His Beautiful Billionaire Distraction (Billionaire Bachelor Cove Book 6)

by Erica Penrod

  He didn’t focus on the pain as he slowed to a stop and was waved through the front gate of The Cove. Waylon remembered the good stuff, the sweet memories of his parents and the life they’d shared together. A smile spread across his face as he thought about all the birthday cakes his mom baked for him and Jamon, made with love but never turning out quite right. Thoughts like that had been key in Waylon’s recovery lasting more than a few weeks.

  Jamon’s drive was a circular roundabout. Waylon parked his truck and hopped out. He approached the front door and realized he hadn’t ever called his brother and didn’t know if he was home.

  After a couple raps to the door, Sophia, Jamon’s housekeeper, answered. “Hello, Waylon.” The sweet woman looked up at him. Her dark eyes lit up and her smile widened, exposing deep lines. “It’s nice to see you again.” Her accent made him smile. Growing up in Texas, he’d spent a lot of time at the house of his childhood friend, Alejandro, where his friend’s mother welcomed him with her broken English. There were times when Waylon didn’t know what she’d said, but he understood he was always welcome in her home.

  “Hi, Sophia. Is Jamon around?”

  “He is, but he’s out at the barn.” She took a step back. “You can come through the house, if you’d like.”

  He waved off the suggestion. “That’s okay. I’ll just drive around. Thank you.”

  Waylon should’ve checked the barn first, knowing his brother. Jamon’s research facility, “The Waylon West Research Center for Scientific Equine Innovation,” had been running smoothly for several months now, and Jamon allowed himself more time with his horses. Waylon climbed in the truck and made the short drive toward the barn and the arenas.

  The barn resembled more of a fancy house than a stable for horses. Large brick columns with the same stonework as the house gave the place a cohesive feel. Waylon ambled through the massive barn doors and passed through the lounging area, which made him chuckle. He’d never imagined a barn with a set of leather couches, a television screen mounted on the wall, and a small kitchen until he’d seen his brother’s. Though he wouldn’t have believed it before, the place was useful. After a long ride, a cool drink and a place to sit down were nice. There were also times when he and Jamon kicked back to watch some video on the big screen, checking out a new technique on horse training or to watch a pro rodeo.

  “Hello there, son.” Howard, a longtime family friend who’d become a father figure to both him and Jamon after their parents died, came from the stalls. “How’s it going?” A thick beard covered the man’s face and took on a life of its own when Howard spoke. He was a hand taller than Waylon and double his weight, but not as heavy as usual. Maybe he’d started another one of his fad diets.

  “Good.” Waylon looked Howard in the eye and knew the man saw right through him. “Well, it’ll be better once I apologize to Jamon.” Immediately, his chest felt lighter. Howard was the only other person who understood Waylon like Jamon did, or perhaps he was the only other person who loved him. “I overreacted earlier this afternoon.”

  “Hmm.” Howard scratched his chin and nodded. “That explains why Jamon was actin’ like he had a bur caught in his britches, saddling his horse like he was off to a race.”

  Waylon shifted his weight and put a hand in his pocket. “That good, huh?”

  A lazy smile crept across Howard’s face. “Yeah, but you know your brother. It won’t take much to make it right.”

  “I know.” Waylon envied his younger brother’s ability to forgive and move on so easily. “I hope I can be more like him when I grow up.”

  “Yeah, me too.” Howard chuckled. “Jamon’s out in the round pen.” He pulled a toothpick from the band in his cowboy hat and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. “I think I’ll head up to the house and see what’s for dinner.” He took a couple steps, his spurs jingling. “I’ll see you later.”

  “See ya, Howard.” Waylon took a right, towards the stalls. Horses waited near the gates, all neighing and eager to greet him, like his own welcoming committee. He checked his phone. It was feeding time, and the animals were ready to eat. “Sorry, I’m not here to feed you.”

  “I’m coming.” Lane, one of the hired hands, pulled up on his side-by-side loaded with hay. “You’d think I was more than one minute late by the sounds of it.”

  Waylon laughed. “Not the most patient creatures when it comes to mealtime.”

  “Nope.” Lane dashed off the ATV and began unloading the hay.

  “Do you need a hand?”

  “Naw, I’m good.” He tossed a few flakes into the first stall. “Patience is a good thing. At least, that’s what my momma always told me.” He grinned and scooped up some more hay.

  Waylon continued towards the round pen. Jamon must be working with his colt. The small, circular arena was an ideal place to work with young horses. Jamon had two round pens, one inside and one outside. He figured he’d try the indoor first.

  Jamon stood in the middle of the pen with a lead rope in his hand, which was attached to the horse’s halter. The palomino loped in circles around him.

  “How’s he doing?” Waylon climbed up on the top rail and took a seat.

  His brother glanced over at him. “Not bad.” Jamon kissed to the horse and gave a gentle flick to the rope for the colt to pick up speed. “Considering he’s a stud colt, he’s got a pretty good disposition, which I’m thrilled about. With his bloodlines, he ought to be a champion in no time.”

  “He appears to be coming right along.” Waylon took in the animal’s strong build and beautiful head. “He sure is nice to look at.”

  “Yeah, just like his owner.” Jamon raised a brow and gave him a big, toothy smile.

  “You were blessed to look just like your big brother.” Unexpected emotions formed a knot in Waylon’s throat. “But you’re smarter than me and only half as stubborn.”

  Jamon cocked his head and gave Waylon a slanted glance from beneath the brim of his hat as if he heard the disruption in his voice.

  “I came to apologize for today. I shouldn’t have acted that way,” Waylon said.

  “It’s fine.” Jamon continued to lead the horse in a gallop. “I planned to tell you about my investment in Prevail, and Gemma said I should’ve done it a long time ago.”

  Waylon shook his head. “What you do with your money is your business. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to continually watch out for me and help build a rehab, just because of the scars you carry from my addiction.”

  Jamon stopped the horse and led him over towards Waylon. “I’d do anything to help you, and I know for a fact the reason you’re doing so well is because you’re the one who made the decision to get clean.” He rubbed the horse’s face. “All the money in the world can’t do that.”

  “I know, but you understand what I’m saying. I’d like to start acting like the big brother, instead of the other way around.”

  “You can fill your obligation as big brother by being my best man.” Jamon grinned. His and Gemma’s wedding was scheduled for New Years Day. “And for the record, even if you hadn’t decided to come to Seattle, I would’ve supported Tayla and the work she’s doing. Whether you were here or not, I wanted her to bring Prevail to Seattle.”

  An angry ember burned in Waylon’s gut at the mention of Tayla. He wished she didn’t evoke such overwhelming feelings, good or bad. “I’m sure your intentions are good, but I’m not sure about Tayla Mills.” He avoided his brother’s gaze. “I think she’s a power-driven person. Probably counts her own good deeds after she opens another rehab center. She must like looking down on us addicts—”

  “Whoa.” Jamon raised his hand, and the horse spooked, stepping back. He quickly reassured the animal by stroking his mane. “I meant whoa to you.” He stared at Waylon. “She must’ve really gotten to you.”

  Waylon’s face warmed as he shrugged his shoulders. “She didn’t get to me. I’m grateful for Prevail, but that doesn’t mean I have to like her.”


  “No, you don’t have to like her, but Tayla seems like a nice person.” Jamon raised his brow. “Maybe you should give her a chance, get to know her a little.”

  Waylon didn’t want to think about Tayla Mills for one more second, but apparently the universe and his brother had different ideas.

  “You’re sure fired up about her. Are you sure it’s not because part of you liked her?”

  “Can we just change the subject?” Waylon undid the latch. “What does this best man thing entail?”

  Jamon chuckled as he led the horse out of the arena and shook his head. “You never were very good at hiding your crushes.”

  “Aren’t we grown-ups here?” Waylon looked down at his boot.

  His brother grinned. “Well, I’m the one getting married, and you … you’re acting like a schoolboy pulling the ponytail of the girl he likes.”

  Waylon rolled his eyes as his stomach tied in knots. “Whatever. Can we just get back to the best man thing?” He drew in a breath, and in his mind, he saw the pretty girl he’d met on the street, clutching a puppy to her chest. The relieved look in her electric-blue eyes and her appreciative smile chipped at his indifference towards her. The pull he’d felt for her surfaced, frustrating him. There was no way he could be attracted to Tayla Mills after their disastrous conversation, could he?

  He looked up, wondering if there was wisdom in Jamon’s advice or if it even mattered. Suppose there was more to Tayla Mills than the beautiful rich snob he’d pegged her for; it didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t afford the disruption to his routine. His life was finally moving forward, and he was proud of his sobriety. So why did he want to go back, back to the moment when Tayla Mills looked at him like he was her hero? Because Waylon wanted to be the good guy, the kind of man a woman could depend on. He was tired of being the villain.

  Five

  Tayla woke to the sensation of a warm, wet kiss on her cheek. She cracked an eyelid, trying to determine if she was dreaming or not until Charlie whimpered.

  “Good morning to you too.” She leaned towards the nightstand and slapped around until her fingers connected with her phone. Tayla pushed the button and checked the time: 5:43 a.m. Ugh. Charlie whined again. “Alright, alright, I’ll take you outside.”

  She cradled the pup in one arm as she climbed out of bed. Luckily, a set of French doors had been part of the master bedroom plans, and as she stepped out onto the deck, she decided the house was meant to be hers. Tayla hadn’t known she’d have a puppy until yesterday and she’d been provided her own set of doggy doors; someone must be watching out for her. A few steps later, she stood on the fresh-laid grass and let Charlie down. He quickly scampered to the nearest bush and did his business.

  The early risen sun gave off a warm glow, but the grass was cool beneath her feet. She rubbed her bare arms. “Are you finished?” She knelt, and Charlie trotted over and into her hands. Tayla kissed the top of his head as she stood up. “Look at me, talking to you like you can understand me.” He looked up at her, and she observed his face, her heart melting with every passing second. “I guess it’s true what they say about puppy eyes.”

  Inside her room, Tayla got back in bed, hoping to catch a little more sleep until her alarm went off at 6:30. She placed Charlie on the pillow beside her. He curled up and closed his eyes. His little stomach rose and fell in a steady rhythm. If only I can be so lucky. Tayla got into the tepid covers, and her body relaxed. Unfortunately, her mind didn’t. All the things she needed to do—meetings to attend and shopping for the house—jumped through her mind like frenzied sheep over a fence. And then there was Waylon.

  She pursed her lips and put her hands over her face. Last night, when she’d tried to fall asleep, her encounters with Waylon played through her mind. The last time she’d looked at the clock, it was well past midnight and her frustration was like a flashing neon light in a blacked-out room. Tayla had no intention of spending another thought on the man, but her subconscious had other ideas. Which might’ve been fine if she replayed their last conversation over and over; instead, she saw him embracing her puppy and the kindness in his eyes. It was as if Waylon held Charlie’s leash in his hand and the leather strap was tethered to her heart. She couldn’t separate the two: her tenderness towards Charlie and her feelings toward Waylon. His rude comment wasn’t sharp enough to cut the tie.

  Tayla had to face the truth and wouldn’t deny she’d felt something for Waylon, but admitting her folly didn’t change the facts. Waylon obviously possessed some good qualities, but they couldn’t outweigh the negatives. Surprisingly, his addiction was the least of her concerns. At the top of her list was his hasty, judgmental attitude. She tossed back the covers, careful not to wake Charlie, and got up. There was only one way for her to quit thinking about Waylon West, and that was to make herself so busy that she didn’t have time to.

  Too bad she was scheduled to spend most of the day at Prevail, the one place she might see Waylon. What would she do if she bumped into him? She could rearrange her day, but the whole point of being in Seattle was to be at Prevail in person. No, she was a big girl, and one good-looking, although slightly condescending man wasn’t going to stop her. Tayla was the CEO of Prevail, for heck’s sake; even at that thought, her courage wavered, knowing she wasn’t the CEO of her heart.

  * * *

  Waylon packed up his tools and checked his phone. There wasn’t time to grab a shower after work before his meeting, and he didn’t dare miss it.

  “Hey, Waylon.” Jed, his supervisor, came up beside him. “Some of the guys and I are going to play a couple rounds of pool before we head home. You interested?”

  He smiled. “Thanks. I wish I could, but I’ve got to get to a meeting. But I’ll be there Saturday morning for fishing.”

  Jed nodded, pushed back his hard hat, and scratched his forehead. “Alright, sounds good.” He shoved the hat back down. “Have a good night.”

  “You too.” Waylon threw the tool bag strap over his shoulder and walked towards the truck. They were working on a small apartment complex, and so far the job was running smoothly. Being a framer kept his hands busy and his mind occupied; following the architectural plans and making accurate measurements was something he enjoyed.

  He opened the door, climbed in, and removed his hard hat. Waylon checked his reflection in the rearview mirror and groaned. Stubble shadowed his face, and his hair was unsalvageable. You’re acting worse than a teenage girl. He wasn’t worried about impressing anyone at the meeting.

  Who are you kidding?

  Part of him hoped he’d run into Tayla so he could apologize; the coward in him hoped she’d avoid him. After their conversation last night, chances were he wouldn’t see her. But if he did, all he needed to do was say he was sorry and leave things alone. There was no need to worry about his unruly mane, but he sighed with relief when he saw the ball cap in the back seat.

  When he reached Prevail, Waylon hustled through the front doors and toward the meeting room. Something caught his eye and stopped him in his tracks. Through the glass of the atrium, he saw Tayla seated beside a teenage girl. She had her arm around the girl, who seemed troubled as tears fell from her red-rimmed eyes. He should move on—he was already a few minutes late—but he was intrigued by the scene. It wasn’t the right thing to do, but he quietly opened the door anyway and listened.

  “Believe me, I understand everything you’re saying.” Tayla pulled the girl closer. “I grew up the same way you are, and I know what it’s like to have an addict for a parent.” The girl let out an audible sob, and Waylon couldn’t catch a breath. The girl’s pain was like a vine, grabbing on to anything around, including his heart. “And even though your mom isn’t ready to get help, I promise that you’re doing the right thing by coming here. The family support groups were created just for you. The counselors will teach you how to deal with your feelings and how to handle situations with your mom so that you don’t end up enabling her.”

  “Wh-what’s enablin
g?”

  Tayla smiled. “It’s where we think we’re helping the people we love, but really our actions, like making excuses or cleaning up after our addict family member, helps them to continue the cycle.”

  The girl nodded.

  “You’ll learn all about enabling and other words, like codependency, in the sessions. If you want, I would be happy to go to this first one with you.”

  “Okay.” The girl dabbed at her eyes and looked over at Tayla. “But I don’t have any money.”

  “That’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t need it. The classes are free.”

  A lump the size of a baseball lodged itself in Waylon’s throat. It would be nice to write a check and know you were helping to make the world a better place. He was such an idiot, and this time he couldn’t even blame the drugs.

  * * *

  Tayla needed a personal assistant here in Seattle. She hadn’t intended on hiring anyone since the plan was to be here a few months and then back and forth from time to time, but as she stood outside of the rehab building, with the rain coming down all around her and no ride home, she thought otherwise. Perhaps she’d ask Misty if she was up for more than taking care of the household.

  Tayla blamed her scattered brain on the emotionally draining night. After attending the meeting with Lily and reliving her own painful experiences, she’d forgotten to schedule a ride. She pulled her phone from her purse to order an Uber when an old truck pulled up.

  Nervous tension filled her belly as the window rolled down. “Do you need a ride?” Waylon West called from behind the wheel.