by Jill Snow
Jaded Billionaire
Jill Snow
Annie Dobbs
Contents
Jaded Billionaire
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Also By Annie Dobbs
Also by Jill Snow
About the Author
Jaded Billionaire
Jill Snow
Annie Dobbs
Summary
Ethan Thomas is disillusioned after selling his company for billions and discovering all the people he cared about are now only interested in him for his money. Needing to get away, he heads to a campground in Sweet Mountain, Montana. It’s the off-season and he is assured all the other cabins will be empty. He’s after complete solitude which is why the last thing he needs is a city-slicker faux camper in the cabin next door. Especially one who doesn’t even know how to boil water over an open fire.
Lily Ryder doesn’t even know how to boil water over an open fire. Or on a stove for that matter. But she can’t pass up the opportunity for a big promotion at the newspaper where she works. All she has to do is spend one week at a campground and she’ll steal the job right out from under the nose of her rival. Camping, even in a cabin, turns out to be a lot harder than she expected, but the last person she’s going to turn to for help is the Neanderthal that almost shot her dog.
They could just ignore each other, but Sweet Mountain is hiding a secret, one that could change both their plans forever.
Chapter 1
The last thing Ethan Thomas wanted was human companionship. He was completely happy standing alone at the window in his rented cabin looking over the lake which reflected layers of snow covered Montana mountains. The clean air and blissful silence had reduced his stress levels to zero. The fact that the only other living souls he encountered were the elk and deer in the forest didn’t hurt either. No one to sniff after his money or guilt him into providing for them. The mountain wildlife didn’t see him as a check book and no one in the nearby town of Greendale needed to know that he had ten figures behind his name.
Sure, if he searched deep inside himself, he would admit he was a tiny bit bored. Bored but not lonely. Having sold off the company he started after retiring from the Army Rangers, Ethan lacked direction. The first few months had been great, but now he was starting to get an itch to do something more than just look at the scenery. Problem was, he had no idea what he wanted to do. Something in the outdoors for sure. These mountains here had touched something inside him. But what? He had no idea.
Good thing he could take as long as he wanted to decide.
A chirp heralded an incoming call. As he pulled the smartphone from his pocket, his sister’s face filled the screen, smiling above the two taunting buttons.
Accept.
His thumb launched toward the Reject button instead. He’d hoped that here, in Whitebark National Forest, the cell phone signal would be weak enough that she couldn’t reach him. It appeared, with one wavering bar, that he had been incorrect. Jordan could reach him even here.
But she couldn’t know where he was. When he’d left home, he’d chosen a remote campground near a tiny forgotten town. No one could milk him for money here, not even his sister. Blood might be thicker than water, but it turned out that it was not thick enough to resist the lure of the dollar sign.
Stuffing his phone into his pocket, he turned away from the window and continued to put away the latest purchase of fresh food he’d bought from the grocer in Greendale. The cabin was equipped with a wood stove and a small refrigerator, but no other kitchen appliance. Any cooking he hoped to do for himself on the days he didn’t feel like making the ten-minute drive into town would have to be done on the woodstove with the cast iron frying pan hanging from a sturdy hook on the wall, or on an open fire.
No toaster, microwave, coffee maker, not even an oven resided in the cabin whose kitchen area consisted of a short row of cabinets with minimal counter space surrounding the world’s smallest sink and a tiny four foot tall fridge. It was rustic simplicity at its best. During his time with the Rangers, he’d gone with far less. If the convenience of modern appliances was the price he had to pay for his solitude, he would pay it gladly. The cabin was equipped with modern plumbing, if not a modern kitchen, so he wasn’t entirely without comfort.
He popped the last, home-baked cookie into his mouth as he shut the fridge door. Still soft, the sweet taste of cinnamon and vanilla helped him to relax again. The campground owner, Ruby Burrows, seemed almost grandmotherly in her insistence of foisting the cookies on him every time he stopped in at the main log-sided lodge. Nearing eighty at his estimate, she moved slower than he did but filled his brief visits with chatter about the history of the campground she had owned with her late husband for the past fifty years. The campground seemed to have fallen into some disrepair, but Ruby, at her own methodical pace, seemed determined to fix every last imperfection. It was clear from the look on her face when she talked that she loved this place with every fiber of her being.
Ethan didn’t mind at all that he hadn’t been able to choose his cabin due to most of them being unfit for use. The disrepair meant that, during the tail end of the camping season as summer turned to fall, he would be uninterrupted in his newfound nature paradise. Heck, the cabins were insulated and he was considering staying the winter, too.
As he stepped out of his cabin, breathing in the crisp scent of pine needles, the blare of a radio and spinning of tires against gravel shattered his peace. Cringing, he turned to his left. A thin stand of white-bark pine trees separated him from the neighboring cabin, which he’d been assured was unoccupied. The one question he’d had for Ruby before he so much as reserved a cabin was whether or not he was likely to be disturbed while at Pinecrest Lodge. If not for the fact that he wanted to hide his wealth from the neighboring town, he would have rented out the entire camp.
Now he wished he had. This was more than a disturbance. This was an atrocity. The deep thrum of the bass hurtled through him causing a stabbing pain behind his right eye. Balling his fists, he turned toward the main lodge—the direction from whence the silver SUV visible through the tree line had emerged. Ethan refused to stay here with a hard-of-hearing hip hop fanatic. He would—
He had nowhere else to go, not if he meant to stay in Whitebark National Forest. Pinecrest Lodge was the only campground in this vast, ethereal wilderness that was suitable. It had taken weeks of research to settle upon this place as his perfect hideaway. Not to mention, this late in September, campgrounds were starting to close for the winter. Those that weren’t either didn’t have cabins or were full up with fall campers. He might not find another remote hideout even if he tried.
The radio cut off as the engine stopped. Blissful silence enfolded him as a slender brunette in shorts and a blouse exited the SUV. She didn’t seem to notice him as she rounded the hood to the far side.
Shorts and a blouse? At a campground? Clearly not someone who was prepared to spend time in a rustic cabin. Maybe she was just passing through and h
adn’t been able to find a motel room. How long could she possibly intend to stay? It might only be for a night.
He’d ask Ruby before he rushed into any decisions. Pinecrest Lodge was the first place in a long time when the weights of the past and his wealth didn’t sit on his shoulders. Determined and hopeful that this new woman would vacate his peaceful hideaway before long, he strode out for the main lodge.
He gave the neighbor’s cabin a wide berth along the way.
Chapter 2
Lily Ryder watched the grizzly bear of a man who’d come out of the neighboring cabin stalk off into the woods skirting both their cabins. He cut a striking figure even from afar, tall and muscular with broad shoulders, a clean shaven face, and short dark hair. Must not be very friendly though. Never once did he look in her direction.
Weren’t folks from this part of the state supposed to be welcoming? Ruby, the campground owner, had been more than warm toward Lily, and the cashier at the local convenience store in Greendale, where she’d stopped to pick up a few frozen dinners on the way, had been more than willing to say hello and ask a few questions.
Apparently, friendliness wasn’t a prerequisite of the campground, because Mr. Grumpy did not seem very neighborly. She knew he’d seen her, and he must have heard her car. But instead of coming over to make her acquaintance, he’d scurried off toward the main lodge. Fine by her. She wasn’t here to make friends.
As she watched his progress, she opened the passenger-side door of her rented SUV. She’d suspected that her Mini Cooper wouldn’t have been able to navigate the mountain trails, and after the bumpy and narrow ride up to Pinecrest Lodge, she felt validated in thinking ahead and snagging the rental. So far, she’d done everything right for this spur-of-the-moment trip.
How long would that last?
She silenced her nagging inner voice.
The moment she reached inside the vehicle to snag the grocery bag off the floor of the car, her furry Pekingese waddled to the ground. With a mighty sneeze, Wookie shook her floppy beige ears and tried to sneak under the SUV’s high bottom.
“No, you don’t.” Juggling the bag in one hand, she bent and scooped up her dog with the other. When she straightened, the hot new neighbor was nowhere to be seen. She shut the door to the car with her hip, placed Wookie on the ground, and pointed to their cabin. “Come on, girl. Inside.”
Wookie waddled toward the tree line of tall evergreens with pale trunks separating Lily’s cabin from the neighbor’s. “Oh, no.” Lily expertly clasped her dog by the middle and lifted her off the ground.
With a big doggy smile, tongue hanging out the side of her mouth, Wookie tilted her face up and wheezed.
“Our cabin is this one,” Lily informed her, even though the dog didn’t understand her. Wookie’s tail thumped her side, a testament that Wookie didn’t have to understand in order to be pleased. Smiling to herself, Lily strode up to her cabin and inspected the door. Maybe this impromptu week-long excursion wouldn’t be so bad.
Maybe she would spontaneously become an expert outdoors-woman. She’d heard time and again that everyone had a natural affinity for some talent or another … even if she had yet to discover what her talent was.
As she placed the bag of groceries on the packed dirt in order to open the door, a mosquito bit her exposed neck. She slapped it, missing the offending bug. Then again, maybe hers was that she was good at attracting bloodsuckers.
She couldn’t wait to go home.
Binge-watching Star Wars movies for an entire weekend while she worked overtime and nibbled on frozen pizza? That was more her style. This camping, outdoorsy, one-with-nature manure was not.
“You only have to last one week.”
That’s what her boss had told her. And she would. With a promotion up for grabs, she had to win this silly little competition, one way or another. Even if she’d never won anything in her life before. There was a first time for everything.
Stepping inside the cabin, she retrieved her grocery bag and kicked the door shut before she set Wookie down. As her dog plopped her bottom to the floor, tail thumping the rustic hardwood, she gazed up at Lily expectantly, almost as if she knew that Lily had to go back outside to retrieve the other bags she’d packed.
Lily sighed. “Do I trust you not to run away, or do I have to dig out your leash?”
Wookie continued to wag her tail, as if the faster she did so, the more trustworthy she would seem. In the end, Lily couldn’t say no to that adorable face and opened the door.
The moment Wookie stepped outside, she turned toward the neighbor’s cabin.
“No!” Lily lunged, stumbling before she managed to catch her dog around the middle. When she straightened, she glared at the disproportionately happy dog. “You have to stay here. Stay,” she stressed. She slowly put Wookie down on the ground.
For a moment, it seemed as though the Pekingese would obey. However, as Lily turned to the car, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Wookie waddled away from the cabin again. Lily wobbled on the conservative two-inch heels she’d worn for the drive as she chased her pet.
“Come back here. Wookie, come.”
The dog paused, glancing over her shoulder. It gave Lily enough time to stagger close enough to retrieve her pet.
“I can’t trust you at all, can I?”
Wookie wagged her tail, looking cute.
Lily shook her head. “I don’t care if you are the cutest thing in the world. Clearly all that hair is messing with your sense of direction. Can you even see?” Lily carefully combed the long locks of hair away from Wookie’s eyes.
The silly dog leaned in as if pleased with the grooming.
“I’m sorry. I can’t trust you out here while I’m unloading. Back inside you go.”
Lily’s heart broke a little at the forlorn look her dog gave her upon being deposited into the entry of the cabin once more. Resolute, she shut the door in Wookie’s face. Wookie was usually good about sticking beside her and she rarely had to put her on her leash, but with new places to explore, she didn’t dare let her loose while she brought her belongings inside at the same time. The one person in the world who didn’t judge her for writing what she felt was another insignificant and subpar article was her dog. She couldn’t lose Wookie in the woods, it would devastate her.
Walking back to the car, Lily fished her cell phone out of the pocket of her jean shorts and dialed the number of her best friend. Tonya Fielding worked at the Penny Gazette along with Lily. From the moment Lily had been given the desk squashed up alongside the bubbly, ever-optimistic redhead, they had become the best of friends. Despite the fact that her brother owned the newspaper and his godfather, Rob, was the Managing Editor—in other words, their boss—Tonya took as much flak as any of the other reporters, Lily included. She was good company on a Friday night when they needed to commiserate about the work week.
The line crackled as Lily pressed the speakerphone button. For a moment, the static overwhelmed the ringer, but as another bar of signal flashed into being, the connection cleared of all but the occasional crackle.
A moment later, Tonya answered the phone. “Isn’t this cheating?”
A pang of guilt pricked Lily but she knew Tonya would never tattle to Rob. Tonya was on her side.
“Hello to you too,” Lily answered as she opened the trunk of the SUV. It revealed a duffle bag stuffed with clothes and other essentials for this trip, along with another smaller bag of food for Wookie.
“Sorry. I didn’t expect to hear from you. Aren’t you supposed to be free from modern conveniences and technology all week?”
Yes. Lily already hated it.
“In a manner of speaking. I need access to some technology, if I’m going to write daily logs of this challenge. Plus, I still have some modern conveniences like toilets and showers and stuff. This promotion would not be worth it if I had to stink all week.”
Lily was lying. She had been gunning for a position reporting real news rather than the
“Dear Abby” column she had been hired to fill. The first step of any career path was to get her foot in the door. However, she had been patching together silly little self-help articles for four years. It was time to move up in the world.
Or was the way her boss flippantly ignored all her article suggestions a reflection on whether or not she could do it.
I am destined for better things than the Dear Abby column. It was not showing off her best work, and it was slowly killing her enthusiasm for her chosen career path. She needed a change.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only person completing this ridiculous camping challenge in the hopes of a promotion. Now that their main reporter had decided to semi-retire, Dave, the writer of the culinary column, wanted to report something more substantial as well. The important, headline news. And since their boss apparently didn’t have an opinion of his own, Rob had concocted this little challenge.
Reality News Articles. What a laugh. But if Lily had to camp for seven days and provide daily progress updates as to the experience, that was exactly what she would do. She was a good, engaging reporter. At least, she thought she was. After writing bad self-help articles for four years, had she lost the edge that college had given her?
Even if she wasn’t the best, certainly she could beat out a man who spent most of his working time eating off the company dime. Never mind that she had never camped a day in her life and didn’t know a compass from a pocket watch. She had this in the bag.