Rekindled: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance (Lost Love Book 3)

by Marcella Swann

  He gently laid her down on the sofa, his touch exquisitely tender. He stretched out his naked body beside her, his head cushioned against her warm chest, his hand on her stomach. They were both breathing hard, seeing stars, dazed and tingling. Staring up at the ceiling.

  Together.

  Chapter 13

  Tristan softly brushed aside Faith’s blond hair from her cheek and kissed her. He’d fallen asleep beside her on the sofa, then woke up sometime in the night to gently pick her up and bring her upstairs to bed. It was morning when he awoke again beside her in bed. His lips still tasted like her, his fingers had her scent. He’d quietly dressed, but he wasn’t leaving.

  God, no.

  Not after a night like that. Forget marble counters or pricey penthouses. All he needed was Faith to have the most mind-blowing sex of his life. She hadn’t been like that when she was younger! And her body was as hot as could be, her tits bouncing as she fucked him. She’d wanted it so much it made him stop playing around and want her back just as much.

  Maybe even more.

  She brought out something in him he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It made him feel like how he used to, before his dad died and he’d headed off to the University of Michigan. He’d become so focused on achieving. But being with Faith relaxed him, somehow, and at the same time also made him want to do better . . . for her. Not because he saw her as an achievement, but because when they were both at the top of their game, that chemistry was off the charts. They were great apart, but together?

  God damn. It was . . . fucking amazing.

  Which made him grin like an idiot at Lucy as he came downstairs to the kitchen. He took the little bulldog out to relieve herself, then got her breakfast. He started poking around for eggs and bacon to make something for him and Faith. Tristan usually never ate breakfast, since that was the meal his dad always cooked for him. When he shut the fridge door and brought the ingredients over to the stove, he discovered Faith was awake, and watching him work.

  “Morning, beautiful.”

  He kissed her soft lips and liked the playful ass squeeze she gave him.

  “Hey there,” she said. “Breakfast? Cool. I do have an appetite.”

  “I’ll bet you do.”

  She winked in reply and settled at the breakfast bar stool. He wanted to keep looking at her, but he had to pay attention to the food, too. The bacon started to crisp up and pop in the hot skillet. It made her kitchen smell good. He cracked the eggs and put them in a separate pan, making them scrambled just like how they both liked it.

  He felt great. It was too bad he had to leave Chelsea on Friday to return to Manhattan. Even if things did go sour at Van Doren, he knew he’d do just fine back in New York. There was that travel photographer. Right?

  But then he dished up Faith’s breakfast and she smiled at him, and Tristan couldn’t think about other girls. They seemed so different from Faith, like they spent their lives polishing and preening and primping. They were at the top, but it wasn’t because they loved their work. It was just about being competitive. That’s what he knew, and he wasn’t sure why it didn’t hold the same charm as it did before.

  This woman did, though. She was tactful enough to praise his clumsy cooking, and she kept staring off into space as she ate her breakfast. He could see her intelligent mind working behind her bright blue eyes. He knew as long as he lived, she’d always come up with something quippy, new, and interesting to say. She’d never bore him.

  His phone buzzed on the counter. Shrugging to Faith, he checked the caller ID. He saw it was Ricky.

  “I’ll just take this outside,” he said.

  “Sure.”

  “Hey man,” Tristan said out on Faith’s porch. The morning breeze was crisp and smelled like apples. “What’s up?”

  “I’m on my way to Aspen.”

  “Now? I thought you said Monday.”

  “I’ve booked the penthouse suite at The Ritz-Carlton Club. Figure I’d get a jump on things.”

  “That’s . . . great.” Unexpected, but great.

  “I do expect you here Monday. I’ll even set up the meeting with the Aspen Boot Company owner.”

  Tristan hesitated for a second. “You know, Ricky, I like what you’re doing and all. But, maybe there’s something to be said for these small companies.”

  “What?”

  “Just hear me out for a sec. These small businesses have an impact on their community. This boot company’s been around for a century and a half. That means something.”

  Ricky laughed. “Very funny, Tris. You can’t get out of your Van Doren bet, you know. That wouldn’t be fair.”

  “I can afford to lose.”

  “Dude, you hate to lose. See you Monday.”

  Click. Tristan tapped the phone against his cheek, thinking. Hmmm. He could do both things. He could make this quick trip to Colorado and upgrade Van Doren at the same time, right? It would be a tight schedule and he’d lose all the momentum and progress he’d made with Faith. But Ricky was being impatient. For the first time, Tristan had strong feelings swaying him against taking over a small business. It didn’t sit right with him.

  “Everything okay?” Faith asked when he came back inside the kitchen.

  He frowned. “Not really. I’ve got to go to Colorado on business for a few days.”

  “That’s sudden. You’re leaving now?”

  “Yeah. As soon as I can.”

  “Huh.” She slowly sank down on her barstool. “I thought we’d spend a nice weekend together. I was looking forward to getting out of town.”

  “You can’t come with me on this one.”

  “Yeah, I know. I was also thinking of maybe talking to Cubby about retiring. Now that pretty much everything has been upgraded at Van Doren, I can take over the company and launch it in a new direction. The old place still has at least two or three centuries left in it.”

  “Van Doren is great, Faith. But it doesn’t have that long of a future.”

  “You’re being pessimistic.”

  “No, I’m really not.” He pulled out the other barstool and sat beside her. “Not even some simple upgrades can change the fact it would be cheaper to have an overseas company doing the upholstery.”

  “I get it, Tristan.”

  “I hope you do. I’m going to Colorado to one of these same small businesses. They’re behind the times, and I’m going to buy them.”

  She took a deep breath, her eyes hardening. “So, you still want to buy Van Doren.”

  “Every product market has gone global, Faith. These little businesses just can’t financially compete if something can be made cheaper elsewhere.”

  “I was right all along, wasn’t I? You didn’t upgrade Van Doren out of the goodness of your heart, so my workers and I could have better jobs. You did it so you could buy it.”

  “It either goes under now, while we can still get a profit, or you’re put out of business in less than ten years and have to slowly fire everyone. Is that what you want?”

  “Oh, you’ll get your profits!” she snapped. “That’s the only thing you care about. Everything you’ve done has been to gain my trust, so you could use it against me. So you could get my company and sell it!”

  “At least I pay attention to facts, all right? Rather than just bury my head in the sand about where the economy is going!”

  “There won’t be an economy if you put everyone out of a job!” Faith scoffed. “Cubby, me, Jack, and everyone else. You’ll cripple Chelsea if you do this. How could you? It’s just so cold.”

  “Yeah, well you think nice is better than being realistic. Just try to be nice to the banks who keep demanding a mortgage you can’t pay. See what they say!”

  “You’re wrong. Van Doren is important enough to help and do everything we can to keep it around. It’s worth it!”

  “Faith, you’re saving a sinking ship. That’s not worth your time. Just get out while you can and let it drown.”

  She glared at him, then
got off her barstool and marched to her front door.

  “I suggest you get out while you can. I asked you days ago to leave. You’re not welcome here or in Chelsea ever again.”

  “And if Van Doren goes under?”

  She grabbed the doorknob and flung the door open. “Like you care! You’ll be just as rich and alone as you are now!”

  He stormed past her and out the door. Let her have the last word. She was delusional and she didn’t understand how the world really worked. He was tired of trying to get along with her. And so what about the stupid bet?

  Ricky was right. Time to cut his losses and leave Chelsea forever.

  He slammed his truck door behind him, gunned it, and sped away from Faith.

  Faith slammed the front door behind him, shaking she was so mad. This was not how she thought her morning would go. She woke up deliriously, angelically happy after having this stunning night with Tristan only to discover that he was just wearing this mask the whole time to gain her trust, so he could then buy her company. At no point along the way had he ever been sincere. Every word out of his charming mouth was just to manipulate her.

  Ugh!

  He’d fooled her, and his ability to fool her had actually made her like him. A lot. A lot more than she realized. She hadn’t just wanted to make love to him last night. She’d wanted to be with him always. They had this astonishing physical chemistry, but during the day, their mental sparks flew and they were just so well matched. She hadn’t found that with any other guy here in Chelsea, and she wouldn’t again.

  They’d had an amazing week together, better than she’d spent in years and years. She’d caught a glimpse of the future with him, and it was one she wanted, too. But they just couldn’t make it work if he was going to be so insincere all the time. He was also making choices that would make him unhappier in the long run. He shouldn’t be using his smarts and leadership skills to just run good companies into the ground. He should be with her and they could work together to help not just Van Doren, but maybe other businesses, too.

  She sighed. If she had his wealth, she’d do great things with it.

  Well, good riddance to Tristan Booker. She had to be realistic, like he said, and just tell herself that he cared about numbers more than people. More than her. That’s really what it came down to.

  Faith knew it was more than that, but it still hurt. She looked around her house, and she didn’t want to stay here today. It was a gorgeous autumn Saturday. Even if people like Tristan were doing selfish things with their lives, she wanted to do the opposite. She wasn’t competitive like he was. She liked cooperation.

  She made a hasty call to Cubby, not even realizing what she was going to ask until she had. After she hung up with him, she felt better. He was about to head over to his son Wyatt’s farm to help with the apple picking. They would gladly accept Faith’s help.

  As she waited for Cubby to pick her up as her truck was still parked at Van Doren, she mulled things over in her head. Tristan had played her to get what he wanted and been insincere every step of the way.

  It hurt and she was so glad she wouldn’t see him again. She’d been happier without him.

  Chapter 14

  Tristan was frowning. But it wasn’t because of the view. That was stunning. The Colorado Rockies rose up in all their snow-peaked glory. Golden aspen trees were growing as far as the eye could see. The Alpine Bank office was beautifully situated in its gorgeous natural setting.

  Tristan was standing at the large windows, arms crossed, his back to the men behind him. The bank manager lounged behind his expensive desk, while Ricky leaned casually against the wall. Jack Lawton sat in the single chair across from the bank manager. His thick beard was streaked with gray. An old time outdoors guy, he wore his own handmade pair of dark leather Aspen Company boots, scuffed from years spent hiking up his favorite peaks. Ricky thought the guy might be a hard sell, but Tristan knew better. Just dangle words like “craftsmanship,” “legacy,” and “new steps forward.” Mr. Lawton had inherited this company from his own family and still couldn’t resist both Tristan’s sale pitch and the millions.

  It was all too easy to swoop in here and deliver the same old drivel Tristan had delivered a hundred times before. Just a matter of drawing up the paperwork, which the bank manager was doing right now. Just a week ago, Tristan would have loved this. It was so easy, he would have thought it was amazing. Score one for Tris!

  But now? His frown deepened. He was thinking of Rebecca Eastman, who called him a shark and didn’t want her father’s grocery store chain sold off to Walmart. He was thinking of Faith’s warm body, soft skin, and steady breathing beside him in bed. How good her kisses tasted.

  “Just how many hikes a year do you take, Mr. Lawton?”

  Ricky’s voice was irritating Tristan. This small talk was annoying. Everything about standing here and being here was making his skin crawl. Wait, why was this happening? Was Tristan Booker growing a conscience?

  His eyes widened and he stared at his reflection in the window’s glass.

  “Just got back from North Maroon Bells. A fourteener.”

  “Fourteener?” Ricky asked.

  “Fourteen thousand feet.”

  Tristan had had enough. He suddenly turned around, barreled past Ricky, and went right up to Jack, placing his back squarely to the bank manager. Startled, Jack peered up at him.

  “Mr. Lawton.” Tristan couldn’t believe he was about to do this, but he was just sick and tired of this whole charade.

  “Yeah?”

  “When was your company founded?”

  “1870. Colorado wasn’t even a state then.”

  “You’ve had such a long, long history. In fact, this company is older than Aspen. The town came later.”

  “Yep.”

  “You employ how many people?”

  Jack kept eye contact with him. “Nine hundred and twenty.”

  “Nine hundred and twenty people. Do you know how much this will impact Aspen, to lose a business it’s been proud of the entire time it’s been here?” Tristan grabbed his iPad and started pulling up screen after screen. “Look at this, Jack. Look at the hundreds of positive reviews. People pass your boots down from father to son. They’re given as wedding gifts. Your boots are heirlooms. There’s even a pair in the History Colorado Center worn by a silver miner in the 1880s.”

  Jack was silent. So was Ricky. It was his turn to frown. But he was keeping his mouth shut.

  “My point is, sir, that I want you to reconsider.”

  “I’ve already signed, Mr. Booker.”

  “I know.” The bank manager started to protest, but Tristan quieted him. “But do you know what my firm will do to your boot company? We’ll sell them to Amazon. Somebody will buy your business, and your boots will be made overseas as cheaply as possible. They’ll do it as long as they can, but they won’t do it as well as you. Eventually, they won’t make a profit. Your boots will be gone. Forever.”

  “Mr. Lawton,” Ricky finally cut in, “Mr. Booker is having jet lag. Can you excuse us?”

  Ricky fairly broke Tristan’s wrist dragging him out the bank door. Out on the sidewalk, Tristan gulped the thin mountain air. He felt light-headed while Ricky ranted.

  “What the hell are you doing?” his partner and best friend demanded. “I want my friend Tristan back. You know, the guy who goes for the numbers and scores ‘em every single time? We’ve already got this in the bag. Are you seriously trying to sabotage us now? At this stage!”

  “But this is different. This is an older company — ”

  “That’s what we do, Tristan! We buy small businesses with a loyal customer base. People aren’t loyal to Amazon or Walmart. But that’s what the big dogs are looking for. That’s how we built the Booker Firm.”

  “Then maybe the firm needs to change.”

  Ricky’s eyes bulged. “Why would we? Why would you?”

  “Ricky.” Tristan didn’t want to say it, but he had to. “If you disa
gree with how I want the Booker Firm to change, then you can go.”

  “We haven’t discussed this, Tris. And even if we did, we’d need lawyers to change the firm’s company policies.” Ricky wiped his face. “Anyway, forget that. Let’s just get through this and head back to New York. You can keep your lousy five million bet. That’s what this was all about, anyway.”

  He stomped back inside the bank office.

  It took a long while for Tristan to follow him.

  “Five dollars, please.” Faith smiled and took Charlie’s money. “Thanks!”

  “You have a good day, Faith.”

  He smiled and took the apple bushel away with him back to his truck. The Brennan Farm was busy with plenty of customers, including several dozen who worked at Van Doren. It helped take Faith’s mind off Tristan’s sudden and hurtful departure that morning. It also made her realize that she was right. Every single person who came to the farm today had a connection to her company. Their extra pocket money helped out the farm, and the farm provided not just local food, but shipped their dairy products to restaurants and grocery stores in the tri-state area. Without Van Doren, the farm would suffer. They wouldn’t be the only ones, too.

  During a break, she confessed to Cubby what Tristan had said.

  “I just can’t forgive him for trying to buy it. That’s all he wanted to do.” She shook her head. “I was a damn fool.”

  “Eh. I wouldn’t have sold it to him, and neither would you. I’ve been around a long time, Faith. I’ve met men like Tristan. He thinks he’s being worldly and staying on top of market fluctuations.”

  “Is he right, though? Now I’m scared to death Van Doren only has a few years before it goes under.”

  “We did our highest profits in the mid-nineties, and it’s been steadily going down ever since. I do everything I can to keep it afloat. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I’m not retiring. Yet.”