Chapter 26
“The price of betrayal? Twelve months of rent. Apparently.” ~ Parker
Parker
“Hey, Jerry.”
“You sound happy.”
Well, let me see. I won the gingerbread house contest. I had a ball hosting a stop at the Mermaid Treasure Hunt. And I spent the night wrapped up in a sexy billionaire who – I pat the cold sheets next to me – apparently left in the middle of the night.
“What’s up?” I ask my accountant instead of telling him my life story. He’ll hear from the gossip train soon enough – if he hasn’t already.
“There’s a weird transaction in your bank account.”
I groan. “Don’t tell me I have to pay a ton of taxes on my winnings from the gingerbread contest. I already spent the money on moonshine.”
Words to live by. Don’t spend your money on moonshine in case the tax man comes calling.
“No worry there. Congratulations on your win, by the way.”
“Thank you.”
“There’s another transaction here I can’t figure out. It’s a large deposit.”
“How large of a deposit?”
“Twelve months of rent on the loft above the bakery. Give or take.”
Twelve months of rent on the loft? Who would…. Drowning pirates in the stormy sea! I should have known Jeremy was up to something when he made me promise to stay in the loft for as long as the rent is paid.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Excuse me?”
“Not you, Jerry. You’re safe.”
“What do you want me to do about this transaction?”
“Can you return the money?”
“I don’t have a bank account number to return it to.”
I flip the covers off and jump out of bed. “I’ll get you the number.”
I end the call and immediately dial Jeremy’s number. He doesn’t answer. Of course, he doesn’t. He’s probably hiding from me.
He thinks he can hide from me? He thinks wrong. I will show him.
But then I notice the time on the clock. I need to start baking. I will show him. After the morning baking is done.
I’m elbow deep in brioche dough when the back door to the kitchen opens. I don’t need to look to know Jeremy has arrived. His sandalwood scent gives him away.
“Let me get this bread in the oven and then we’ll talk.”
“Shit.” He rubs a hand over his unshaved jaw. “You found out.”
“Yes, I found out. Even people who live on Podunk islands have accountants.”
“I’ve apologized for the Podunk comment.”
“Apologizing doesn’t mean I forgot.”
I stab a finger at him. Unfortunately, I’m holding a pastry brush which is loaded with melted butter. Melted butter flies everywhere. In my face. In my hair. On my table. Naturally, it doesn’t touch Jeremy. Mr. Untouchable Billionaire who enjoys throwing his money around.
The door to the café swings open.
“Did you…” Cindy trails off when she notices Jeremy. She glares at him. “What did you do?”
“Cindy. Please return to the café.”
“No. If this asshole hurt you, I won’t stand for it.”
My eyes widen. Cindy is twenty years old, shorter than me, and weighs half what I do. And yet she’s standing here glaring at Jeremy as if she’s ready to rumble.
He holds up his hands. “I didn’t hurt her.”
Cindy ignores him and raises an eyebrow at me.
“He’s an idiot, but he didn’t hurt me.”
“There are more ways to hurt a person than physically.”
Judging by the look on her face, she knows this from personal experience. I don’t know her well – she’s merely filling in for Holly this morning – but it’s time I had a sit-down with her.
“I appreciate your concern, Cindy. I promise you. Jeremy didn’t hurt me physically or mentally. He’s merely an idiot.”
She studies me for a moment before nodding. “Fine. But if I hear yelling, I’m calling the police.”
“What happened to her?” Jeremy asks once she’s gone.
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out.”
“Let me know if I need to bang any heads together.”
As if he’ll be around. I finish brushing the dough with egg wash, place the tin in the oven, and set the timer for thirty minutes.
“Now.” I whirl around and plant my hands on my hips. “Where were we?”
Jeremy opens his mouth to answer but I hold up a hand to stop him.
“I remember. It’s time for me to rip you a new asshole for paying a year’s rent on the loft.”
He cringes. “I just…”
I wag my finger at him. “Tut. Tut. Tut. It’s not your turn to speak yet.
You spoke loud enough when you deposited the money without telling me.
After procuring a promise from me to stay in the loft as long as you’d paid the rent.
Knowing full well I would never make such a promise if I knew you’d paid for a year. ”
“I can’t stand you living in that hellhole of an apartment.”
“Too bad.” I slap the empty tins on the table. “It’s not your choice where I live.” I pound my chest. “It’s mine. It’s my choice to save money to pay my parents back. It’s my choice to rent out the loft to earn more income. My. Choice.”
“But I have the money.”
I growl. An honest to goodness growl. “You can’t buy me with your money. I don’t want anything to do with your money.”
“Tell me about it,” he mutters.
He’s being facetious but I decide to let him have it.
“I didn’t have sex with you because you’re a billionaire. In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t have money. It would make things easier. Such as when you decide you can buy my love. I’m not for sale.”
“What do you want?” He bursts out. “This is how things work in my world.”
I rear back. “In your world? You live in the same world as mine. The rules of love and trust, and friendship don’t change because of money.”
He snorts. “Wrong.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m wrong? Explain how I’m wrong.”
“Women want one thing from me. They want my money. Why do you think I don’t do relationships? Because every woman I think is different – every woman I hope won’t be a gold digger – turns out the same way. They want me for my money.”
“You have got to be kidding me,” I grumble.
“This isn’t a joke. This is how women treat me.”
“And you thought I was the same as those gold diggers? You thought I’m some poor baker who would be happy to accept your money after a couple of tumbles in the hay.”
He cringes. “Not exactly.”
“Have I once asked for your money?”
“No.”
“What happened when I refused your help to purchase the moonshine for the Mermaid Treasure Hunt?” I don’t give him a chance to answer.
“I’ll tell you what happened. I figured out a way to pay for it by myself.
” I slap a hand on my chest. “Me. The poor little baker from the Podunk island figured it all out by herself. No big fancy billionaire needed. Thank you very much.”
“I wanted to help.”
“Do you need your ears cleaned out? Is there too much wax in there? Because you are not hearing me. Let me spell it out for you. I, Parker Shaw, owner of Pirate’s Pastries and resident of Smuggler’s Hideaway, do not need you, Jeremy Holland, billionaire tech developer of Apparoo fame, to come and save me. I can save myself.”
He steps closer and reaches for me. I retreat. If he touches me now, there’s no telling what I’ll do to him. Break his fingers. Pour hot, melted butter over his head. Kiss him breathless. There are options galore.
“I’m sorry. I only tried to help.”
I shake my head. “You don’t see it.”
“See what?”
“You did exactly what your parents and all those ‘girlfriends’ wanted you to do.”
“Explain yourself,” he grumbles.
“They want more than your money. They want you to give it to them without having to ask for it. They want you to rain gifts down on them. Spoiler alert. I don’t give a shit about your money.”
I make my way toward the café. I can’t be in the presence of someone who thinks I can be bought any longer.
I stop with my hand on the door. “Let Eli know what bank account I can return the money to. He knows my accountant.”
“Let Eli?”
“I’m sorry, Jeremy, but I can’t be in the same room with you now. I’m fantasizing about hitting you with my rolling pin and we both know I wouldn’t last in jail. They don’t supply chocolate.”
“I’ll let Eli know.”
“Thank you.”
I hurry through the door to the café. Cindy calls out my name but I keep going. I need to be somewhere private before I break down.
The man I’m falling in love with doesn’t understand me at all. I’ve had a lifetime of my parents not understanding me. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t get me. No matter how much my heart yearns for him. I can’t do it.