Billionaire on the Loose (23 page)

“I'll let you know. And if it's going to be that far out, I might need another dollar or two an hour so I can afford a car . . . or at least a bicycle.”

“Fair enough. We'll talk price when I buy the place and move in.” Loch felt good. This was good. It was a start. Plus, he was being selfish—if Rex worked for him, he'd get the pleasure of his company every day, and he enjoyed their chats. They made him think. He needed that in his life, needed people to point out to him that he was being a spoiled child. “Might be a couple of weeks.”

“Well, you know where I'll be,” Rex said dryly.

“Can I put you up somewhere until then?” At the dirty look Rex shot him, Loch raised his hands in the air. “All right, all right. One step at a time.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as the waitress refilled their glasses and then dropped off their plates. Loch took a bite of his grilled cheese. A bit greasy, but still tasty.

“So,” Rex said, eating a French fry. “Tell me more about the girl. It didn't work out with her?”

“No.” Loch sighed and wiped his hands on his napkin, immediately losing his appetite. He'd had a hell of a time eating since Taylor had left him. “She got upset with me, and rightfully so. I should have fixed it then, but I let her walk away. Went home to lick my wounds. Kinda thought it was for the best, except . . .”

“Except you miss her.”

He nodded. “I miss her like I miss air. I shouldn't have let her go. I didn't realize until after she left that things between us were a little more real than I'd thought. I need to find her and win her back.”

“So do it.”

“I'm trying , but she won't return my calls. Rightfully so, I might add.” He set his greasy sandwich down and stared at his plate. “I'm not sure how to get ahold of her.”

“Well, you're doing me a solid, so I can do you a solid,” Rex said agreeably.

“That so?” Loch wiped his fingers absently, thinking about Taylor. She'd probably like Rex. And any horses that Loch bought. Though he'd have to get one for her, too, and it'd have to be gentle. Something high-spirited would dump her on the ground in an instant, his poor klutz. Providing she ever spoke to him again, of course. A hard, aching knot formed in his throat.

“Yeah, I know where she works.”

Loch paused. He turned to look at Rex, who was dragging fries through a pool of ketchup on his plate and then stuffing them into his mouth. “You do?”

“I do,” Rex said. “Ran across her the other day. You told me she wears a Doctor Who scarf and a kitty-cat backpack, right? Can't be that many adult women that do that sort of thing. Plus, she was real cute. Brown hair? Round face?”

Loch nodded slowly, eyes wide. His heart thumped hard in his chest. “Where is she?”

Rex gestured at his food. “Lemme finish my food and I'll show ya.”

***

When they left the diner, Rex led Loch down several streets teeming with pedestrians. He followed the man, pulse hammering wildly. Taylor was close, and he was dying to speak to her again. He wanted to look at her sweet face, to hear her happy laugh. To see her bright eyes sparkle when she found something funny.

God, he missed her. It was like being homesick all over again, except this time, Taylor was his home, and he was lost without her.

Rex stopped on a busy street corner, next to the crosswalk. He gestured across the street. “Over there. She's been there every day for the last week giving out samples. Nice kid. She gives me extras and pretends like they're leftovers.” He squinted up at Loch. “Don't fuck it up this time.”

Loch gazed across the busy, traffic-filled street. There was a small table set up on a curb and he could see the back of a woman as she talked to people and made notes on a clipboard. She seemed to be handing something out. It was impossible to make out any features from this distance, but he noticed her trademark scarf and backpack.

Taylor.

His woman. His fiancée for a few days, until he'd fucked things up and didn't realize what he'd had until he'd screwed it up. The sight of her made him ache with longing. She was beautiful, and the way she moved as she handed out samples and spoke to people just made his entire body tense with this uncomfortable, awkward need. Not sexual desire—though it wouldn't take much for that—but just . . . a craving. Like a junkie.

Did she miss him? Did she wish he hadn't been such a jerk? Did she regret leaving him like he regretted her leaving? Or was she fine without him? He wasn't fine without her. Not in the slightest. She'd slipped into his life so effortlessly that he hadn't realized how perfect for him she was until she was gone.

With Taylor, there was sunshine and life and laughter. Without her, there was nothing but clouds. Sappy, maybe, but the words had never felt truer.

“You just gonna stand there and gawk at her or you gonna go say something?” Rex elbowed him.

Right. Loch took a deep breath, then paused and looked over at Rex. “I'm not good at this sort of thing.”

“What sort of thing?”

“Admitting I was wrong. Asking for someone to come back. Telling her that I fucked up and was a prat. That I treated her unfairly.” He rubbed his neck, unbearably tense. He couldn't mess this up. “What should I say?”

“Any of that is a pretty good starter.” Rex pushed at Loch's back. “Now, quit being a pussy and get over there and talk to the girl. I'm going back to my spot. Thanks for lunch.”

“See you around,” Loch said absently, staring at Taylor from afar. She was talking animatedly to someone after handing them something. She laughed and his cock tightened in response. God, he loved that happy, carefree laugh of hers. It made his entire body light up.

Determined, he crossed the street, heading toward her.

Taylor's back was to him, and as he approached, he studied her. She was talking animatedly, handing out something in tiny plastic cups. People paused, downed the sample, and then said something to her and she marked it down. Was she doing corner surveys for her new job, then? He approached her table from the side as Taylor talked to a woman, and gazed at the sign in front of the table.

R
ECIPE TASTE-TESTING!
T
ASTE A
DELICIOUS TREAT AND
LET YOUR PREFERENCE
BE KNOWN!
R
ESEARCH SA
MPLES FOR THE UPCOMI
NG COOKBOOK,
F
IS FOR
F
LAVOR
BY
G
RETCHEN
P
ETTY-
B
UCHANAN.

“So did you like the lemon cake with the chocolate ganache in the middle layer or the lemon crème in the middle layer?” Taylor was asking, absorbed in her writing. She didn't notice Loch standing nearby. That was fine. He could stare at her for a little longer, absorb every detail of her appearance. Memorize her lovely face and the way she licked her lips absently as she wrote.

“Chocolate,” the old woman told her, licking her fingers. “The other one was too lemony.”

“But it's lemon cake,” Taylor said with a chuckle. “Shouldn't it be lemony?”

“Yes, but chocolate makes everything better.”

“Can't argue with that,” Taylor said, grinning. “I have your vote. Thank you so much.” She wrote a bit more, a lock of hair wishing in front of her face that Loch was dying to brush aside. She looked fantastic—her cheeks were ruddy with health, her smile was bright, and the capri pants she was wearing showed off her fantastic backside in the most mouthwatering of ways. He itched to touch her.

Instead, he approached the table.

“Hi there,” Taylor said without looking up. “Would you like to sample our lemon cake? We're doing A/B testing and I have to warn you that if you have a nut, citrus, or dairy allergy you shouldn't try any of . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked up.

The smile on her face died.

It was like a punch in the gut. Fuck. He'd done that to her.

“Taylor. Hi.” Loch wanted to caress her cheek, to see the smile return. He wanted the light to come back to her eyes. “It's me.”

A flash of hurt crossed her face. “What are you doing here? I'm busy.” She started to write furiously and the lead on her pencil snapped. “Shit.”

What was he doing here? Wasn't it obvious? Then again, maybe it wasn't. Maybe this wasn't what she wanted at all. He panicked, looking around for an excuse. “I'm here to try one of your samples, I guess.” He glanced down at the table. Little rounded, iced cakes were set out in pink and blue papers on the table, lined up like buttons. “Do I get one of A and one of B?”

“I'm not sure I want you to have any, but I guess that wouldn't be fair.” She picked up one of the pink-papered cakes. “Here's A.”

He leaned forward.

She shoved it into his face, missing his mouth and creaming most of his chin.

“I can't tell if you meant to do that or if that was just coincidence,” Loch teased, grabbing a napkin off the corner of the table and wiping at his face. He'd act like it didn't matter if she hated him or not, even though he was dying inside.

“I meant to do that.” She gave him a challenging look. “So there.”

He licked a bit of frosting from his fingers, watching her. She was scowling, but she wasn't crying. Maybe . . . maybe she didn't hate him as much as he thought. So he said, “A's pretty delicious.”

“Want to try B?” Her eyebrows wiggled.

“Only if I can feed it to myself.”

“No deal.”

He gave her a rueful smile and spoke around the aching knot that had reappeared in his throat. “I deserved a cake in the face for how I treated you, but I can't imagine it's going to get you many more people here to sample.”

She cocked her head. “So you're admitting you were a jerk?”

“I was thinking
prick
might have been a more apt term.”

She nodded slowly. “Yeah, I'm going to agree with you on that one. I do think
prick
is the better term. I'm glad you're admitting it.”

“I treated you wrong. I wanted to talk to you because I cocked things up and I regret it.” Loch wanted to take her hand in his but he forced himself to remain still.
I love you. Please don't hate me. I'm rubbish without you.
“I miss you.”

Her jaw dropped a little. She was silent for a long moment, then licked her lips. “I . . . wasn't expecting that.”

Well, she wasn't telling him to sod off, so this was going well. A tiny bit of hope burst inside his chest. “Can I buy you lunch? We could catch up.” It didn't matter that he'd just eaten. He'd buy an entire restaurant's worth of food and not eat a bite as long as he could watch her.

“Catch up?” She took a step backward and nearly knocked her small folding table over.

He caught it before it went careening, the samples sliding off to one side. Only one toppled to the ground, and she scooped it up and dumped it into a garbage bag quickly.

“Well, I say catch up,” he told her, and then rushed ahead, “but I really mean that I want to talk until I get you to forgive me. Until I get you to love me again. I figure it might go best if I ply you with cake and alcohol.”

She blinked at him, startled, and then giggled. “So this is a groveling lunch.”

He smiled back, thrilled by that small laugh. It had made his entire world light up again. “It is, in fact, a groveling lunch.”

She bit her lip, considering her table, then looking over at him. “I'm still mad at you.”

He ached to hear that. “You have every right to be.”

“You were a huge dick to me.”

“I was.”

Taylor put a hand on her hip. “And you could have talked to me.”

“I could have. But I was a prick and thought I knew what was best.” He spread his hands helplessly. “By the time I realized it was a bad idea, it was too late.”

“I'm not sure that means I have to forgive you. I don't even know if what you did
is
forgivable.”

“It might not be, but I'm here, determined to try.” To demonstrate, he got down on his knees on the sidewalk and gave her a supplicating look. “Please go to lunch with me, Taylor.”

Another giggle escaped her, which she quickly smothered. She glanced around, then waved at him. “Get up. You're going to make them think these are pot brownies or something.”

“I'll get up if you'll go to lunch with me.” He gestured at the sidewalk. “If not, I'll roll around on the ground here holding my stomach and pretending your recipes made me sick.”

“Blackmail?” She mock-gasped. “You play rough, sir.” There was a hint of a smile on her face that was encouraging, and the sparkle had returned to her eyes. But then she shook her head. “I won't let you buy me lunch.”

His spirits sank. His world felt like it was crashing around him. “No?”

“But . . . I will have lunch with you. Once I get done here, that is.”

Thank God. “I'll take that.” He got to his feet and dusted off his slacks.

She made a flicking gesture at him. “Go wander off that way for a bit. I'm going to be here another hour or so and I can't work with you hovering.”

He grinned, feeling good enough to tease her. “I shall do as you ask . . . but shouldn't I try B first?”

She gave him a warning look, but then handed him one of the B cakes. This one, she didn't crush on his face.

It gave him hope. So much hope. Loch gave the icing a long, sultry lick and noticed her gaze remained on his mouth. “I think I like B.”

“Mmm?” Her gaze flicked back to his face and then she blinked. “What? Oh. B.” She started to write, then frowned at her broken pencil. “What is it about B that decided you?”

“Because it wasn't smushed on my chin.”