Billionaires and Beach Bums: Two Complete BWWM Romance Novellas

by Mia Caldwell

  It feels a little like a test, will you be deciding to drink soon? “Yeah, I never really liked white wine anyway,” I say, avoiding the issue entirely.

  To his raised eyebrow, I add, "I didn’t say I didn’t drink it. Just that I don’t like it very much. Hell, I’ll drink white zinfandel. Even though I’m not a 17 year old girl."

  He laughs and takes the glasses and bottle to the kitchen. I follow him in.

  “Look, Tyler, I’m really tired and I have this appointment at 7 am in DuPont Circle. As much as I’d love you to stay, you have to go. Thanks for dinner. Thanks for being so understanding. I didn’t know if I was going to tell you right up until I did. So thanks for making it easier.”

  He folds me into another one of those hugs. It just feels so safe that I start to tear up again. For petesake where do all these tears even come from?

  He kisses the top of my head. “Got it. And you’re welcome. Truth be told, I’m exhausted, too. It’s been a full day on top of the jet lag. I don’t need to be in court tomorrow, but if it’s the only way I can see you, I’ll be there.”

  I pull out of the hug to look at him. Those eyes, blue as the Caribbean itself. “No need to torture yourself. We’ll work something out. I’ll text you when I can. Okay?”

  He nods. “Okay.”

  He doesn’t kiss me before he slips out the door and I’m not sure how I feel about it. I probably would have tried to avoid it. But I think I wanted him to try. I understand, though, it’s got to be eating at him, wanting kids so badly, knowing he’s so close…Ugh.

  I wipe down the kitchen counter and table–guys always forget that part–and turn out the lights. I barely make it to my room and into my pajamas before I fall asleep. One perk of pregnancy–no insomnia.

  When I wake, the day starts much like the one before it. “Okay, let’s go! Let’s get some coffee and….oh, crap.” And off to wretch into the toilet. I can’t bear the thought of my house smelling like coffee, so I give myself enough time to grab a cup on the way. I find I’m weighing which smells will be less awful–Starbucks is going to be way too intense, that burnt coffee smell in 7-11 is making me feel sick before I even walk in, maybe Dunkin’ will smell sweet enough to overpower it? Not really. But it’ll do. Each sip is an act of will,I just want enough to keep the headache at bay, to clear my head. You’re not doing yourself any favors, buddy, I think grimly.

  When you’re the first appointment, you get right in, so I don’t have to hang around in the waiting room, not reading American Baby. The nurse gives me the plastic cup and I know the drill. After about ten minutes, my doctor comes in.

  “Yep, you’re pregnant,” she says. “Congratulations?” I’ve been coming to her for years, she knows I’ve tried every kind of hormonal birth control out there.

  “I’m not sure,” I tell her. “I’m for sure wishing I’d tried that copper IUD now.”

  “Yeah, that ship has sailed, but if you plan to terminate, we can set you up to be fitted not long after.”

  She tells me my options, nice and clinical, no emotion, just like I wanted. I can get a standard medical abortion, fairly simple this early, probably just a few hours of discomfort. I can take the pill to induce miscarriage, I could take the first one right now and then more at home, but the cramping can be pretty intense and lasts much longer. Also, you don’t know when the blood is going to come. Not an option with this trial.

  Actually, it’s fairly shocking to me that I could, were it not for my job, have ended this right now. Or at least gotten that ball rolling. I have the weird feeling that I’ve dodged a bullet.

  When I leave the office, I feel dazed. At least partly from the lack of coffee, I’m sure. I’m a two-cups in the morning gal. This half a cup isn’t cutting it. Plus, well, you know. I’m lost in thought and almost walk right into a guy standing in my path.

  “Oh, sorr-” It’s Tyler. Standing there with a goofy grin and a bag of candy.

  “Hey,” he says, “Sorry to surprise you. Well, not really.”

  “How’d you know where I’d be?”

  “You said DuPont Circle, so I googled ‘gyn’ and ‘DuPont Circle’ and found one that would be open this early. I didn’t have to be a detective, really.”

  “Although you are, actually, a licensed CIA operative, too?”

  "Well, not licensed." He grins and hands me the bag. “Here, ginger candies. They can help with nausea.”

  “Thanks, I need all the help I can get.”

  I start walking again and he falls in beside me. “So, uh, how’d it go?”

  He’s trying so hard to be tactful that I can hear it in his voice. It makes me smile. “Well, the home test was right. And, since you were the only possible, um, encounter, I know I’m four weeks along. It’s still really early, most people don’t even know at this point. I just got lucky with early, terrible, morning sickness.”

  “Hooray?”

  “Yeah, lucky me.” I stop to face him. “Look, Tyler, I’m still seriously considering…not having it. I have to. A baby would be super inconvenient right now. But I’m giving myself two weeks to decide. It’s just too big a deal to make a snap judgement. I need to live with it, think about it. I’m sorry.”

  He puts his hands on my shoulders. "Do not be sorry. I’m not going to pretend I don’t have an opinion. Of course I’d love for you to have this baby–our baby, but I’m also not going to pretend that it’s my decision to make. I get a minority vote. But I will absolutely be here for you no matter what you decide. I care about you, not just what’s in that gorgeous belly of yours. You’re the one I left prime surf season for." He grins that lopsided grin.

  I whack him with the bag of ginger candies. “At least I ranked above a wave. I’m flattered.”

  “You should be. How long can I walk with you before we’re too close to the courthouse?”

  “Oh shit! You’re right, thanks. Um, we shouldn’t go any further, really, I’m going to catch the bus on that corner anyway.”

  “I could give you a ride on my motorcycle. You’d look pretty badass roaring up behind a mysterious man in a visor helmet.”

  “You have a motorcycle. Of course you do. Tell me, is it white?”

  “Um, yeah, why?”

  “No reason. Tempting as that is, no, I’ll just catch the bus like always. I like the time to clear my head before court.”

  “Okay. Text me when you can.”

  “I will. Promise. And thanks for the candy.”

  Tyler leans in to kiss me, but I give him a cheek. This shit’s complicated enough already.

  On the bus, I pop one of the candies into my mouth and text Andrea.

  So…guess who turned up yesterday?

  Tupac?

  Tyler Riordan. Opening witness for the prosecution.

  WHAT? Does he know?

  He does now. We had dinner last night.

  And??????

  It was nice. He was nice. He wants me to have it, but isn’t being pushy, says he knows it’s up to me.

  Dr. visit this morning?

  Yeah. And yes, pg. And Tyler was there when I came out.

  stalker much?

  lol. It was cute. Brought me ginger candy. It’s actually helping my stomach.

  So…what are you gonna do?

  Dunno. It’s super early. might take care of itself at this point. But doc says when you’re this sick, it’s probably not going anywhere on its own. I’m giving myself two weeks to decide.

  That seems smart. Have lunch this week?

  yes. I’ll get back to you. Probably tomorrow?

  Works for me. Good luck today.

  Thanks.

  Mark is already at the courthouse because he’s an ass-kissing goody-goody that doesn’t have doctor’s appointments and morning sickness.

  “Did you see all the holes in Riordan’s testimony?” he asks, eyes glittering with the thrill of discovery.

  “No,” I say, unpacking my case, “I went right to bed last night. I didn’t feel well.” />
  He looks at me like I’d said “Actually I don’t like candlelight dinners and long walks on the beach. Or kittens.” I ignore him. I’m sure he’ll plow ahead anyway. I’m right.

  “He was making all these claims about marine life, but Donmesco’s EIS showed nothing.”

  I sigh. "Companies do their own environmental impact studies. You know that. And by now the jury does, too. We’re representing The Big Evil. We can’t rely on the jury believing us anymore. It’s getting pretty hard to convince folks that a mining company cares about the environment. It’s like those ads of SeaWorld talking about how much they love their animals. No one is buying it."

  “All we have to do is cross him. He’ll never survive Brad. And once he’s discredited, that whole tree-hugger argument is going to collapse.”

  “You want to call Ty–Riordan to the stand? Are you nuts? Did you see the way the women on the jury were looking at him?”

  “Why, is he cute?” Mark is not convincing at all. I’m pretty sure he’s a closet case, but that mean, hateful, self-denying kind.

  “Yeah. He’s cute. And charming. Bring up dreadlock girl instead, no one likes hippies.”

  “Well Brad is charming and good looking, too. He can wreck that guy.”

  Oh right, your secret crush that everyone knows about. I just nod. “Fine.”

  I do feel nervous that Mark is doing his homework and I’m not. I’m not going to have my nose up Brad’s rear like he does, but I should show a little more interest. I dive into some of the transcripts from yesterday, since I’d been paying little attention at the time.

  My focus is a little better today. It feels good to have come to a decision, even if that decision is not to decide. At least not yet. And the ginger candies do help a bit.

  I’m able to listen to the parade of earnest, angry people who come forward to list the ways in which our client is destroying their livelihoods, the environment, humanity. I take notes on every assumption or bit of conjecture, feeling my soul crumple as I do.

  When the judge calls to adjourn for lunch, Mark tells Brad his brilliant plan.

  "He says dredging could release mercury or lead. I say we point out that it could release glitter and dollar coins! Anything could happen."

  Brad chuckles. “I like it. Discredit him by making him look stupid. Always a good, solid tactic.”

  “Brad,” I say, “The jury likes Riordan. If we take that tack, they might turn on us.”

  Mark rolls his eyes. “She thinks Riordan is ‘cute and charming.’”

  Brad pauses, strokes his chin like a villain. “Fair point, though. The ladies were watching him. Yeah, good save, Simpson.”

  Mark glares at me. Whatever.

  From the bathroom, I text Tyler.

  Breaking for lunch. I’m still not up for food. Meet me at the zoo? Cheetahs. They’re at a side entrance.

  I’ll beat you there.

  That is kind of a given, since he’s on a motorcycle and I’m on the Metro. There’s a stop near the courthouse, but it’s a block to the zoo, no matter which stop you use. Insiders know that if you get off at the stop labeled zoo, you have to walk uphill to get there. Get off at the one after. Then walk downhill again to the Zoo stop to leave. Free tip.

  It’s a nice crisp afternoon and the chill in the air hints of winter to come. The doctor said that my due date, should I carry to term, was June 7. Winter will have come and gone. Spring, too. The cherry blossoms will be long gone and people will be complaining that Spring in DC is the prettiest two weeks of the year. And I’d have a baby. With Tyler.

  I see him before he sees me. He’s watching the cheetahs pace back and forth. His hands are in the pockets of a leather jacket. He’s got on jeans and motorcycle boots. Sunglasses. He looks really good. Maybe even better than in the suit. And then it hits me: This man that I’m seriously considering linking myself to forever? I’ve seen him in exactly four outfits–surf, island dinner, suit, motorcycle rider. That’s it. I’ve spent no more than 48 hours with him, total. But he has inhabited my head for a month.

  He looks up and smiles, taking off his sunglasses as I approach. “See? Beatcha.”

  "I was taking public transportation like someone who actually cares about the environment."

  “Ooo, ouch! Good one, counsel.”

  We start walking into the zoo and he takes my hand. I let him. “I only have about 30 min here, but I wanted to get out of that place.”

  “Good, works out well for me.”

  “I think I need to get off of that case,” I say, giving voice to what has been nagging at me since Tyler first entered the courtroom.

  “Okay,” he says.

  “It’s unethical for me to be there, given our…entanglement,” he squeezes my hand and chuckles, “and it just feels awful to be there. To know I’m working for the bad guys.”

  “So recuse yourself.”

  “But if I do, then I’m a quitter. Even though it’s the right–and legal–thing to do, Brad is going to think less of me. Which actually is a good sign of moral character, but bad for my career.”

  “Well, I feel like a broken record, but I’ll support your decision and help however I can.”

  “Thanks. I’m not sure what you could do here, but thanks.” I hesitate, knowing I shouldn’t say it, but not actually giving a damn. “Tyler, I think we’re going to call you to the stand, Brad’s going to make you look stupid. I told them not to and he hesitated because the women of the jury like you,” Tyler laughs. “But I think he’s too arrogant not to.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up. I know it was hard for you–and wrong of you,” he wags a finger at me, but clearly thinks it’s funny, “but I’m pretty smart, actually, and not afraid of lawyers. Especially bullies.”

  “Ah, you’re a professional witness, too?”

  “Worse, I do it for the sheer love of the sport.”

  “So, as long as he doesn’t challenge you to a cartwheel, you’re gold?”

  Tyler laughs. “Exactly.”

  We walk on, enjoying the animals, the weather, our easy companionship. Forty eight hours and four outfits or not, I feel like I’ve known Tyler for years. I wonder what passers-by think. Do they think we’re married? Do they think we just met? Can they tell I’m pregnant?

  Tyler is disappointed when I tell him we can’t have dinner. Since I don’t know yet what I’m going to do, I need to work on this case as if it mattered to me. In a similar vein, I stop at a CVS on the way back and pick up prenatal vitamins. Just in case. I grab a Clif bar and some water to take them with. My stomach is still tender, but I don’t want to throw those vitamins down on an empty stomach.

  When I get back to the courthouse, Brad and Mark are waiting for me in the lobby. I look at the clock on the wall. Jesus, I’m only two minutes late! Relax!

  “Simpson,” snarls Brad, "why the fuck didn’t you tell us you were fucking the prosecution?"

  “What?” for a moment, I am genuinely confused, I think of Carole Mercer.

  “Don’t ‘What?’ me! You’re fucking Riordan. Mark saw him leave your house. Saw you meet him for lunch today. You could get our whole firm in trouble. Get the case thrown out! I should fire your stupid ass right now.”

  I look at Mark, standing there smirking. Bitch set me up. Or at least baited me. And stalked me. But he was right, of course.

  “You’re off the case, Simpson. Go back to the office and keep your goddamned mouth shut about this. One fucking word and you are out. Do you understand?”

  In reply, I throw up. Vitamins, Clif bar, ginger candies, and water, right on his Bruno Magli shoes.

  Tyler

  After walking Kiera to the Metro, I decide to go back to the zoo. It’s a nice day and cool, so all the animals are out and active. It’s a school day, so the paths are swarming with kids in identical t-shirts, enjoying a field trip. It’s the people with strollers that catch my eye, though. Young couples, groups of moms, the occasional dad with a baby in a carrier and a toddler in t
he stroller. I can’t help watching them, wondering what their day is like.

  In the abstract, yeah, I want kids. But what is it actually like? Everyone seems happy at the zoo on a perfect fall day, but what is it like at home? How many times can you go to the zoo before it’s boring? It was easy enough to say “Yeah, I’m ready to settle down” but am I?

  I park myself on a bench near the prairie dog enclosure and take off my jacket. The sun is warm on my skin, recalling recent days at the beach, in the water on my yacht. I think of the waves I’m missing in Peru…My eyes are about to close when a young mom streaks past shrieking “Garrett!”

  I see her snatch a little boy by his overall straps, just as he was climbing into the plants around the prairie dogs. “Dogs!” he says, pointing at them. “Dogs! See dogs!”

  The mom holds him close as she points, and says “Yes, prairie dogs,” her voice still wavering a bit from the jolt she had. Sure, prairie dogs won’t eat your kid, but still. She walks back to her cluster of stroller pushing friends and buckles him in, saying, “We have to look at the animals from the stroller, Garrett.”

  I start watching the crowd more closely and notice just how much of everyone’s day is taken up with keeping their kids alive. I see countless panicked faces, having lost a kid just for a moment. I see kids tumble from the backs of park benches, narrowly missing the curbs with their heads. I watch scores of parents prying god-knows-what from the clenched fists of toddlers determined to shove the find into their mouths. Holy crap. It’s a full time job.

  But I’m pretty sure I can do it.

  I look at my watch, 1:00, so it’s 10 in California. Elizabeth should be in the office.

  “Hey Tyler, how’s DC?”

  “Really nice, actually. I hadn’t expected it to be pretty, but it is. And the weather has been perfect.”

  “Did she enjoy the dinner?”

  “Yep. Thanks for your help on that. But I’m going to need some more. Turns out she’s pregnant and I’m…to blame.”

  “You don’t know that.” Elizabeth’s tone is cold.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Did she show you the blue stick?”

  “Well no, but I really don’t think she’s lying. She’s sick and exhausted and I met her at her doctor’s office this morning.”