Bargaining with the Billionaire (Billionaire Bachelor Mountain Cove)

by Maria Hoagland

  Another day, lunch for both her and Katrina had come via “bicycle courier.”

  “He looks familiar.” Autumn scratched her head as he stood there, helmet on, holding out a plastic grocery bag with the handles tied. She looked at Katrina. “I may be new to town, but I’m pretty sure that’s Kian. Kian Gould from downstairs?”

  Kian shook his head. “Sorry, ma’am. Like I said, just a bicycle courier dropping off lunch for y’all.”

  It had been cute, and she’d enjoyed seeing him, but Autumn couldn’t wait to spend some actual time with Kian again. She only had to wait two more days. She had a surprise for him for this week’s show. Country music star Brooke Holt and her husband were coming into town at Autumn’s suggestion, and the three of them had tickets for Friday night. She wouldn’t tell Kian, but Brooke was scoping out the town and the club to see if headlining an event in Eureka Springs was something she wanted to do, or see if she could recommend someone who would.

  Autumn would show Brooke and Isaac around town in the morning, but first, she had to finish the waxes for her auction piece. She looked at the calendar pinned on her wall. Today was Wednesday. With less than a month until the event, she was already cutting it too close. Quickly doing the math, she factored in each step of the process. She’d carved the wax model—the most time-intensive part—made molds and shot waxes, and now she was in the middle of cleaning them up. For days, she’d been working to remove the extra flashing, fill in the tiny air holes, smooth away the rough areas, and sharpen the lost details. Her goal was to complete it before Brooke and Isaac came, so she could enjoy their visit as stress-free as possible.

  Then, after they returned home, Autumn would be ready to set the piece in plaster—another mold-making process with several steps of its own—and cast it in liquid gold before going through the entire finishing process. Going through each nook and cranny each step of the way was time-intensive, but she had to make sure it was perfect before she sent it for a final tumble, finish, and polish—oh, and set the gemstones. This one necklace alone would take at least a little bit every day until the event to finish, and she still had scores of other pieces in some part of the process. The timeline was doable, but barely.

  Which was why she hadn’t even bothered to get Veronica’s approval or opinion on the theme. That, at least, was something she’d taken from the sham psychic reading from Mollie. As soon as she’d seen Kian’s great-grandmother’s ring, she’d known what would work, and she trusted herself. She loved these new designs based on the 1920s that she’d come up with, and she didn’t care what Veronica thought.

  With Katrina manning the store, Autumn spent all day, carving tools in hand, bent over the intricate pieces until her neck ached, her headlamp bit into her forehead, and her hands cramped to the point where she could no longer focus her strokes. She leaned back, stretching her back and taking stock of where she was on the project overall.

  After nearly a week and a half of solid work, Autumn’s stash of jewelry for the Barefoot Ball was growing. She was on track to offer every guest invited to the silent auction a chance to choose a piece to wear during the event. Creating unique designs would give everyone a chance to choose according to their outfit and personal taste, but the hope was that it would also create a buzz between the guests as well as on social media and other outlets. She was plugging along with these smaller pieces, but today, she’d reserved specifically for the auction piece, and she was almost there.

  She ran a finger over the detail on the waxes that would become the extravagant necklace of her showcase. While the intricate filigree on the shield-shaped plaque wasn’t her own personal taste, the craftsmanship was careful and detailed. She was relieved that with her hard work, the waxes turned out well, because she didn’t have time left before the event to come up with a different auction piece.

  When she closed the door to the Looking Glass at two in the morning, she was beyond exhausted, but she had achieved her goal. Each blue wax was cleaned up and resting in a tray for the next step in production. Knowing she was too tired to drive safely, she called her chauffeur to pick her up. In her half-sleep, zoned-out state during the drive, she congratulated herself on her success. She’d crafted the perfect jewelry for the event. Her silent auction piece would cause a bidding war, and she’d done it all in the nick of time.

  The next morning, before Brooke and Isaac landed on the private airstrip, Autumn would check the armband molds she’d mixed up and shoot the injectable wax, and maybe start on carving the earrings to go with the auction necklace. Everything was going as planned.

  She fell into bed, satisfied that part of the job was done. The day after tomorrow, she’d hang out with friends, and hopefully— finally—get to spend time with Kian. She fell asleep, her dreams scented with the lavender and rosemary he’d left to remind her he was still thinking about her too.

  18

  Kian needed another real, honest-to-goodness date with Autumn Molinero. It was fun teasing her as Mafalda, especially because they both knew it wasn’t a ghost, but he was ready to move past the games. He was ready for a relationship, ready for Autumn. Random texts and occasional drop-bys only made him want to spend more time with her. Yes, she was busy with a Really Big, Important Thing, but she had to have some “off” time to recharge, didn’t she? What could he offer that she could fit into her schedule?

  Kian grabbed the last two tickets to tonight’s comedy show and only hesitated a second before he blocked it from online booking. In the weeks since Autumn had watched his show, he’d done his same sketches and featured a few guest comedians who had been fun. Tonight, though, he had new material he was excited to try out, and he wanted her in the audience. The big question was if he should offer Autumn both tickets in the hopes that she’d bring Katrina or another friend. He didn’t want to take the chance that she would bring a date, especially if she read his gesture wrong. He would just make sure when he offered the tickets that it was clear he wanted to go out after the show.

  Before heading outside to run up the staircase, he peeled off his jacket and left it behind the counter at Spokes. Apparently, even on the last day in July, it took a little while for the chill to wear off when you cranked the air conditioner in the building all night. Mafalda wouldn’t pull that prank again. It wasn’t as fun as he’d anticipated and would probably cost a pretty penny when the electric bill came.

  He’d discovered his mistake when he’d come in early that morning to get some work done. As soon as he’d unlocked the door at Spokes and wished he had a parka, he’d known he’d gone too far. What was supposed to be a joke would discourage Tommy’s customers from browsing, and Autumn had so much work she was trying to get done. He couldn’t leave her to be uncomfortable in her studio.

  Hoping he could rectify the problem before it was time to open the shop, he’d run up his office stairs and gone through the passageway, hoping that Autumn hadn’t shown up yet. Seeing her studio in the light for the first time in weeks, he was shocked at how much she had crammed into one tiny space. She had jewelry in various steps of the process everywhere—blue plasticky-looking things in black trays and gold pieces with holes in them waiting for the gemstones to be set. On the worktable, there were silicone molds and wax slabs and little shiny beads of metal.

  He’d carefully picked his way through the room where changing the thermostat and opening windows had been the best he could do. Hopefully, by the time Autumn got in for work, the temperature would be better, and his foolish prank wouldn’t have backfired too badly.

  Satisfied he’d done what he could, Kian had carefully stepped over a makeshift shelf stacked high with trays, slipped back through the passageway. Right about the same time he thought he might have heard a crash on the other side of the wall, outside his window, he spotted Autumn’s car in the parking lot with no Autumn in sight. He’d closed the passageway just in time.

  Now he started up the stairs, thawing in the morning sun. Dropping the temperature in the building
hadn’t been his only bad decision of the summer. He’d been so caught up in the fact that Autumn was only here for a few months, he hadn’t pursued what could have been some really great times together—and for what? The worry that she’d leave him if he risked his heart? Wasn’t that always the risk? What if he’d invested in a relationship and she decided to stay? The idea wasn’t that far out there, considering she had built a multimillion-dollar mansion here. But the fact that she could build a house of that caliber proved she wasn’t tied to it. She could afford the house here and one somewhere else.

  Stop. Just stop. Worrying about the what-ifs had lost him opportunities. No more.

  He didn’t even have to open the door when he got to the top of the stairs. He stepped across the threshold and wished he’d kept his jacket on. The chill inside the Looking Glass was worse than in Spokes.

  “Hey, Katrina.” He stopped his approach when she glared at him. Somebody had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. “Is Autumn in her shop?” He should have just knocked on the shop door on his way up the stairs.

  “Nope.” Katrina’s expression didn’t change, and her body language was even colder than the air—stiff with her arms crossed—as she leaned away from him. This wasn’t the wrong side of the bed. This was personally directed at him. “She had to leave. Damage control from last night.”

  “What happened?” All kinds of awful scenarios went through his mind, jumping first to the worry that she might have been attacked on her way to her car late at night. He hadn’t seen her leave, though not for lack of trying. But damage control . . . Surely not something he’d done . . .

  “This,” she exploded, her voice hard. She emphasized her words with her hands. “This cold. It doesn’t just scare away customers; it ruined her biggest project.” She crossed her arms again and clamped her lips and clenched her jaw.

  “Oh.” Kian felt sick. “As soon as I walked in this morning, I knew it was cold, but seriously, I had no idea it would cause damage.” All that work Autumn had invested in her jewelry . . . He’d royally messed up.

  “I think it’s best if you leave.” Katrina turned her back on him. She pulled out a long-handled duster and stomped around the counter to swipe at the window displays.

  “Is there anything I can do to help? I don’t mind doing grunt work—she can tell me what to do, anything.”

  Keeping her back to him, Katrina worked her way around the room as if he wasn’t even there.

  “I want to make this right,” he pleaded, wishing he could be having this conversation with Autumn, but he should probably be glad he wasn’t.

  Finally, Katrina turned around. “You can’t fix this, Kian. Not everything is a joke, and you can’t just take this one back.” Her shoulders slumped. “Honestly, I’m not sure how serious it is. It’s not ruined so much as it put a real kink in her timeline. Give her a chance to wrap her head around it.”

  Kian nodded. Wise counsel from a teenager. “Thank you for telling me.” He closed his eyes and sighed. This was not how things were supposed to go. “I know you’re right about giving her time, but if you hear of anything I can do, will you please let me know?”

  Kian descended the stairs slowly, beating himself up about the prank gone awry. He’d had a feeling that today would be a shift in his relationship with Autumn, but this was not he’d hoped for. He’d give himself till he walked back into Spokes to mourn, and then he would force himself to take Katrina’s advice. He’d take it on faith that if he gave Autumn time and space, maybe she would forgive him. He wouldn’t give up, and he would do anything he could to make it up to her, but as the saying went, “The show must go on,” and his was sold out for tonight. Sold out, except for the two tickets in his pocket.

  He opened the door to Spokes and headed to the computer to mark the seats open. Might as well make the tickets available for tourists looking for last-minute entertainment. He just hoped he could push his regrets aside long enough to be passably funny tonight, even if his heart was breaking.

  “Sounds good, boss.” Rocky gave the okay sign from the back of the room and then waved as he went off to fire up the popcorn machine. Though the college student had only been working with Kian a few weeks, they had their routine down. With the mic and speaker sound checks done, Kian would now turn on the background music to set the mood as audience members came in.

  Once he had his own checklist completed, Kian stepped in next to Rocky to fill concession orders. Maybe not the most professional thing to do—it wasn’t like Jerry Seinfeld would be seen behind a snack bar getting Coke spilled on his tennis shoes—but it gave Kian the opportunity to mingle with patrons in a whole different way. Besides, if he could put off hiring another employee, he could bank a little more of the profits toward building the business.

  Kian snapped a lid on a medium Sprite and handed it and a bag of popcorn to a petite woman with long black hair. He didn’t recognize her, but the guy she was with . . . It took a moment before Kian placed him. “Rooster.” Kian pointed at the guy. “You have that gorgeous golden retriever, don’t you?”

  The guy, tall and lean and wearing a hat, laughed. “That’s me. Rooster’s human.” He took it well, with a big smile on his face.

  “Friendliest dog in town.” Kian almost felt guilty for not recognizing the guy faster. He probably saw him walking the dog a couple times a week. “Kian Gould, great to meet you.” He added a box of Thin Mints to their order just because.

  “Hazel and Wesley,” the guy said. “My mom and I own the hat shop—”

  “Of course! The hat shop.” Kian wouldn’t have minded chatting longer, but there was a line. “Enjoy the show!”

  That conversation and the thought of Rooster, the friendly golden retriever, helped smooth the jagged emotions of the day. Kian paused to take in the happy chatter of those around him. People came for a laugh, and the last thing he wanted was to bring them down just because he’d messed up with Autumn. He was in her debt, and he would find a way to make up for it. Now, though, he had to allow himself to step back from the stress and don the persona of the funny guy with no worries. It was a lot of pressure in some ways, but so much of a relief in others. For forty minutes, he could be the best parts of himself and pretend like nothing was wrong.

  Unfortunately, the last laugh he’d intended to get from Autumn had turned very wrong. He was feeling anything but funny tonight.

  Kian forced a smile. “Enjoy your Coke and the show.” This time it was a middle-aged couple dressed in business casual with big-city flair. If pressed, he would guess they were from out of town, which thrilled him.

  “Ah! So you Southerners do call every soda a Coke!” The woman carefully set her sunglasses in her hair like an accessory and reached for the soda, her expression gleeful.

  He wasn’t one of the Southerners who didn’t differentiate between different flavors, especially at a snack bar where you had to be precise. He’d just forgotten the details of their order thanks to the dozens of drinks he’d already filled that night. He smiled. “Have a good evening.”

  Before calling the next customer over, he checked his watch and the length of the line. He’d need to step out to take a breather before going onstage. He turned to face Rocky as a clue to the next line that he wasn’t sticking around. “I’m going to—”

  “Of course.” Rocky acknowledged him with a chin lift while his hands flew at twice the rate Kian’s had.

  He was only a few steps away and already diving into his pre-performance mindset when he heard Autumn call his name. “Do you have a minute?” she asked.

  If it had been anyone else, he would have been tempted to say no, but he owed her everything. He turned, hoping his expression was the right balance of friendliness and guilt. If Autumn was here to watch the show, she’d probably brought a date. He braced himself before turning.

  He hadn’t braced himself enough. A couple stood at Autumn’s side, the woman surprisingly familiar-looking, though out of context. Surely, his cute upstairs n
eighbor didn’t have a connection with one of country music’s biggest stars.

  “Kian, I’d like to introduce you to Brooke Holt and her husband, Isaac Murphy.”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Brooke Holt being introduced to him in his club. He blinked, trying to focus again on the words as they came from Autumn’s perfect mouth.

  “They’re in town to catch your show.” Autumn turned to the couple. “Brooke, my friend Kian Gould, the owner of this club and tonight’s stand-up comedian.” Autumn was polite. Too polite and so formal, she clearly hadn’t forgiven him. And yet she was doing him a huge favor.

  “Nice place you have here.” Brooke looked around appreciatively. “I love playing at small clubs like this. I don’t get the chance much anymore.”

  “Do you want to sing tonight?” He didn’t have to think, just react. “I could make some quick changes with the stage and sound . . .” He motioned that direction.

  “Uh, yeah. That would be so nice of you!” Her smile glittered like Nashville rhinestones. Like he was doing her a favor instead of the other way around. “Except I don’t want to take over your show, so don’t do anything to the stage. I’ll just do a couple of acoustic numbers whenever you want to fit me in, if that’s okay.”

  Thrilled, Kian worked out the details with her. When they went to take their seats, he gave Rocky the signal that he was headed backstage, which was nothing more than the stairwell to his office. He sat at the bottom of the flight of stairs, taking deep breaths to clear his mind. Rocky dimmed the house lights, and Kian could hear the scraping of chair legs on the wood floor as audience members took their seats, their voices hushing.

  Adrenaline coursed through Kian, and his heartbeat took off—in a good way. This performing for a crowd in his own club would never get old. He loved bringing a light into people’s world. No one would ever be able to convince him his work was frivolous or nonessential. After all, laughter was the best medicine. Maybe tonight it would be the antidote to the pain he’d caused Autumn, a salve to begin the healing process between them. A couple of funny lines wouldn’t solve her problem, but if it melted her resentment enough that she would allow him to apologize . . .