Tributary: A Billionaire Romance (Oak Creek Book 2)

by Lainey Davis

  “I’m gonna beep,” Indigo says.

  “Yes!” Abigail starts clapping her hands. “Maybe he can let me in to pee!”

  “No, absolutely not. Jesus Christ, Indigo, no! Abigail, we’re like a block away from your house.” But my protests are in vain, because Sara leans over and presses on the horn.

  The tiny little electric car has a tiny little horn, but in this quiet town, late at night, it might as well have been a bomb detonating.

  I try to open the door and escape, but too late I remember that the doors are kiddie locked. Sara starts honking out a “shave and a haircut” rhythm, and I groan when I see the front door open and Asa Wexler poke out his dark, beautiful head.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Asa

  I SPEND MY afternoon in meetings with Rose Mitchell at Oak Creek College. The faculty I’ve sponsored are doing some pretty amazing shit. But what really surprises me are the ideas I hear around town.

  I feel like a local walking back toward my house. I drop in at the little market on Main Street to grab some food and the woman at the counter ushers me around the store until I have three reusable bags full of snacks I never heard of and tiny packaged meals that seem mostly to be made from kale. Along the way, Mary Pat talks about her social media ideas and promotions at the co-op. The town people are cooperative owners, who volunteer there periodically. She also sells products on consignment to support local small businesses, like the witch hazel astringent Diana makes. I get lost in her passion for the business and don’t even realize when she walks me outside.

  The whole town feels charming and homey. Even though I’ve lived in the same part of New York City my entire life, the storefronts keep changing. The flood of people makes it impossible to stop and say hello, even if I do see someone I recognize. Here, I get a hearty handshake from Matthew the solar engineer, and he helps me carry my stuff while he asks if I’ve got solar panels installed on the house he somehow knew I just bought.

  By the time I get home, it actually feels like that: home. Once I catch up on email and finish with paperwork, I look around my new digs. I’ve bought a few of these crash pads—I’ve got a place in San Francisco, a penthouse in Chicago, and a brownstone in Boston. I can’t even remember the addresses on most of them, let alone piece together positive memories there. Here, with the window cracked open, I can hear the bubbling water of Oak Creek flow past my backyard.

  I can see a neglected rose garden from the previous owner that will, no doubt, bloom fantastically in a few months. And I feel surprised by the urge to be here and see it. This house, this town, and these people feel like home to me in a way I’ve never experienced. They’re interested in talking to me, not finding out who my father golfs with or which club my mother joins.

  I pop my organic, grass-fed freezer meal in the microwave and change into sweats, stripping out of my button-down. The new couch still has the plastic on from delivery, and I rip that off before sinking down into it. The absolute decadence of watching reality tv in leisure clothes is so addictive, it’s dark outside before a sound jolts me back to reality.

  I hear a horn honking outside, persistently. The singularity of it delights me at first. A single horn! At home, the cacophony of honks persists around the clock in all corners of Manhattan, and I would never notice an individual car horn. Here, it is clearly an anomaly and I wonder which of my neighbors is failing to come outside and acknowledge their ride. It beeps for several minutes before I finally stick my head outside to see what all the ruckus is about.

  An electric car is parked at the curb and I can hear a rash of giggles from inside the vehicle. There seems to be a commotion inside, and I approach the driver side, curious. Squinting in the street light, I see the car is filled with women and…I see Abigail Baker in the back alongside Diana.

  The driver slides her window down and leans out of the car. “Hi there!” She says, cheerfully. “I’m Indigo from the Inn! We haven’t met yet but I know you have a magic tongue.”

  “Jesus fucking Christ, Indigo! I hate you!” Diana screeches from the back seat as my chest swells with pride. She definitely talked about me to her friends. I notice Diana struggling with the door and I reach for the handle to help her.

  I give it a tug and she tumbles out into my arms, a mess of hair and beer breath and soft, worn denim. I’m in no hurry to set her upright on the sidewalk, keeping my arms around her waist as she finds her feet. Indigo leans out of the car again. “Diana here needs a hand getting home. Would you be a dear and help her? By the time I drive Abigail up the street, it’ll be way past my pregnant bedtime.” She flutters her eyelids at me as Sara shakes with laughter in the passenger seat.

  Diana growls and tries to stomp down the sidewalk, but I reach for her arm as she trips on the uneven pavement. “I would be happy to see her home safely,” I say, grinning.

  “Thanks! Use a condom!” Indigo cackles and peals out, driving up a block before screeching to a halt in front of Hunter and Abigail’s house. I can hear all of them laughing as they help Abigail inside, but Diana is struggling in my arms and I need to focus.

  “Look, let me just grab some shoes and I’ll walk you home,” I say.

  “You’re not coming to my house,” she mutters. She tries to blow her hair out of her eyes and mouth, but it seems sticky and tangled and she just keeps puffing at it uselessly.

  “Want to come in for a glass of water then? I think I have glasses…”

  “Ha!” She starts up the walk toward the front door. “Of course you wouldn’t even know if you have glasses.” She strides right inside and huffs, looking around. She stumbles into the kitchen and puts her mouth under the faucet for a good long while. She stands and wipes her mouth with her wrist as I stare at her. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted the Espenshade house for myself?”

  “I take it this is the Espenshade house?”

  She scoffs. “I didn’t even realize Mr. Espenshade was looking to sell. He must have snuck off to Arizona to live with his grandkids in the dead of night.” She runs her hand along the counter. “How did you slither in and buy this place so fast?”

  I shrug. “I pay cash.” She doesn’t say anything, and I walk around beside her to grab a glass from the cupboard. I fill it with cold water from the fridge door and hand the glass to Diana.

  “Thank you,” she says, her voice softer. She drinks for awhile and we make eye contact. The hair on my arms rises and I can feel the electricity between us. I have no idea why she’s so fired up, but I love this about her. I love almost everything about her.

  “I keep trying to hate you,” she says, leaning back against the counter, plunking the empty glass in the sink.

  “How’s that working out for you?” She shrugs. “Did you ever plant the hops?”

  Her eyes brighten at that. “I did,” she says. “And they’re fabulous. Didn’t I show you today? They’re in my grow room. I’ve got something special aging from them right now, actually. It’ll be ready in May…I guess I should send you a bottle.”

  “Seems fair,” I say, risking the chance to reach out and tuck her hair back behind her ear, smoothing it back behind her shoulder. “Or I could come back and drink it with you here.”

  Diana is quiet for a minute. I enjoy the chance to just stand with her, peacefully. I can feel a charge between us, pulsing, but she seems so hesitant behind her glassy eyes.

  “I never thought you’d help dig a chicken grave,” she says, letting me play with her hair, her breath quivering a bit as I keep running my fingers through her wavy locks.

  “I never thought I’d get so turned on watching a woman slaughter a bird,” I tell her. This time I let my hand rest on her shoulder, moving my body closer to hers. I let the heat build between us until I see her shiver. But I know she’s drunk, and I can’t do anything more than I am right now. “Will you let me walk you home? I want to make sure you get back safely.”

  She shrugs. I look around for a pair of shoes and realize I have nothing more casu
al than a pair of loafers. We both laugh as I slide into them with my sweats and undershirt. I reach for her hand and we walk out the front door. She fingers the hedge that stops by my sidewalk.

  “Who should I hire to take care of it for me when I’m not here,” I ask her, wanting this to be an ok question. Wanting her to see that I want to take care of this house here as best as I know how. Which is to pay the correct person for the job.

  “Hmm.” She seems to think about this for a long time and then she pats my arm. “You should ask my dad, actually. He’s amazing with roses.”

  “I’ll do that. Maybe after the party I’ll say something to him.” We walk quietly for a bit, back toward Main Street and the square of storefronts surrounding the library. The amphitheater outside is decorated for Hunter’s party, with banners and twinkle lights. Rented tables and chairs line all the public spaces, ready to serve up heaps of food and welcome home this town’s latest hero.

  Diana lets me hold her hand until we get to her shop. Then she stiffens and starts reaching for her keys. “Well, this is me.”

  “I know that, Diana.” I help her line the key up with the lock and she stares daggers at me until I turn my head away while she enters her security code. “You’ve got a pretty sweet security system for a girl who thinks this town is so safe,” I comment.

  Her eyes meet mine and even in the dark, I can see a flash of hurt there. “Hey,” I say, “come on. Let me walk you up the stairs to your apartment.” She hesitates, but I persist. “I won’t come inside, but I just want to make sure you get up the stairs. You’re a little unsteady on your feet.”

  Diana sighs deeply and then shrugs. I follow her up the back stair way and we pause on a cheery landing outside her second-floor apartment. Moonlight floods in through the window and she fishes out her keys again. They seem perpetually lost in the cavernous pockets of her vest. I love that she doesn’t carry a tiny little handbag.

  I swallow, waiting for her to send me away, wondering how I’ll walk away from her. She doesn’t say anything or move to unlock the door. I lean in slowly, placing a hand on her cheek. Softly, gently I caress her jaw line with my thumb. I can see her pulse tick in her throat, practically hear her blood sing, and I lean in to press a soft kiss against her lips. Her skin is cold from walking outside in the crisp air, but her lips soon warm and move against mine.

  I break the kiss and she moans softly, her eyes wide and her body leaning closer to mine. “Goodnight, Dr. Crawford,” I whisper.

  I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles, taking the key from her slack fingers and opening her door for her. She steps inside and looks over her shoulder at me. Lord, if she weren’t drunk right now, I’d tackle her to the hardwood floor. “Goodnight, Asa,” she says, and I laugh when she kicks the door shut in my face.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Diana

  I WAKE UP to a flood of text messages shaking my phone until it falls off the night stand. I groan as I roll over to retrieve it from the floor. Indigo and Sara, then Abigail, then Enid and Aneke, whose husband evidently hung out with Asa yesterday and did a hard sell on some solar panels for the Espenshade house.

  I wonder briefly how long it will take for people to call it the Wexler house now that he owns it. Then I set about texting my friends a selfie of myself giving them all the finger. I refuse to respond to any of their questions about whether I slept in my bed or his. Did they really expect me to tango with that man after several pitchers of Tessy’s strongest suds?

  I slam the button on the coffee pot and quickly get dressed. I promised my family I’d help them get everything set up for Hunter’s party. My mom isn’t used to Hunter having a partner who actually cares about him returning…she was always the one to go and fetch him from his missions, so Ma is getting out her anxious energy through twinkle lights and celestial decorations.

  Of course my dork brother is coming back from space the day of the Spring Equinox, and the whole town has revived their forgotten Equinox traditions. The ladies from the crystal shop are organizing an egg hunt, and all the eggs have glow-in-the-dark stars inside that the kids are supposed to stick to the walls in their bedrooms.

  The yoga ladies are planning hundreds of sun salutations outside. I lift the corner of the curtain to confirm that yes, they are out there already with yoga mats in the middle of Main Street. Half of them are barefoot. I shiver, wondering how cold the pavement feels at this hour, but they seem sort of zen as they bend and flow.

  I chug down my coffee and walk over to meet my parents, who are tacking up welcome home banners in the giant refreshment tent, where a bunch of Sapling kids are lining up my special beer in galvanized tubs full of ice.

  “Hey, pumpkin,” my dad says, planting a kiss on the top of my head. “Do me a favor and help boss around the sound guys? They’re setting up the stage for the band.”

  The more I walk around, the more I realize everyone has everything under control. The town has been transformed in just a few hours. Garlands and paper decorations hug the utility poles. Matthew and Aneke are setting up the giant lift from the solar shop, and instead of hoisting new solar panels, they’re dangling a giant, sequined sun and moon.

  I sigh, and sneak back into my shop to check on all my plants. I feel restless, not because I’m worried about my brother, but because of Asa. That man has me all turned around. My heart almost stopped when he offered to invest in my business. I should probably have talked to Archer and Sara about options, but of course my snap reaction is to yell at him. I can’t even fantasize about what it would look like to suddenly have the capital I need for my certification. What would the strings be if I took Asa’s money? What would that mean for our…do we have a relationship? We have hot sex, and I can’t even manage to lie to myself about wanting more of that. My god, that man can kiss.

  It’s better to distract myself with my work. I promised I’d sort out the future after Hunter’s party, when I can sit with Archer and figure out how far I am from bankruptcy. I give the medicinal plants a thorough going over and then decide to set some witch hazel to steep. Each time I finish another task, I remember something else I wanted to try with my hops, and I lose track of the time until I hear the bell jingle above the front door.

  I pop my head up and see Asa Wexler looking fine in designer jeans and an untucked button down. I remember how much finer he looked last night in his gray sweats, and I flush just as he says my name. “Thought maybe you’d be holed up in here,” he says. “Don’t you want to enjoy the party?”

  “I lost track of time,” I say, trying to smooth out my shirt, sighing as I notice streaks of dirt on my jeans. “Is Hunter back yet?”

  He shakes his head. “Judging by the countdown clock on the library, we’ve got about a half hour til he and Abigail roll up. I think Moorely has a GPS tracker on her car…” He drifts off and reaches out to gently rub a thumb across my face.

  I inhale sharply, and lift my hand to my cheek. It feels like his touch has seared my flesh. He makes me actually want to swoon, and it feels like I’ve got birds flying inside my stomach when he smiles at me.

  “You had some dirt, just there,” he says, smiling. “But I like it.” And when he leans in for a kiss, I’m not sure why I let him. Like it’s so natural, for him to peck me lightly on the mouth. And it does feel natural, like I could get used to this.

  I realize if I’m not careful, I will get used to it. And I sure as hell don’t want to give Asa Wexler the kind of power to yank away something meaningful to me. This is why I need to push him away.

  Still, when he tugs on my hand and nods his head toward the party, I follow along with him. “Just let me lock up,” I tell him. He nods and gives me space, looks out the front window while I set the alarms. I like watching him sniffing things.

  “Hurry up,” he says. “We already missed the egg hunt.” Smiling, we walk outside as kids stuff their pockets with stars and line up for lemonade.

  Asa leads me to a bench near the stage, and we sit for
awhile, listening to the bluegrass band. Enid, in uniform, wanders over and sits next to me. “Is it too early for beer,” she asks.

  “Ha! Are you allowed while you’re on duty?”

  She shrugs. “I’m only on duty because Ed Hastings is upset that there is beer.”

  Asa, intrigued, leans forward. “What’s with this town and the alcohol laws? Can it really be true that Oak Creek is dry?”

  Enid laughs. “I know you’re from New York, where they sell beer at the grocery store. But this is Pennsylvania. The whole state has inane laws about booze and brothels. Ed is finicky, and makes sure the letter of every law is followed.”

  I lean back as Enid and Asa swap tales about how many college students can live in an apartment building before it’s considered a bordello and why we’re allowed to give away my home brew at Hunter’s party as long as no money changes hands.

  Asa seems so at ease here and I can tell he’s truly paying attention as Enid talks. I start to realize I have potentially misjudged him, always assuming he must be a ruthless shark to have accumulated so much wealth, to have convinced so many businesses to sign over ownership in exchange for his seed money. But really, nothing I’ve seen him do or say fits that profile. Maybe, I decide, Asa isn’t just trying to get into my pants. Maybe the bastard actually is a nice guy.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Asa

  THIS EQUINOX FESTIVAL turns out to be delightful. It reminds me of a Purim festival my nanny took me to when I was a kid—everyone in costumes, running around with cotton candy and cookies.

  I can tell half the town is staring as I situate myself protectively close to Diana Crawford, which means I’m succeeding in signaling that I’m laying claim to her. I saw hints and glimpses of her breaking down her defenses last night, and I’m more determined than ever to convince her to give me a proper chance. If she’s got trust issues, well then I’m going to prove my trustworthiness one inch at a time until she at least gives me her phone number. Then maybe we can progress to spending the night together. The entire night, next time.