumn slipped the ring over her knuckle. The only finger it fit was her left ring finger, but that was the safest place for it. She ran out the side door and down the remaining flight of concrete steps to Spokes.

  “Kian!” She rushed to him, breathless.

  He blinked up from the bicycle he was working on in the middle of his club.

  She pulled the ring off her finger and held it between her thumb and forefinger for him to see. “This is perfect. I have so many ideas right now, I can hardly tell you.” She stopped. Here she was gushing, and he stood there as if shocked. She took a deep breath and calmed down. “Thank you. This totally helps.”

  “My great-grandmother’s ring.” He reached out and touched the ring, but then pulled his finger back. “You’re welcome to borrow it for however long you need it, but—” He wrinkled his forehead, but his left eyebrow jumped. “Where did you get it?”

  “My workbench.” She rolled her eyes and slipped the ring back onto her finger. It really was the best place to keep it for now. “I suppose you’re going to blame it on Mafalda again?”

  “If the shoe fits. Or should I say, if there’s no other explanation . . .”

  She crossed her arms and looked up at him. “I’ve been wondering—why would Mafalda Capone be haunting this building? Did she die here or something?” Her stomach turned. She may not believe there was a ghost haunting the building, but that didn’t mean she didn’t believe one couldn’t. She really didn’t want to hear any grisly stories.

  “I told you—she’s a jokester. It’s probably because she likes my comedy.”

  “Oh, really. And she thinks she’s funny too?”

  The sudden glint in his eye hinted that he hadn’t thought of that before but liked the idea. “Exactly.”

  “You two are awfully similar.” She caught his eye, and tingles ran through her. She could stand here all day flirting with him, but she had work to do. She sighed and pointed her thumb upstairs. “I’ve got to . . .”

  “I know. Me, too.” He nodded toward the bike. “Actually, I’m not going to be around much this week. I’ll be in and out with some enduro races out in Bella Vista, but don’t worry, I’ll be back every night to fire up the club. You won’t be left without background music.”

  “Background music and laugh tracks.” She lifted her eyebrows in challenge.

  “Oh no. They aren’t laugh tracks. That’s real people having a good time.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, but only to cover up his puffed-out chest.

  He wasn’t the only one who knew how to push buttons.

  He was saying he had a busy week ahead of him. That was fine. With all these ideas running through her mind, she’d either be carving, molding, casting, or finishing some piece or another. She nodded.

  “Good news is, you’ll have your peace and quiet during the day.”

  Bad news was that she would miss him. They walked to the front of his shop.

  She raised her fist with his great-grandmother’s ring. “Thanks for the inspiration. You’re a lifesaver. It seems I owe you another one.” Ecstatic, she jumped forward, giving him a quick hug. As a natural hugger, she hadn’t meant anything by it, but as soon as her arm went around his toned core and caught a hint of his cologne, her heart skipped to triathlon speed. What was she doing? She finished the
hug, hoping he hadn’t noticed her noticing him. “I’ll see you when I see you?” She winced inwardly. If the hug had been awkward, she’d just made it ten times worse.

  “Absolutely. And if you miss Thomas Rhett, hammering, or laugh tracks, I could leave them on for you when I’m gone—”

  “No!” she practically yelled in her excitement to stop him. She backed off. “I’ll manage,” she said calmly.

  His smile said he might miss her as much as she was sure she’d miss him, but she ran upstairs and immersed herself in sketching with his smile and that hug as motivation.

  “What do you have for me today, Mafalda?” Autumn opened the door to the Looking Glass and immediately started her daily Easter egg hunt to see if anything had changed overnight. If she weren’t one hundred percent sure Kian was the one messing with her, she’d have been nervous by now, but always the pranks were harmless, like furniture being rearranged, or even nice, like donuts. Occasionally, in the evening, the overhead lights dimmed like a wave hello, or the faint scent of lemon came out of nowhere, reminding her that she was thought of.

  Today’s gift was a beautiful bouquet of lavender and fresh rosemary held together with a twist tie. She chuckled at the unconventional juxtaposition. “Good choice, Mafalda.” Autumn raised the bouquet to her nose and inhaled deeply, the scents calming. “Though a ribbon might have been nice.” She took the twist tie off and plopped the stems into a Mason jar of water.

  Remembering their hug a week before, she wanted to run downstairs and repeat it, to throw her arms around Kian to thank him for the gift, but she hadn’t seen him when she parked across from Spokes. Just as he’d warned, they’d barely seen each other, but they kept in touch. Sort of. When she left a project and a note she’d made for him—wall art made from bicycle parts with stained glass to catch the stage lights—on her dad’s workbench upstairs, it had disappeared.