The Fake Fiancé’s Billionaire Adversary
A Caprock Canyon Romance Book Two
Bree Livingston
Edited by
Christina Schrunk
The Fake Fiancé’s Billionaire Adversary
Copyright © 2019 by Bree Livingston
Edited by Christina Schrunk
https://www.facebook.com/christinaschrunk.editor
Proofread by Krista R. Burdine
https://www.facebook.com/iamgrammaresque
Cover design by Victorine Lieske
http://victorinelieske.com/
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Bree Livingston
https://www.breelivingston.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
The Fake Fiancé’s Billionaire Adversary/ Bree Livingston. -- 1st ed.
ISBN: 9781700087591
Contents
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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
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Sneak Peek! The Housekeeper’s Billionaire Boss Chapter 1
Also by Bree Livingston
About the Author
This book is dedicated to Danielle Thorne. The Sandy Pelican was a great name and Reagan loved it.
Thanks for the suggestion, Danielle!
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Chapter 1
Stretching his sore arms above his head, Hunter West ignored the snaps and pops his joints were making. He wasn’t even sure why he was still pushing himself like this. A little over a year ago, he’d become a billionaire. That one little lottery ticket had changed his bank account, but not his mindset. As his dad would say, the fruit of a man’s labor is what keeps him young.
Besides, hard work had never bothered him. If anything, he loved flipping houses because it made him feel good to see the finished product and know it was his hands that did it. More importantly, it hid his winnings from the lottery. After seeing what happened with his older brother, Bear, he worked to keep his fortune hidden. Hunter didn’t want the heartache of loving someone only to find out they wanted his money and not him.
As of late, he’d begun to wonder if his mindset didn’t need a little adjusting. The joints in his thirty-four-year-old six-foot frame seemed to be hinting it might be time to call it quits. In Hunter’s case, it wasn’t the age but the mileage that had him thinking about hanging up his hammer and settling down, hopefully in the bed and breakfast he wanted to buy a few miles away.
“Paint’s done,” his partner, Stone, said as he stopped in the doorway of the bathroom Hunter was working on.
Hunter twisted at the waist to ease some of the soreness in his lower back. His shower would be hotter than usual tonight. “Yeah, Ryan told me. You knocking off for the day?” Ryan was their contractor. He’d joined the company three years ago at about the age when Hunter had started flipping houses.
“No. I want to check on that other property we’re doing demo on this week.” His partner’s response wasn’t surprising. They were always working on more than one project at a time.
In a blink, he was back to thinking about the local beachfront bed and breakfast he’d passed more than once since he’d arrived on Tybee Island, Georgia. Talk about a project. That place needed almost as much work as the houses they typically flipped.
According to rumors, The Sandy Pelican B&B wouldn’t survive much longer, and it would be on the auction block. More than once, he’d caught himself fantasizing about what he’d do with the place if he bought it. Did he flip it or restore it? The latter was becoming more and more appealing. Settling down, a wife, kids, and the beach right outside his back door. Retiring from this back-breaking work.
That’s, of course, if he managed to purchase the place. The retiring part of the equation was selling his half of Stone-West Housing. Hunter wasn’t too bad at negotiations. Maybe he’d convince the owner of the B&B to sell it to him before it went under and then approach Stone about what to do with Hunter’s half of the business. He didn’t have to sell it. Winning the lottery gave him the option to keep it and hire someone, but when he retired, he wanted to be retired, not managing a flipping business.
Now, if he had the bed and breakfast, that would be different. Staying put, enjoying island life, and renting out a room now and then…there wouldn’t be the stress of deadlines and permits. It would be just him and his shanty by the sea.
But selling his half of the business was a conversation for another day. “Is something wrong, or are you just checking up on it?” Hunter asked.
“Just making sure the demo is on schedule,” Stone said.
They were a good team, and that’s what made them as successful as they were. Stone was brilliant with demolition and the final touches. Hunter’s skill was everything in the middle. He loved his job, but he had to admit, it wouldn’t take a lot of convincing to give up the long hours and tough physical labor. Something that wasn’t happening before Thanksgiving.
He wouldn’t be skipping this year either. His mother had gone to great lengths to pull a promise from him, and he wouldn’t let her down. Which meant twelve-hour days were in his future. That was the only way he could see this house finished by the time he left.
Hunter checked his progress on the tile and sighed. “Yeah, I guess I’ll clean up here and call it a day. It’s not long before the sun sets.”
Stone left, and Ryan took his spot in the doorway.
“I’m thinking you have questions for me,” said Hunter.
Ryan waited a beat, seeming unsure if he should ask the question. “I was wondering if I could maybe talk to you sometime about how you got into flipping houses. That is, if you don’t mind.”
Chuckling, Hunter began tucking his tools into the bucket he used to keep them together. He had a larger toolbox, but the bucket with pouches on the side worked much better for him on the job site. “No, I wouldn’t mind.”
“Awesome. Thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Ryan said and gave a two-finger salute as he left.
Once Hunter was sure he had all his tools, he took a quick tour of the house and then locked up. Before getting into his pickup, he set the tool bucket on the floor behind the driver’s seat. One of the first things he’d tell Ryan was that leaving tools out was a sure-fire way to lose them to a five-finger discount. Keeping his tools safe would save him countless hours of frustration.
He climbed into his truck and paused for a moment, enjoying the comfort of sitting. Yeah, it was a lo
ng, hot shower kind of night. He sighed, starting his vehicle and backing out of the driveway. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon. It had been another long day.
On the way to his hotel a little farther inland, his thoughts drifted to the picturesque seaside bed and breakfast. When he’d first arrived on the island, he’d missed the cute little place on his drive to one of the worksites. That evening he’d noticed it, though, it had been like a lighthouse, drawing him in.
He’d stopped by, and the owner had assumed he was a guest spending the night. Instead of correcting her, he’d happily followed her all over the home. It had been a little awkward when she’d found out after, but it had been worth whatever lame excuse he’d thrown out at the time.
From what he’d learned, the last big hurricane had really beaten the place up. The paint was peeling. The wraparound porch needed some new boards. In his head, he’d made a list of things to fix inside and tallied the bill. He’d felt it was worth every penny to enjoy the little slice of heaven it would offer.
Not only had the property made an impression on him that day but also the owner, Reagan Loveless. Man, even now he could still remember the shocked look on her face when he’d made an off-the-cuff offer to buy the place after stopping in a few times. It had been the wrong move, even after waiting a while to inquire, and he’d known it the moment her shock turned to anger. The petite woman had pulled back her shoulders, crossed her arms over her chest, and told him it would never be for sale. It had been in her family for decades, and it was going to stay that way.
Since that night, neither the bed and breakfast nor Reagan had been far from his thoughts. Not only was the property appealing, but she was too. Blonde hair that touched the tops of her shoulders, fiery dark eyes. She was the very definition of perfection when it came to Hunter’s ideal woman. Not only was she beautiful, but she had the brain to go with it.
If only he were in the market for a girlfriend, but it wasn’t the right time. Other than money, he didn’t have anything to offer a woman yet. He was still working long days, and his attention was on his business. No, he didn’t have to work, but he wanted to. He’d worked hard to build the company with Stone. Hunter wasn’t quite ready to give it up.
As The Sandy Pelican came into view, he slowed to a stop. A single light cast a glow through the window onto the railing. Reagan was working in the office which was near the kitchen. In a split-second decision, which he’d probably regret later, he turned off the road onto the winding driveway leading to the front of the house, parked, and walked to the steps.
Hopefully, he wasn’t intruding, but this place spoke to him. Hunter couldn’t put a finger on why, but it felt like home to him. He could see a future with a wife and kids. Not that he thought he was ready for all that, but it didn’t shake the idea of what could be.
That’s if he could somehow convince the stubborn owner to sell it to him. Maybe if he shared his vision with Reagan, she’d be more amiable to letting it go. He didn’t want to tear it down and build a strip mall. His plan was to just update it a little. Maybe put a porch swing up so he could drink his coffee and watch the sunrise of a morning.
He got out of his pickup, slowly making his way to the bottom of the steps. “I could do so much with you.” He laid his hand on the worn step railing. With a little love, he could bring the old home back to its former glory.
Of course, the only response was a soft breeze. In the distance, he could hear the waves crashing and the whisper-like foam soaking into the sand.
He sighed and continued up the steps. He was hoping for the best and preparing for a firm no. With luck, that’s all he’d get. Then again, he was at least a foot taller than Reagan. Unless she was pretty flexible, his backside was safe from her small foot.
Chapter 2
For the first time all day, Reagan Loveless parked herself in the office chair as the sun slipped below the horizon. Her shoulders slumped as she leaned over her desk, weariness seeping deep into her bones. Words like tired and exhausted came to mind along with ten other adjectives to describe how she felt. Not the typical attributes of a thirty-year-old woman, but that’s what happened when the real world called…collect. Could she continue going? Maybe, but right then, sitting alone in the tiny office in the back of the bed and breakfast, she wasn’t so sure.
It didn’t really matter if she could or not. Even if she did have a choice, giving up wasn’t an option. She had reservations, however meager, that she had to honor. That meant her rinse-and-repeat life would continue the same way it had since she’d taken over The Sandy Pelican two years ago. It wasn’t like the tower of bills would magically pay themselves.
No, Reagan’s only choice was to do whatever it took to keep the bed and breakfast afloat. No matter how hopeless she felt. She sighed and picked up the envelope with her bank’s return address. The one that held her loan. Even without opening it, she knew it wasn’t good news.
Before she could tear open the envelope, her phone rang, breaking the eerie silence and startling her. She held in a groan. Her little sister, Carlin. She quickly pulled her short hair back and tucked it into a clip before answering. “Hey, sis.”
“Hey.” It wasn’t the word as much as how it was said. Not really condescending, but not exactly thrilled either.
Her sister ran a high-end clothing boutique in Atlanta. It wasn’t that Carlin tried to be better at everything she did; it just came naturally. For once, Reagan wanted to be good at something too. She was tired of being the failure of the family.
“What’s going on?” Reagan asked.
“I was about to ask you that.” Carlin paused. “Mom and Dad said something about you struggling.”
At least Reagan hadn’t opened the bank’s letter yet. This way she wouldn’t be lying. “I’m struggling, but this is the slow season. There aren’t a lot of people who plan beach getaways when the water is so cold the waves are made of ice cubes.”
Carlin sighed. “I know, but if you’re struggling now, how will you make it to tourist season?”
Reagan set her elbow on the desk and her chin in her hand. “The same way Mom and Dad made it each year. A wing and a prayer.”
Her parents had signed over The Sandy Pelican when they retired. At the time, Reagan hadn’t even considered that anything would change. The first couple of years were pretty good. Tourism was up, the island was seeing explosive growth, and it was a popular destination for weddings and honeymoons. One article had called it a charming Southern slice of life.
The most her parents had ever encountered were a couple of bad storms, but they’d fixed the place afterward. It wasn’t until the property was hers that she realized they’d been seeing a downturn in reservations. According to some guests, they liked the bed and breakfast, but it needed updating.
“Sounds like you need a flock of wings and more than a few prayers.”
“This is how things are. It’ll bounce back. I just need to ride it out.” Reagan worked to keep any emotion out of her voice.
Then the last hurricane had roared onto shore, and nothing had gone right since. The entire house was a money pit at this point. She’d taken out a large equity loan to fix the damage done by the storm, but there’d been even bigger issues with the roof than a few missing shingles. Then they’d found an issue with the pipes under the house. She’d bled green, even going so far as to max out her credit cards. It was as if she were cursed by an evil leprechaun. Instead of a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the little jerk was digging in her pockets and kicking her in the shins when he didn’t find anything.
“Do you really think you’ll be able to do that?” Carlin asked.
“I think so.” This time Reagan couldn’t keep the small tremble out of her voice. “I’m really trying.”
Carlin sighed. “I know you are, and I’m not trying to be a bearer of bad news or beat you up. I know how you get, though. You’re stubborn, and you don’t know when to call it quits.”
Reagan sat bac
k in her chair, running a piece of thread sticking out from her shirt through her fingers. She picked up the bank letter again and ripped it open. She needed to face the piper while her sister was on the phone. Her entire body sagged. “It’s a foreclosure notice.”
Carlin gasped. “Oh, Reagan. Maybe it’s time to—”
“No. These things take time, and I will find a way to come up with the money. I’m not giving up on this place. I’ll chain myself to something before I let them take it.” Boy, it sounded so good that even Reagan believed the short burst of bravado.
“Do you think you can? Where are you going to get enough money to make the loan current and keep up the payments? Mom and Dad said the place still needs a ton of work.”
“I know it does.”
“And do you really want to sink every dime you have into it when you know…” She paused a beat. “When you know you may not be able to keep it?”
Carlin was talking like there were more dimes to sink into it. Reagan nearly snorted and said, “As if.” But she held the snarky comment back. Instead, she took a deep breath as reality settled in.
Tears pooled in the corner of Reagan’s eyes. “I just can’t give up.”
“Reagan, I know you’ve always felt like…” It seemed like she was searching for the best word.
“A failure because you’re good at everything?”
Carlin groaned. “You aren’t a failure. You’re the hardest working person I know. Whether the bed and breakfast succeeds or not, it won’t be your fault. You’ve put your heart and soul into it.”
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