Goldie And The Billionaire Bear (Once Upon A Billionaire Book 1)

by Catelyn Meadows

  Goldie and the Billionaire Bear

  A Once Upon a Billionaire Romance

  Catelyn Meadows

  BOOKS BY CATELYN MEADOWS

  ONCE UPON A BILLIONAIRE SERIES

  Goldie and the Billionaire Bear

  Ella and the Billionaire’s Ball

  Alice and the Billionaire's Wonderland

  Rosabel and the Billionaire Beast

  Hazel and Her Billionaire Tower

  Aaliyah and the Billionaire's Lamp

  SUDDENLY YOURS SERIES

  Suddenly in Love

  Don't Kiss the Quarterback

  MAGIC VALLEY ROMANCE

  Billionaires and Big Deals

  CLEAN CHRISTMAS ROMANCE

  All I Want for Christmas

  Copyright © 2019 Cortney Pearson

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, printing, recording, or otherwise—without the prior permission of the author, except for use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, incidents, or events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Beta Read by Scarlett West

  Copy Edited/Proofread by Sara Olds with Salt & Sage Books

  Cover Design & Interior Formatting by Qamber Designs and Media

  Author Photo by Clayton Photo + Design

  www.catelynmeadows.blogspot.com

  For my mom. This entire idea would have never happened without you.

  CHAPTER ONE

  GOLDIE POUNDED HER FIST AGAINST the steering wheel in a moment of desperation. Sunlight glared beneath the line of her visor. She flipped it back into its place and raised her hand, attempting to block out some of the orange blinding her, all while keeping the rest of her attention for some sign on the side of the road that might give her an inkling of where she was.

  “Stupid GPS,” she grumbled to the maps app blaring on her phone. It usually was so trusty, so reliable. Good old Siri, telling her where to turn and when. Heaven knew she needed it. Squiggly lines on a map may as well have been a completely different language for all the good they did her. She could never keep her directions straight.

  There she’d been, on the freeway between Montana and Idaho, when Siri told her to take some random exit.

  So what did she do? She’d followed it. It had made no sense at the time. Why in the world would Siri tell her to turn off when she knew—she knew—she was headed in the right direction?

  “I should have followed my gut,” she went on, glowering at the lines and lines of pine trees stacked on either side of the road. The road curved again, and her hands turned the wheel to keep from veering off the asphalt. She couldn’t keep this up. She had to try to find her way back to the freeway again.

  Goldie pulled off onto the generous shoulder and checked for bars on her cell phone, but service was MIA out here, and her phone’s internet was being completely stubborn.

  Despair began to settle in. It wouldn’t be much longer before the sun’s orange rays sank completely behind the trees, leaving her in darkness. With no cell service, no map, and the line on her gas tank sinking cruelly closer to the little E, she was more lost than she could ever remember being.

  She could just hear her mother now. While her dad had always been helpful and encouraging, Goldie’s mom had always found her incompetency with directions irksome.

  If someone could tell her to turn left at the bank and stop at the house straight across from the elementary school, she was good to go. But north and south? What were they, other than the title of one of her favorite movies with a great kiss at the end?

  Goldie sighed and sank her head against the steering wheel. This was why she never went anywhere. This was why she stayed at home in Baldwin, Wisconsin, a rinky-dink little town where she’d known every landmark from the time she could spell the names.

  Until the letter arrived. The letter from a woman claiming to be her mother’s sister.

  Goldie couldn’t deny the lure of that letter. Her mom had no siblings—or so Goldie had always thought. Then who was this woman inviting her to meet her halfway across the country? She would have disregarded the letter completely if her mom hadn’t acted so plumb guilty about the thing when Goldie had asked her about it.

  “You are absolutely forbidden from going,” her mom had snarled on the phone. Like Goldie was still a teenager under her roof instead of a grown woman living on her own across town.

  Her mom’s defensive, angry reaction—and blatant lack of denial about her sister—had the opposite effect she’d clearly meant. It had sparked curiosity in Goldie. Her mom had a sister she’d hidden from her for her entire life? What was that all about?

  “So like a fool I’ve followed some crazy, wild goose chase,” Goldie growled. In frustration, she stepped out of the car and into the chilled air. It was so much colder on these winding mountain roads. Why had she ever gotten off the freeway?

  Goldie whirled around and rested against the side of her Toyota truck. It was perfect for a girl needing to get back and forth from the grocery store and her job.

  A job she’d taken a two-week break from for this.

  Two weeks. She was not off to a great start.

  The stars twinkled breathlessly above her. She couldn’t deny how enchanting it was. But she didn’t want enchanting. She wanted the peace of mind kind of relief that came with seeing the freeway, dang it. She scraped her hands through her hair and tromped a few feet away, needing to move, to think. To breathe.

  That was when she saw it.

  Tucked beyond the road, bathed in the last remaining slices of light, was a quaint, log cabin. Hope began to swell inside of her. If someone was there, they could tell her which way to go. They could help her get off this tangled forest road and back where she belonged. Maybe they even had some super sleuth, outdoorsy way to contact someone for help.

  Goldie didn’t dare drive as far as there. Knowing her luck, she’d lose sight of the cabin the instant she tried moving her truck. Instead, she retrieved her bag, lobbed it over her shoulder, and began the trudge through the brush.

  Despite the chill and the fading light, the air smelled amazing. Fresh pine and clean dirt, reminding her of home. Twigs cracked beneath her feet. She did her best to keep her eyes on the cabin ahead of her, using her cell as a flashlight in the darker places where the latticed trees above provided a little too much cover.

  “Whew,” she said as she approached the cabin’s door. It was a single-level structure, Lincoln logs blown life-sized, with a slanted roof and an awning over the door. Not the kind of getaway most families would use. More like a rustic, romantic escape, tucked away like a secret.

  She bit her lip and knocked.

  There was no answer.

  Goldie sighed and stared at the last dregs of amber light sinking behind the horizon. Fade, fade, fade. She had the weirdest urge to reach her hand toward the light like a dying heroine in a movie. Like that would do any good. Within moments, she was surrounded by darkness.

  “Well, that’s just great,” she mumbled. Leave it to her to not only get lost on the road, but then leave that road and get lost in the woods to boot!

  Chirruping noises came from the trees, accompanied by the occasional scuffle of some kind of critter that could undoubtedly see her, even if she couldn’t
see it.

  She knocked again, pounding her fist on the door. “Hello? Anyone in there?”

  The dead cabin windows stared at her in reply.

  Goldie plopped her bag down on the wooden planks serving as a porch. She tromped to the window and peered inside. Through a small crack in the curtain, she saw more blackness.

  Perfect. Just perfect. Little Miss No Luck stuck out here, in the woods, in the dark. She checked her cell again, but there was exactly the same zero service there’d been the last time she tried. Even if she did have service, her aunt had only given her an address and an email. No number.

  “I can’t stand around here all night,” she mused, feeling the very depths of hopelessness.

  As far as she could tell, she had two options. She could attempt to make it back to her truck, but that could only make things worse than they already were if she got lost again. Or, she could rough it out here in the cold air. Slinking against the porch with her arms folded, she was too afraid to sleep for fear of who knew what lived out here. She hadn’t heard a wolf howl yet—thank you very much, Pocahontas—but she didn’t want to discount the fact that there could be very silent, very hungry wolves stalking her right this second.

  There was only one thing for it.

  “Great.” Using the dwindling battery life on her phone, she shined a light toward the door once more. She reached for the handle. It didn’t budge. Fighting away despair, she reached again, clicking down the latch, jiggling it, ramming her shoulder in for good measure.

  The shoulder was the trick. The door swung open.

  CHAPTER TWO

  THE FARTHER ADRIAN DROVE, FOLLOWING turns through Montana’s mountainous terrain, the deeper his dread grew. His family’s cabin was the last place he wanted to be. Bad memories, conversations, experiences he’d suppressed for years, were perking their annoying heads at the sight of every new tree. To anyone else, he was sure the view was spectacular, but to Adrian it was only arguments and disappointments that had caused him to leave in the first place.

  Adrian slowed at the next bend. He didn’t need any kind of direction to tell him he was getting closer. Even though it’d been years since he’d been to the cabin, the way there was instinctive. It surprised him after all this time, but the truth was he could probably find it in his sleep.

  The road widened momentarily, allowing space for a small white Toyota pulled off to the side. It was abandoned, from the look of things, unless someone was having some car trouble. Adrian slowed, pulling to a stop beside it and glanced around. No owner stood nearby. No hood gaped open or other sign of need. In fact, there wasn’t anyone in sight.

  Probably just a sightseer, he decided. Or maybe some hikers. This particular route was popular with off roaders and even mountain bikers, too. It was completely possible they’d hauled their bikes from the truck bed and were out enjoying the scenery.

  Shrugging it off, Adrian pulled forward and followed the hidden curve in the trees, so often missed by passersby. The road turned from pavement to dirt, and he settled in for the bumpy jaunt that would lead to his least favorite place in the whole world.

  The Hummer he’d rented took to the road better than he expected. An SUV wasn’t typically the kind of car he drove, but he liked its military style, its abundant storage and comfortable seating so much, he was thinking of buying one to add to his collection once he got back to Chicago.

  Lofty and solemn, the cabin came into view through a break in the trees. The exposed logs were stacked perfectly, stained golden and glowing in the morning sun. Something hitched in his chest, but he did his best to disregard it. He was here to find his dad’s lockbox, that was it. Then he was heading back down as quickly as the speed limit and mountain switchbacks allowed. Not only was the fundraiser creeping ever closer that evening—a fundraiser his mother insisted he secure a date for—but his flight home was scheduled the next morning. He needed to find that lockbox.

  Adrian parked the cobalt blue Hummer, killed the ignition, and stepped out. The morning forest air was crisp, fresh with the hint of pine and the promise of seclusion. At least there was that.

  He craned his neck and received a satisfying creak. His leg muscles thanked him for letting them straighten after being bent for the last hour. The cabin greeted him, an unexpected guest, offering its porch and staring without judgment. Adrian stood for several moments, staring back. That was different. He didn’t remember it being quite so welcoming.

  Maybe it was because his father was gone now. After all, it wasn’t really the cabin’s fault for the bad memories. It had just been his father’s laser-like way of asking uncomfortable questions, backing him into proverbial corners, while slathering on his paternal disappointment. Dad had never seemed to grasp the real point behind family vacations. Who needed a getaway to enjoy time together? He’d seen them as another opportunity to lambast Adrian about all the ways he’d disappointed him.

  This, at least, was no “vacation.” Adrian was here only to search. He hoped that the lockbox was stashed in one of the cupboards or cabinets, and then he would be on his way. Back to the life to which he belonged.

  Birds serenaded him high up in the treetops. Wildflowers waved and danced in the cool breeze. Twigs and brush crackled beneath his feet as he made his way to the door. He reached for the handle, and paused.

  There was a strand of green ribbon stuck in the jam. How had that gotten there?

  His senses went into instant high alert. His brothers and mom were all waiting at the ranch. Who else would be here? Had someone broken in? He knew how perfectly kempt his father had ordered things here, what with even hiring an agency willing to travel this far out for the weekly upkeep. Would he find it trashed inside? Wishing he had some kind of weapon on his person, Adrian pried the door open and braced himself for the worst.

  The cabin appeared as it always did. The kitchen with its updated and polished, granite countertops and oak cabinets greeted him. The living area was to the right, with its plaid couches, shelves staged as though in preparation for the family to drop by at any time, and a vacant fireplace stocked with logs on the brick hearth. After a moment of indecision, he opted for leaving the door open.

  Dusty footprints trailed from the door, leading to the nearest armchair where a purple duffle bag sat like a lump. Someone was definitely here.

  “Hello?” Adrian called out and made his way down the familiar archway separating the living area from the bedrooms at the back. He peered into the room his parents had usually taken, but the large bed appeared made up and untouched.

  The room where his brothers had slept was also empty, the bunk beds vacant and seamlessly made. Steeling his chest, Adrian pushed toward the remaining room. The one he’d always claimed.

  Like the other beds had been, this queen-size was perfectly made as though its occupant had just stepped out for the day. But unlike the others, this bed—his bed—held a single occupant. A sleeping woman whose golden blonde hair was draping from the mattress’s edge.

  Her face was striking. Long lashes dusted her high cheekbones. Her lips were parted slightly, and a single hand rested on her collarbone while the other held what looked like a coat over her. She’d slept in her shoes.

  Adrian was dumbfounded. Who in the world was this? If he didn’t know any better he might have thought Jordan had brought her, but she was no teenager and both of his brothers had stayed at the ranch at his own request.

  He peered around for some hint, as though the answer would jump out of the curved, exposed logs making up the interior walls and bite him. There had only been the one duffle bag. Only the woman.

  Suspicion crept through him. Not many people knew about this cabin. How did she? Did she somehow know about his father’s missing lockbox? He crossed his arms over his chest.

  The woman inhaled, releasing an alluring moan before rolling to her side.

  Adrian debated between watching her sleep—which was becoming too big of a distraction—and waking her up to find out who
she was. He decided to go with the last option and cleared his throat.

  “Um, excuse me?” He nearly marched over, but she didn’t need the fright of waking to find a man looming over her. He wasn’t some psycho. He opted for returning to the doorway.

  “Miss?” he tried again.

  Her arms stretched above her head. The coat serving as a makeshift blanket slipped, and she blearily blinked sleep out of her eyes.

  “Hmm?”

  Her voice was sweet and sleepy. She sat up, arching her back like a cat to stretch her hands to her feet when realization struck her like a plank over the head. This time her blink wasn’t a hazy one. It was startled.

  Her brow furrowed. Her body froze. She took in the plaid curtains blocking the windows, the wooden shelves staged with books, the empty fireplace, and then her gaze slowly climbed from Adrian’s designer shoes and up to his face.

  She was pretty, with wide, shocked eyes, a heart-shaped face, and a mouth hanging open in embarrassment. The temperature in the room went up a few clicks, but he did his best to keep his face expressionless.

  “Oh my gosh,” she said, scrambling to her feet and clamping both hands on her tangled hair, which he had to admit, made her all the more appealing. There was something about seeing a woman unkempt like that, in a perfect kind of way. It made her seem more real and less like a walking magazine image.

  She hugged her coat to her chest. A green ribbon hung from the zipper. The scrap on the door must have caught on her way into the cabin the night before.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  She inhaled, still staring around the room. “Yes. I’m so sorry to have imposed—I got lost last night and had no cell service.” She patted her pockets in a quiet search before unearthing a phone from her coat in apparent relief.