by Mia Caldwell
Billionaires Don’t Like Nice Girls
Mia Caldwell
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Epilogue
All About Mia
Copyright Information
“From what we get, we can make a living;
what we give, however, makes a life.”
— Arthur Ashe
Chapter 1
THE OPERATION HAD PROCEEDED AS expected until Phae heard the distinctive crunch of feet stepping on gravel. She adjusted her head gear as she peered around the yard.
No night in the history of humankind could have been darker than this one. No moon graced the clear sky and the streetlights had been taken out by a robust burst of heat lightning.
Everything would have been perfect except her night vision monocle had gone blinky when she needed it most. Typical.
Phae impatiently tapped on the plastic casing, wishing for the hundredth time that she could afford something better.
The night scene flickered off and on in sickly shades of green. After one more tap on the side of the monocle, the yard finally came into steady, albeit blurry, view.
Phae scanned her surroundings but saw nothing unusual. Cautiously, she stepped to her left for a better view of the gravel driveway beside the house—nothing but Miss Eugenia’s ancient Dodge.
Phae didn’t doubt what she’d heard. In her experience, once she started doubting her senses she might as well pack it in and go home.
Trust your instincts, she told herself. The sound of shoes on gravel is unmistakable. No dog, cat or other furry animal could make that noise.
She waited it out. And then she finally saw him.
The man appeared silently from around the other side of the house. She couldn’t discern any of his features, but she could tell that he was big … scary big. When he looked directly at her, her heart began a fierce pounding even though he couldn’t possibly see her.
Had she been discovered? Had she been heard going about her work? Impossible. Miss Eugenia lived alone, and judging from the way the man moved quietly and stealthily, Phae determined he must be an intruder.
Everything she had wanted to do this evening was now ruined, cancelled because of this large, menacing man. Damn.
She wondered what he planned to do, then decided it didn’t matter. He was skulking where he shouldn’t have skulked and one way or another she would stop him, his intentions be damned.
She formulated a plan. Her only weapon was a stun gun. Unfortunately, she’d never used it before, and since she’d bought it and the blinky night-vision monocle from the same company, she wasn’t certain she should trust it.
Be creative and think fast, she thought as the man crept toward Miss Eugenia’s back door.
Silently, Phae removed the pack from her waist and pulled out a long nylon cord. She slunk to a bird feeder and secured the rope to the base about a foot off the ground.
She then made her way down the yard to an ornate birdbath and secured the other end of the rope there.
The man had nearly reached the back door.
All she needed now was the brawny thug’s attention. She smiled, picked up a dry twig and snapped it in half.
The man immediately stiffened. Come on, big guy, she thought.
As expected, the man moved in her direction. He approached her trip line.
Crouched low, muscles tensed, she waited. He was walking much too carefully to trip and fall, but she only needed him to drop his guard for a second, then he would be hers.
Distances were hard to estimate with the blurry monocle. He was close, maybe fifteen feet away. She took a deep, steadying breath. Five more feet and he would hit the rope.
Phae nearly gasped aloud when she heard a noisy thump to her right. She gritted her teeth when she turned and saw a big tomcat settle himself on the lid of Miss Eugenia’s compost bin.
The stupid cat must have jumped off the fence, she thought, watching in frustration as the man soundlessly walked toward the bin.
She watched with surprise as the cat leapt off the bin, walked up to the man and let loose a gigantic meow before rubbing against his legs. The man jerked, then chuckled and bent down to pet the animal.
Huh. A burglar and an animal lover. People’s morals often mystified Phae.
“You’ve given me a run for my money tonight, haven’t you?” the man asked in a silken, deep voice.
Phae soundlessly pounded once on the soft grass beside her as she watched the man give the cat a final pat before turning toward the house. No twig snap would stop him this time, not with that cat around.
He was beside Miss Eugenia’s t-shaped clothesline pole when Phae hopped up in desperation and dashed forward to gain the man’s attention.
“Hey, buddy,” she said in the lowest, most masculine bass she could muster.
Phae didn’t know it, but she’d just changed the course of her life.
Chapter 2
“GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE,” SYLVIE ANNOUNCED as she breezed into the beauty shop, the small bells over the door chiming wildly.
Shear Stylin’ was clean and inviting as usual, its bright blue awning colorful in the morning light. The shop sat on a busy, quaint street in downtown Zeke’s Bend, sandwiched between an antique (second hand) store and a small pharmacy that still had a soda fountain. For a small town, this was prime real estate.
Phae leaned over a sink and didn’t glance up from the combs she’d been scrubbing. “You know I can’t stand that happy-assed attitude this early in the morning.”
“Ah, Phae. It’s such a pleasure working with you. I mean, thanks to you, I get to be a Mary Poppins kind of person. With anyone else, well, I’d just be normal.”
Phae didn’t acknowledge the dig.
Sylvie hummed as she fluffed her short frosted-tipped hair in front of one of the large mirrors which covered most of one wall.
Phae leveled a long-suffering look at her. “Very funny. I get it. It’s that ‘Spoonful of Sugar’ song from Mary Poppins. Ha-ha. Hilarious.”
Sylvie grinned. “It helps the medicine go down, you know. Sugar, that is. It also helps you catch more flies.”
“That’s honey.”
“Whatever.” Sylvie fussed with her ample cleavage.
Phae loved her cousin, but thought she was far too girly. Sylvie was a curvy girl and took pride in every hill and valley of her voluptuous landscape. Her nails were always perfect, her hair styled, her makeup and clothes as much in fashion as she could afford.
“Your hair looks fine, as always. Quit torturing it,” Phae said, not caring that she sounded grumpy as hell.
Phae rinsed the combs and let Sylvie rattle on. She’d heard this particular lecture a thousand times.
“After all,” Sylvie continued, “our customers need to have confidence in my abilities and I can’t think of a better way to reassure them than with my own appearance. You, that’s a completely different thing. You worry about songs and flies, while your hair … well, I hate to be rude, but did you even pat that rats’ nest down before you tied it up in a ponytail?”
Phae sensed she should have been offended to have her hair referred to as a rodent’s lair. She finished rinsing the combs and dumped them into the nearby glass decanter.
“Well?” Sylvie asked, hands on her hips.
Phae glanced at herself in the mirror. Her hair did look awful. She turned her head to the side to get a better view of the lumpy bumps of black hair bunching behind the ponytail holder.
Okay, it stunk. She smiled. But she had no intention of admitting it.
“Whatever,” she said, then began to fold the clean towels she’d dumped into the hydraulic chair earlier.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Sylvie marched over to Phae and grabbed the towel out of her hand. “Sit down and let me do something with this mess.”
Phae reluctantly let Sylvie push her into the other chair, knowing from experience she’d never win this battle. “Fine. But don’t do something too fru-fru with it.”
She braced herself for Sylvie’s chatter. Once that girl touched hair, no power in the world could stay the chitchat.
“You have such gorgeous hair.” She began poking and picking and fluffing and pulling. “But it would be nicer if you’d spend a few minutes on it. And those nails—all short and unpainted. It’s like you’re not even a sister, cousin.”
“Stereotypes, Sylvie,” Phae warned. “Watch it.”
Sylvie wasn’t put off by the reprimand. “I think I should braid it, then you won’t have to mess with it hardly at all. Ooh, yes, braids. Don’t have time now, of course. How about this weekend?”
“I told you and told you, it hurts my head.”
“What a baby. There’s a price to pay for beauty.”
“And I’m too broke to pay it.”
Her cousin sighed, put out with Phae’s lack of commitment. “Well, I’ll do something with it so you don’t frighten off business. How about a twist? That would be gorgeous and look so classy.”
“I’m at work, not the grand opera.”
“You’re a difficult customer, Phae, and you know it. I’ll figure out something.” Sylvie smiled and batted her long eyelashes. “So I’m sitting at home last night waiting for Alan to call and tell me when he’d pick me up. He said he would and I believed him, like the idiot I am. I should have gone out with Neesa, but I didn’t. I waited all night and the jerk never called or answered my texts. I mean, he’s a chiropractor. Shouldn’t a doctor be honorable and trustworthy?”
Since Sylvie had stopped separating Phae’s hair, Phae assumed an answer was required. “Yes?” She hoped that was the right answer. Phae didn’t like Alan, never had, and wished Sylvie would blow him off. She knew better than to say it, though.
“Right,” Sylvie said. “I don’t get men … what they’re thinking, I mean. They say these things and don’t realize it’s important. Or maybe they get together and brag about how many women they’ve got waiting for calls every night. But that’s not what I wanted to tell you. While I was waiting, Neesa called and told me that ever since the Clip and Dip did the Janson wedding … you know how that worried me, and I was right because Neesa said that she overheard the Janson twins talking about how great their hair looked at the wedding and … I tell you, we’re going to lose business over this thing and I don’t know what we’re going to …”
Phae closed her eyes and tried to ignore Sylvie’s worrying. She tried to be sensitive because of Sylvie’s tough upbringing, her father abandoning her family when Sylvie was so young.
Still, it was hard to keep a level head when Sylvie was always terrified they were on the verge of financial disaster. Sylvie’s worries sometimes made Phae question her decision to take Sylvie on as a partner. Still, she had a way with hair. She cut hair with an abandon and easy skill that Phae envied.
Phae worked in a meticulous manner, or at least she tried. Somehow, though, her styles didn’t come out as well as she’d thought they should. Good thing she had so much family in Zeke’s Bend to take pity on her and bring her their business or she probably really would have gone broke.
“Are you asleep? Are you listening to me?” Sylvie asked.
Phae opened her eyes. “I didn’t sleep well last night. And yes, I heard. We’re two days away from homelessness. Got it.”
Sylvie smoothed her palms over Phae’s hair. “Okay, we’re done. I just need some product to control the frizzy fly-aways.”
Phae swiveled and jumped out of the chair. The last thing she needed was helmet head. “Think of those fly-aways as tendrils. My first appointment will be here any second and I’ve still got to fold the towels. Thanks for fixing me up.”
Sylvie shrugged. “You’re hopeless, cousin. So who’s on tap first this morning?”
“Miss Eugenia.”
Sylvie startled Phae by laughing. “Oh, that’s too good! I can’t wait until she gets here. She’ll give us the real scoop. First thing this morning Neesa called me and told me the news. Last night—”
The jingling of bells interrupted her story as Miss Eugenia entered the shop. Phae looked sharply at Sylvie to squelch her story. Phae knew where this one was going … straight in the direction of Miss Eugenia’s backyard garden.
Phae had spent most of the night lying awake, mentally re-running her encounter with the burglar.
Phae smiled at the tiny, white-haired lady. “Good morning, Miss Eugenia. What a lovely blue blouse you have on today. Come have a seat. I’m ready for you.”
Miss Eugenia didn’t return Phae’s smile, but she did seat herself. “It’s not a good morning, dear, though that’s not your fault.”
“I heard all about it, Miss Eugenia. How are you holding up?” Sylvie asked with far too much twinkle in her eyes.
“My dear, I’m at my wit’s end.” She sighed loudly. “But it’s Kent that I’m most worried about. The poor boy. Look what I’ve done to him. I feel terrible, Lord is my witness, I truly do.”
“But Miss Eugenia,” Sylvie said, “it’s not your fault. It’s that Captain Nice Guy. Sure, he’s done a lot of good things, but this time he messed up.”
I didn’t mess up, Phae thought. What were they talking about? And what happened to Miss Eugenia’s nephew, Kent?
Miss Eugenia frowned harder, doubling the wrinkles on her brow. “Captain who?”
“You know,” Sylvie said while settling herself into the other hydraulic chair. “That pretend superhero guy who’s been going around town doing all those good deeds. The newspaper has started calling him Captain Nice Guy. Ha-ha!”
“Oh him. He’s been around a long time,” Miss Eugenia said. “I’d forgotten that’s what they’ve been calling him lately. I’m very old. You’ll know what it’s like one day. Last night, the police called him the perpetrator.”
Perpetrator? What did she mean by that?
All three women looked toward the door as the tinkling bells proclaimed another patron. Neesa, another cousin and unofficial best friend to both Sylvie and Phae, strolled into the shop.
Neesa, Sylvie and Phae were all cousins of an age, twenty-six-ish, and had grown up together in Zeke’s Bend with the rest of the massive Jones family. The small, quaint town of 5,000 had been founded by one of the Jones’ ancestors.
In the mid-1800s, Zeke Jones had been a trapper and trader and settled at a bend in the Elk River during the off season to sell his goods to river travelers. Zeke got married eventually, had a family, more people moved in to the area, and eventually, it
became a town.
Phae loved Zeke’s Bend, having returned there from Chicago when life in the city didn’t work out after college. Coming home had seemed like failure at first, but now, she realized this was always where she’d been meant to be: surrounded by friends and family.
“Neesa!” Sylvie jumped out of the chair. “Sit down. Miss Eugenia is telling us all about what happened last night.”
Neesa gave Miss Eugenia a sympathetic smile while seating herself. “How is Kent doing this morning?”
The older lady’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. “The doctor said he’ll recover, but it will take some time. You should see him. It’s terrible. I blame myself. He would have been okay if I hadn’t been such a ninny about that garden. And you know how I worry about his health. He never complains, mind you. Insists he’s the very picture of health, brave thing. But I can see he’s actually a very sickly boy.”
Sylvie and Neesa nodded seriously while Phae clenched her hands tightly behind her back. Something awful must have happened. Did the burglar escape and attack Kent? How could that have happened? She’d tied the robber securely.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Sylvie said. “If that Captain Nice Guy hadn’t been out minding other people’s business, everything would have been all right.”
Neesa murmured her assent.
Miss Eugenia shook her head as vigorously as her eighty-two years allowed. “No, I can’t blame him. He’s helped many people around here and I can’t find it in myself to condemn him. He obviously thought he was doing a good deed. No, it’s all my fault. My dear Kent was beaten to unconsciousness because I overreacted.”
Phae kept her voice as calm as she could. “Maybe you could clarify this for me, Miss Eugenia. Exactly what happened? Did someone attack your nephew?”
Tears glistened once again in the elderly lady’s eyes. “I’m sorry dear. I didn’t realize you didn’t know. This Captain Nice Guy attacked my dear Kent last night. He smashed him over the head then tied him up like an animal to my old laundry line pole. It was dreadful. Then he called the police and told them my poor Kent was a criminal … Phae, you look … Sylvie, get a chair and some smelling salts. Fast! I think she’s going to faint.”