“Long time no see,” I said while tucking some hair behind my ear.
Not only had I been thinking about him recently with all this talk about dating, but James always ordered a lot. I didn’t know if it was just because he had a bit of appetite or if he took pity on me.
I hoped it wasn’t the latter.
James was so good-looking that I wondered why he wasn’t a movie star or a fashion model. It was obvious he was out of my league, but it didn’t stop me from imagining running my hands through his thick, dark brown hair or kissing those plump lips.
“Just finished up a project, and the first thing I had to do when I came back into town was get a cup of the most delicious coffee.”
God, I hope he meant that and that it wasn’t just flattery.
“Anything for our best customer.”
His brows pinched. “I can’t be the best customer; I’m only here about once a month.”
A bitter smile formed on my lips. “Actually, you’re about our only customer . . . At least today.”
“But it’s almost noon.”
“I know,” I said with a sigh and waved him toward the corner table that looked out onto the street.
I loved this part of Main Street. All the businesses put out enormous flowerpots and window boxes. It was beautiful in the spring and summer. In the cooler months, they put out lots of autumn and winter décor like pumpkins and mini pine trees in the planters.
This part of Main Street was cobblestone. It used to be paved, but about twenty years ago, after a minor and very rare earthquake, part of the pavement came up and revealed cobblestone from years past. The mayor and some locals thought it would be nice if they returned this two-block section of Main Street to cobblestone.
“Grab a seat, and I’ll make your usual. Then I can tell you all about it.”
He nodded and slid a hundred-dollar bill over on the counter. He did that every time. I always made change, but he would tell me to keep it. That’s what I was talking about with Susannah when I said he didn’t take life seriously. He probably just got paid from the job he worked on and was throwing money around like it didn’t matter.
It never sat well with me. He needed this money as much as I did—as much as anyone in this town did. All except those rich folks over at The Blue Spot.
“I’ll get your change.” I turned to the cash register and rang up his order.
“Keep it.” Before I could respond, he waved at me and turned to head toward the table.
I grumbled and rang him up, taking the change and reluctantly placing it in the tip jar. If he wouldn’t take it, I’d at least share it with Susannah.
“Are you going to break it to him gently?” Susannah came from behind and caused me to jump.
“Okay, creeper. Were you listening in on us?”
There was a lengthy pause before she answered, “Possibly. But you need to tell him. Rip the bandage off now, not later.”
“What are you talking about?” I maneuvered around her, making James his coffee and placing a slice of my freshly made bacon and spinach quiche on a plate. I shoved them at Susannah, nodding that she should take them to him.
She winked and said, “I’ll soften him up. Exaggerate how much of a terrible person you are when he’s not here.”
“Why would you do that?”
“With this win-a-date thing, he will get jealous. That’s not fair to him.”
“But we aren’t dating. Remember, I don’t date.”
“Don’t tell the judges that for the contest. But, even if you aren’t dating James, he deserves to know about the contest. It’s obvious he likes you.”
She was right. Even if we weren’t dating—and would never date because of my terrible track record with dating—I liked the guy. He was nice, and while it wasn’t frugal and wise, he thought he was helping by giving such a large tip.
I agreed with Susannah but told her to not tell James terrible things about me and that I’d handle informing him about the contest. She handed me the flier, and I shoved it inside my black apron pocket.
After I heated his apple croissant, toasted his everything bagel, and sliced it before placing a thick slab of cream cheese in between like a sandwich, I plated it and made my way over to James.
He had almost finished his quiche when I placed his food down and took the other seat at the small round table.
“I’ve been coming here for so long, and yet I don’t even know your last name. You know mine; it’s Diaz.”
Being from a small town, most people knew my name. When I was young, I was ridiculed, but as I grew up, the laughter subsided. But whenever I had to tell someone who didn’t know me or wasn't from here, all the laughter came back. I feared how James would react. There was a reason I never told him.
“It’s Juggs. Marika Juggs.”
I couldn’t help but notice the frozen stare. He was trying his best not to laugh. I sighed. At least he was trying.
He hummed and nodded but looked down at his food. “This is delicious. You know, I’ve eaten at some fancy restaurants, but this is better than anything I’d get there.”
“Really? Where? The only fancy restaurant I know around here is the Blue Chip, and that opened only a few months ago.”
He lowered his fork. His gaze fluttered around the room. “Oh, uh . . . I meant that all-you-can-eat seafood place a few towns over. They have unlimited melted butter.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t know there was an unlimited seafood restaurant. What’s the name of the place?”
He waved his hand at me. “It’s not important. What is important is this quiche. Have you thought of selling it?”
I narrowed my eyes. “I do. I just sold it to you.”
He swallowed rather loudly. “Right. Right. I was just kidding.” He reached over and tapped my shoulder.
Despite his odd behavior, that touch sent a shiver down my spine and landed between my thighs. Thoughts of him slapping my ass while I was bent over his lap came to mind.
I cleared my throat and tried to focus on something less likely to cause me to blush. Reaching into my apron pocket, I pulled out the flier.
James had dark brown eyes that added an intensity to anything he said or did. He was watching me with that deep gaze, and I felt it all throughout my body, even my fingertips. The paper slipped from my fingers, and James bent down to pick it up from the dark hardwood floor.
I nibbled on my lip, wondering what he would say, how he would react. When he lifted his head and gazed up with pain in his eyes after reading some of what was on the flier, there was an ache in my chest.
“What is this?”
I couldn’t look at him. I tucked my hands under my thighs and whispered, “A contest I’m entering.”
We had never kissed, had never been on a date, yet it felt like I was cheating on him.
Chapter 4
JAMES
“What is this?” I held up the wrinkled piece of paper to Coleman McEwan, the marketing director for The Blue Spot.
I stood on the other side of Coleman’s desk. His office, a much smaller version of my brother’s, smelled of the outside as he had the window behind him cracked despite the heat of the late August day.
Coleman didn’t have French doors that led to the gardens or a gigantic fireplace or large chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. His office had the same old-fashioned-style décor and an office bathroom.
Earlier today, when Marika showed me the flier in her coffee shop, I almost tore it up on the spot.
But I cared for her. I didn’t want to do anything that would upset her. Marika was beautiful with her vibrant red hair that fell like a waterfall down her back. Those dazzling light gray eyes made her seem otherworldly. And those gorgeous, thick lips would feel incredible wrapped around my cock.
Not only was Marika sexy, but she was sweet and so kind. She had no clue who I was, and I wanted to keep it that way.
But this stupid contest could ruin that. She’d meet my brother—as I suspected he was
part of this—and she’d see the similarity. We both have the Diaz last name. We look like brothers. She didn’t know what I did for a living.
But Marika was smart enough to figure it all out.
“It’s a contest. Which I wanted to speak with you about.”
“Good, for once we agree.” I stared at his square jawline that made him appear to be a real-life G.I. Joe. Even his blond hair was short, similar to a buzz cut.
He was G.I. Joe in a wheelchair.
“With a few mishaps involving the Blue Chip right before The Blue Spot officially opened when Laura became our chef, we need some good press.”
“I thought those rumors about the restaurant died out after Laura came here?” I asked, remembering my brother melting down and begging me for help.
“They did, but there is always lingering talk. Anyway, I thought a contest would be a magnificent way to show The Blue Spot in a positive light. And the winner would go on a date with the billionaire at the Blue Chip, showing everyone it’s a great restaurant with delicious food.”
“Showing everyone?”
“The contest will be filmed and shown on our VidTube channel.”
They needed an enticing billionaire to pull viewers in. Rock was a little famous when he was featured in Wealthy magazine in their annual “Hot Young Billionaires” section.
I slapped the paper down on his desk and wondered for a moment if Rock was the billionaire for the contest. But he’d never agree to that since he was with Laura.
“It’s not a guest, is it? The billionaire?”
Coleman shook his head and maneuvered his wheelchair out from behind his desk and over to me. Despite just about everyone towering over him while he sat in his chair, Coleman had the ability to make anyone in his presence practically bow to him. I still debated whether past lives existed, but if they did, Coleman must have been an emperor in his last one.
The man didn’t even need a job as he was the richest guy here. His family were the same McEwans who owned the McEwan Candy Company.
“No, it’s more in-house.”
I frowned. “Oh God, it’s you. Are you really that desperate for a date, Coleman?”
He narrowed his eyes, and I immediately regretted what I said.
“I didn’t mean that you couldn’t get a date. I’m sure there are hundreds of women who have a thing for G.I. Joe dolls. They’d love you.”
“I don’t look like a doll.” He gave me an expression that was classic Joe.
I rolled my lips over my teeth, trying to hold back laughter. Sitting down, I held my hands up. “Whatever you say, Joe.”
“Back to the Win a Date with a Billionaire contest. Your brother said you were interested in doing more for The Blue Spot . . .”
I realized what he wanted, and I shook my head. “No, I will not be a judge for this ridiculousness.”
Then Marika would find out I was part of The Blue Spot. She’d ask about why I was here, and I’d have to tell her. I had already deceived her by not mentioning that my brother ran The Blue Spot. I never outright lied to her, but when I first walked into Hard Grind last fall, she seemed to believe I was like anyone else in the café—an average Joe with a regular job.
I may have made it seem like I wasn’t a billionaire, but I never said it out loud.
Even that seafood place I told her about. Most likely why she had never heard of it was the fact it was pricey. And, yes, the butter was unlimited because the food cost a fortune.
“Don’t worry, we aren’t expecting you to be a judge.” Coleman looked over at me, and I gasped. He smiled.
For the first time since I met him a year ago, Coleman grinned. It seemed odd. It was stiff, and he looked uncomfortable.
I suspected that was an expression he rarely gave.
Swallowing, I tried my best not to let the fear show in my voice. “Then how am I supposed to help?”
I regretted asking my brother about being more involved with The Blue Spot. I only asked because the more time I spent here, the happier I was and more reluctant I was to head back to New York City to film videos of Joke’in James.
Right at that moment my phone buzzed. I didn’t have to look. I knew it was Pru, my manager. She texted me several times a day for the past week. I had missed my weekly VidTube posting.
I should text her back, but not right now.
It wasn’t my VidTube channel or The Blue Spot that made my heart flutter as I drove closer to Castle Ridge. It was Marika. Leaving her every month to head home became harder and harder. We hadn’t even gone on a date, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her over the past several months.
“You’re the billionaire. The winner will go out on a date with you.”
I felt sick. My shoulders tightened, and I tried to speak, but nothing came out.
“James, are you okay? You look like you're about to faint.” Coleman reached a hand out, and I didn’t swat it away. Normally, I would do anything to keep my distance from him, as we had a mutual hate of each other. I thought he was a rich brat who only got this job because he was a rich brat, and he thought I was too handsome and ridiculously smart—all of which was true. He never said those things about me per se, but I knew deep down he was jealous of how amazing I was and secretly wished to be me.
That’s why he was doing this to me. He wanted to see me suffer.
“You did this. You made up this entire campaign just to humiliate me.”
“Whoa.” He held up his hands, leaning back. “I came up with the Win a Date with a Billionaire idea, but I wasn’t the one who thought you should be the billionaire prize. That was all your brother.”
Rock did this to me? He knew I would hate something like this. A fake date just for the cameras to bring attention to The Blue Spot. I confided in him I was tired of being famous. Didn’t he realize this would be the last thing I wanted to do?
“I can’t believe Rock would bring me up. I know I’m famous but . . .” I gave up. Why bother? If this was all my brother saw in me—someone to smile prettily for the camera to make money—then maybe coming to The Blue Spot was a terrible idea.
Maybe I should just live alone in the mountains by myself, away from everyone.
“No, Rock didn’t mention you . . . Monty did.”
My head went back in surprise.
“What in the actual fuck?” I stood and paced around the room.
“It will not be terrible. You only have to go to dinner with the winner. That’s it. I’m not expecting you to kiss her or anything.”
“It’s not the date that’s the problem.” I ran my hand through my hair as I imagined the look of disappointment on Marika’s face when she discovered I was a billionaire.
Not that my channel on VidTube made billions. I made millions from that, not billions. But, with the help of Rock, I invested my money and was now a billionaire.
“Then what is it? We don’t have to mention Joke’in James if that’s your concern.”
I stopped and stared at him. “It’s not about branding. It’s the fact that the woman I want to ask out on a date is entering the contest.”
Coleman stared, expecting me to say more. When I didn’t, he opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out.
Finally, he found his voice. “So . . . you want to date this woman, but you can’t go out on a date with her through the contest?”
“Yes,” I said, rubbing my forehead.
He thought about it for a moment before he added, “I guess it would be a conflict of interest if she knew you were the billionaire. It would look like favoritism to pick your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend, and she doesn’t know I’m the billionaire. In fact, she doesn’t even know my brother runs The Blue Spot. I met her back in October and always visit her when I’m in town but have yet to ask her out. She thinks I’m just an average guy from around here, not a VidTube star who lives in New York.”
“The more you talk, the more confused I become. I thought you had feelings
for her?”
“Yes, but a woman like that needs time. My methods of wooing her are like a fine wine. They need time to age.”
With a playful grin, he said, “She doesn’t like you like that, does she?”
My heart skidded to a halt. That was what I worried about.
“You’ve been friend-zoned.”
There was a low rumble, and I wondered what it was. Looking around the room, I discovered the sound came from Coleman. He was chuckling.
I had no idea he knew how to laugh. All these new joyous expressions from him were disorienting.
“No, not friend-zoned, just . . . taking my time. Making it so she craves me.”
His laughter exploded, and he was now gasping for breath. “Crave? Oh man, this is the best. What are you, nicotine?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged, tired of his attitude.
“So, you’re addictive and bad for her health?”
“Technically, it’s not the nicotine that causes cancer.”
That made him laugh harder. Coleman reached out an arm, and in between gasping breaths, he said, “Stop, you’re killing me here. Oh, my God, you are like a cigarette.”
“Stop, you’re embarrassing yourself. This is a work environment.”
After a minute and some wheezing, Coleman wiped the tears from his eyes. “You’re right. We are at work. And you know there’s no smoking at work.” I thought for a moment he was about to fall out of his wheelchair as he erupted in laughter once again.
“This is why I didn’t want to tell you or anyone else. Look, I like her. She’s the one person in my life who doesn’t want something from me. Isn’t out to use me for some gain.” I glared at him with tremendous amounts of judgment in my eyes.
Coleman’s laughter subsided, and he cleared his throat. “You’re right. Unfortunately, that’s the price of fame and money, James. The more you have, the more people want.” He sighed, and his gaze lost focus as he looked past me. “And sometimes you have to walk away from everything you know to find people who really care about you and not what you can give them.”
Maybe Coleman wasn’t so bad. I guess growing up super wealthy couldn’t have been easy with making friends. As I discovered over the years, the more money I made, the more people I thought were my friends only wanted me for what I could do for them.
Dating Disaster with a Billionaire (Blue Ridge Mountain Billionaires, #1) Page 3