Coffee Break with the Billionaire: A Sweet Billionaire Romcom by Holly Kerr

Author:Holly Kerr [Kerr, Holly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Three Birds Press
Published: 2024-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter seventeen

Fenella

Idon’t answer that.

I laugh, but I don’t admit that I think he’s amazing. That the more time I spend with Silas Bell, the more I want to know about him. What makes him so decent and kind? What are his favourite things, and how can I make sure he gets them?

And why in the world hasn’t some woman snatched him up?

What kind of woman would he want to snatch him up?

“Where are you taking me?” I ask instead as I turn onto a road that’s even more deserted than the one we were following.

“There’s, uh, sort of a park along the water. Just here. Pull over here.”

I do as he asks, pulling the car to the side of the road and tucking it under the trees. The spot doesn’t seem like any sort of park that I’ve ever visited. There’s a clearing near the water, but nothing is there but a bench. Like the area near the lighthouse, the ground is made up of huge rocks jutting over the ocean.

“This is a sort of park?” I ask as I idle the engine.

“Sort of. It’s a bench.” He huffs in indecision. “There was an older couple who used to live around here, and they would come here to look at the stars. When she died, he built a bench here.”

“Is this older couple your grandparents?” I wonder.

“Great-aunt and uncle. He’s the one who taught me about the stars,” Silas confesses.

And he brought me to this spot that is obviously special for him. Warmth floods me as I turn off the car. “It’s a perfect spot for our picnic.” I reach into the back for the thermos. “Or for eating the chowder.”

The car clicks as the engine cools. A cold breeze rustles the leaves on the ground and those remaining on the branches above. It’s dark, deserted, and might be slightly spooky if Silas hadn’t grabbed my hand as I was about to walk across the road without checking.

“Look both ways,” he warns. “Cars do come along here.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Silas’s hands are large and weathered, with long fingers and neatly clipped nails. I can’t help but think of how I used to marvel at Tiger’s hands, with his calluses from playing guitar and his black-painted nails. They were the hands of a boy playing at being a rock star.

Silas doesn’t have to play at anything. He’s a man; a good man.

Still holding my hand, Silas leads me across the road and along the path to the bench. The wind is stronger, blowing off the ocean, and colder. I shiver into my pink puffer jacket—warmer than the one I wore last night, but not nearly enough protection.

“Do you have a blanket in the car?” Silas asks.

“I have nothing in the car.”

He holds out his hand. “Keys. I’ll check the trunk. Keep away from the edge,” he warns as he takes the keys from me and heads back to the car.

I stop at the bench in the middle of nowhere and look out to the water.

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