4. Billie
CHAPTER 4
BILLIE
I f Billie were being honest with herself, she didn’t really expect to get a donation from Max Grayson. Though this was the first time they had met each other, she knew plenty about him already. He appeared occasionally on her news feed, always in one of two contexts: either as an eligible bachelor who was both rakishly handsome and very wealthy, or as a ruthless businessman who stopped at nothing to make sure his company succeeded. Neither persona seemed very charitable.
And although Billie had to agree that Max was rakishly handsome, with his sandy-blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, firm jawline, and muscular physique under a perfectly tailored suit jacket, the rest of what she’d heard about him wasn’t particularly flattering.
Still, Billie had to give this her best shot. Summoning thoughts of kids like Chloe, and parents like her own mother, Billie dove into her speech.
“I run a charity called Sweetest Surprise.” Billie smiled at Max. “We do a lot of work with children in the Denver community, mostly children in low-income families or in foster care. We offer mentorship, afterschool programs, a food pantry, and clothing and school supplies to kids who need them. Best of all, every Christmas we offer my favorite program.”
“Your favorite program? I have to hear about this.” Max took a sip of his wine and grinned in a way that Billie could once again only describe as rakish. The tabloids had gotten that part right.
“Our Christmas program distributes gifts to children in need around the Denver area,” Billie told him. “Kids, or their parents or caregivers, submit Christmas wish lists. Our employees and volunteers buy and wrap all the gifts, then deliver them on Christmas Eve so that Santa can put them under the tree in time for Christmas morning. We also provide a special Christmas dinner.”
“So, you’re basically one of Santa’s elves,” Max suggested.
Billie chuckled. “I like to think of myself that way, but unfortunately, there’s a lot more to it than that. See, Santa’s elves don’t really have to worry about funding, and… I do .”
It was always so awkward to bring up money, but that was why Billie was here. She summoned her mental image of Chloe cheering about her college acceptance and of the joy on kids’ faces on Christmas morning.
“Of course. I imagine that’s what brings you to the Grateful Gala on a frosty evening like this.”
“Indeed.” Billie leaned slightly closer and caught a whiff of masculine aftershave. One of the roving photographers stopped by, so Billie and Max stepped together to pose for a quick picture. The photographer moved on, but Billie and Max stayed close together. Despite the situation, Billie felt a shiver of attraction run down her spine at Max’s closeness. She wasn’t immune to the presence of a handsome man, even if he seemed more interested in her than in her charity.
“Well, no matter what brought you here, I’m glad we got to meet.”
“Right.” Billie bit her lip. “It’s been nice chatting with you.”
“It’s been nice chatting with you, too. Maybe we should get out of here. I know a nice bar just down the street where we could grab a drink and talk more.”
“Unfortunately, I have lots of fundraising to do, so I can’t exactly duck out.” Billie had found Max’s flirtations charming at first, but she was getting annoyed now. Max should realize that she had bigger concerns than grabbing a drink. “If you’d like to hear more about Sweetest Surprise’s programming, I’d be happy to tell you.”
“As long as it’s you talking, I’m ready to listen.” Max winked, and Billie sighed. She took a step back.
“Listen, Max. It was nice to meet you, but it’s clear that you’re not really interested in what Sweetest Surprise does, or in funding us. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re here to get a PR boost. After all, you’ve never shown an interest in charity before, and you’re barely showing one now.”
“Hey, what’s wrong with a little positive PR?” Max winked. It was a very attractive gesture, but Billie was almost too annoyed to notice.
“I’m sorry, but I need to find donors who are actually interested in my cause. There are a lot of kids who won’t have anything under the Christmas tree if I don’t.”
“That makes sense. Have a nice evening, Billie.” Max nodded to her, and Billie nodded back, then peeled off to work the room. She was so busy with her work that she rarely flirted with anyone, and some part of her had enjoyed flirting with Max. Still, he’d been annoying and was clearly a very different person than she was — and more importantly, she really did have a lot of fundraising to do. There was no time for her to get distracted by a handsome man.
For the next few hours, Billie made her rounds of the room. She laughed and chatted and oohed over photos of dogs and boats, then handed over her fliers. Lots of people seemed interested in talking to her, but no one was willing to agree to a donation on the spot. As the night wore on, she began to feel discouraged. This evening was her last best hope to get the funds she needed for the Christmas gift-giving program. If she didn’t get the money she needed today, she had no idea what she’d do.
“Thanks for telling me about your charity. Sweetheart Surprise sounds lovely, though I have to say, there are a lot of worthy causes here tonight.” The middle-aged couple Billie had been talking to held out their hands for her to shake.
“There certainly are. I appreciate you taking the time to hear about mine,” Billie said. She didn’t correct the couple about the name of her organization. It was clear that they wouldn’t be donating. Billie scanned the room for her next target and saw, to her surprise, that the ballroom was rapidly clearing out. Only a few waitstaff remained, and they were busily packing up the remnants of the food and clearing up the hall.
Billie deflated as she realized that she’d really missed her mark for the evening. There was always a chance that someone would reach out later, but as of now, she was no closer to her fundraising goal than she’d been a few hours ago. She was just in a considerably worse mood.
“Hey, Billie.”
Billie turned to see Max Grayson striding across the room towards her.
“Hey, Max.” She smiled wearily.
“How did your evening go?”
“Not as well as I’d hoped.” Billie hesitated. She was tired and frustrated and stressed about the gift-giving program. Maybe a little flirting with a handsome man would take her mind off all that. At least she could be annoyed with him instead of anything else. “You mentioned a bar nearby?”
“I certainly did.” Max grinned and held out his arm. Billie took it. Together, they crossed the ballroom to the coat check, where they got their jackets and headed out into the cold November air. Billie’s breath formed a white cloud in front of her mouth.
“So, tell me,” Billie said as they walked. “You really were there just because you’ve gotten some bad PR lately, weren’t you?”
“You’ve caught me red-handed.” Max sighed. “But let’s not talk about that. I’d like to hear more about you.”
“About me?” Billie considered. “There’s isn’t a lot to tell.”
“Oh, that can’t be true. How about your name. Billie. Is that short for something?”
“Nope. My parents just liked the name. How about Max? Is that short for Maximilian?”
“No, it’s just Max. See, we already have something in common.” He winked.
“Tell me, ‘just Max,’ what’s it like to run a restaurant conglomerate?”
“It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,” Max told her. His tone was a little more earnest now than the casually flirtatious one he’d had before. “My father opened the first Bluebell Diner when he was a young man. When I was very young, there was only the one restaurant, right here in Denver. My mom was a waitress, my dad was a chef, and they had a small staff of employees who I knew by name. They’d set me up in a back booth with a glass of lemonade and a stack of coloring books and I’d watch the hustle and bustle of the restaurant.”
“That sounds nice. It must be really different running a huge chain of restaurants than it was having just one, though.”
“True. It was… a big shift, for all of us, when Bluebell began to open more locations and really took off. Luckily, I enjoy the corporate side, too.”
“Do you?” Billie wrinkled her nose. “It would be hard for me to go to work with nothing other than profits in mind.”
“Would it?” Max raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you always have to look for funding for your programs? Every business is concerned with money in one way or another. Companies like mine just deal with money on a larger scale.”
They stopped in front of a small bar, where Max opened the door and let Billie in. The bar was filled with a Friday-night crowd of first dates and groups of friends talking and laughing. Max led them to a small table in the far corner and pulled out her chair for Billie. Billie knew that Max was probably this charming with every woman he met, but she couldn’t help smiling at the gallant gesture anyway.
A glance around showed that this was the kind of quintessential neighborhood bar Billie hadn’t known existed in the middle of downtown Denver. The bar was made of a soft, dark wood, while the room was filled with cheerily mismatched chairs and tables. The bartender seemed to know many of the patrons by name as he swished from one side of the bar to the other with a cloth draped over his shoulder, handing out beers and cocktails with both hands. Small bowls of shelled peanuts sat on each table, and ambient country music played through a jukebox.
“Would you like to eat something?” Max asked.
“Maybe.” Billie’s stomach rumbled lightly, giving away the fact that she hadn’t had time to grab more than one or two hors d’oeuvres the whole evening. She’d been both too nervous and too busy trying to charm the other attendees.
“I’ve only been here a few times, but the mac and cheese was good.”
“I’ll have that, then.” Billie set down her menu, which was slightly sticky. “Are you eating?”
“Mac and cheese too.” Max winked. “I’m not a fan of Thanksgiving food. What’s your excuse for still being hungry?”
“I like Thanksgiving food plenty, but it was a busy evening for me.” Billie raised an eyebrow. “What don’t you like about Thanksgiving food?”
“I’ve just always found it a little… underwhelming. Mashed potatoes aren’t that great. Turkey usually comes out dry. I don’t like green beans in general. And what other time of the year would anyone be happy to see sweet-sour jellied cranberries as part of a savory meal?”
“I suppose.” Billie leaned back. “Still, the fun of Thanksgiving isn’t necessarily the food. The company is usually the important part.”
“For some people, maybe.” Max flagged down the waiter and they placed their orders. When he turned back to Billie, he had a pensive expression. “Are you one of those people who genuinely loves the holidays, Billie?”
“I am.” Billie smiled. “Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not at all.” Max raised his hands, chuckling. “It’s just rare to meet someone who actually enjoys the holidays. I think a lot of people find them either disappointing or stressful.”
“Holidays are only disappointing if you set your expectations wrong,” Billie told him. “And anything can be stressful. That doesn’t necessarily mean it isn’t fun or worthwhile.”
“That’s a good point, actually. Stressful doesn’t have to mean bad.”
“I know.” Their drinks arrived and Billie took a long sip of the beer she’d ordered. She didn’t usually drink much, but she needed a little distance between herself and the disaster of a fundraising event if she were going to enjoy the rest of the evening. “So, let me guess. You hate all holidays.”
“Not all of them. Labor Day has its perks.”
Billie chuckled despite herself. For all that she found this man frustrating, and for all they seemed to have very different views, she enjoyed talking to him.
“What about Saint Patrick’s Day?”
“That’s not bad either. And I do have a soft spot for Boxing Day.”
“Boxing Day?” Billie grinned. “You mean that British day after Christmas?”
“Yes.”
“Do you celebrate?”
“No. But it’s always a relief having the holidays over.” Max winked and Billie laughed again.
“Okay. We’ve established that you enjoy running your company and that you don’t like holidays. What else do I need to know about you?”
“Not much,” Max said lightly. “To be honest, I spend a lot of my time working. Let’s talk about you. Do you enjoy your job?”
“I do.” Billie nodded to punctuate her statement. “It can be stressful running a charity, just as I’m sure it can be stressful running a restaurant conglomerate, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worthwhile.” Max raised his glass at the familiar phrase. “It feels good to help kids and families that might struggle otherwise.”
“Did you get the funding you needed at the event tonight?” Max asked.
“No, but don’t worry. I’m not going to ask you.”
“I’m not sure if I should be offended.”
“There’s no need to be. I just know that you’re a lost cause when it comes to charity. And this evening isn’t about business anymore.”
“No?” Max leaned forward and Billie caught another whiff of his aftershave. The table was small and, if he came a few inches closer, they could easily be touching. “Then what is this evening about?”
“Two people who had a bad day trying to have a better evening,” Billie said. It was a struggle to keep her voice even when Max was so near, but she was almost certain that she’d pulled it off.
“What makes you think I had a bad day?”
“Well, forgive me if I’m wrong, but you seem to be a man who cares about his company doing well and earning profits more than anything. And you were just forced to spend an evening away from your company talking about charities that you don’t find very interesting.”
“Insightful. There’s one thing you got wrong, though.”
“What’s that?”
“It isn’t that I don’t find your charity interesting. Everyone I spoke to tonight had a worthy cause to share. I just don’t believe that giving a little money to a charity, no matter how wonderful the charity is, will really make a difference.”
“You don’t?” Billie was surprised.
“I don’t. The problems in the world are just too big. If I give some money to an organization that helps dogs, some dogs have a better life, but there will still be wars and poverty and famine and hundreds of other dogs that don’t benefit. Nothing I do will change that.”
“That’s a really sad way to look at things.” Billie bit her lip. “Of course, I know that a few Christmas presents aren’t going to save the world, but they do mean a lot to the kids who get them. If we can all do our parts, however big or small, I really think we can make the world a better place.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you. I do believe you do good work.”
“I know. This just isn’t something that we’re going to agree on, I suppose. I just wish you could see the kids’ faces when they wake up on Christmas morning to presents under the tree and a feast on the table.”
“Maybe that would change my mind.” Max raised his glass to her. “Now, let’s go back to being two people who had a bad day trying to have a better evening.”
As if on cue, their mac and cheese arrived. Billie inhaled deeply and heard her stomach rumble. She really should have tried to eat more at the event.
As they ate, conversation slipped into easier topics. Billie learned that Max had lived in Denver his whole life, but that he frequently traveled to help open new branches of Bluebell Diner. Billie told him that she’d never actually eaten at a Bluebell Diner, which made Max’s eyes widen in horror.
“How is that possible? They’re everywhere.”
“When I was growing up, my family didn’t have much money to eat out, and as an adult, I don’t go to many restaurants. I usually just have something quick at home.”
“Now that’s a little sad. There’s something very special about going out for a meal.”
“I am enjoying this dinner.” Billie nodded at the small pot of mac and cheese. “And I do meet friends or family to eat out sometimes — but I usually prefer to host or go to their homes.”
“I can see how that would be nice. Still. Come by Bluebell sometime. The original location is right here in downtown Denver. You can have dinner or breakfast on the house.”
“Thanks.” Billie took another forkful of mac and cheese. “And what should I try?”
“We have a nice breakfast-all-day menu,” Max told her. “If you like pancakes, bacon, and hash browns, you’ll love Bluebell.”
“Who doesn’t like pancakes, bacon, and hash browns?” Billie smiled. “I’ll have to try it sometime.”
But she knew she wouldn’t. As much as Billie was enjoying her evening with Max, as much as she felt a spark of chemistry between them beneath all the disagreements, she knew she wouldn’t see him again after tonight. They were just too different. They didn’t see eye to eye on anything — except perhaps breakfast food.
Yet, when they finished dinner, Max graciously insisting on paying the bill, Billie found that she wasn’t quite ready for the evening to end yet. So, when Max offered to walk her home, she accepted.
“It isn’t exactly a walk, though,” she admitted. “I live about an hour from here.”
“An hour?”
“On the bus.” She hooked her thumb at the bus stop across the street.
Without missing a beat, Max raised his hand to hail a cab. “It’s cold tonight, and the next bus might not be for a while. Let me treat us both to a nice warm cab ride.” As if by magic, a cab pulled over in front of them right away, and Max reached for the door handle.
“All right.” Billie let him open the door for her, but she felt a little bad. The bus was good enough for her on any other day. Still, she leaned forward to give her address as Max took a seat beside her and the cab glided forward.
“What are your plans for Thanksgiving?” Billie asked once they were on the way. Then she stopped herself. “Wait, I know. You’ll be working, right?”
“You got it. I’ll have a nice quiet day at the office, maybe with some good takeout for lunch. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll go to my parents’ house. I always do for the holidays.” Billie had a sudden urge to invite Max, which she pushed aside. He wouldn’t have fun at her family Thanksgiving. This is a one-night only… friendship.
“That sounds nice. Do you have a big family?”
“Yes. Two brothers and a sister. All married. My brothers both have kids, one newborn and one toddler, and I wouldn’t be surprised if my sister has an announcement to make sooner or later. Plus, I still have a couple of living grandparents and some cousins who will probably be there.” Billie paused. “Do you have siblings?”
“No. I’m an only child.”
“Somehow, I feel like I knew that already.”
The cab pulled up outside Billie’s apartment. Max paid, sending another wave of guilt through Billie, and they both got out. It was icy cold on the sidewalk, so Billie didn’t want to linger outside. She suspected that Max would feel the same way.
“Would you like to come up?” Billie asked before she could think better of it. “I can offer you something to drink, as thanks for ‘walking’ me home.”
“I’d be happy to.”
Max waited patiently as Billie unlocked the entry door, and they climbed the stairs to her apartment. She unlocked her apartment door and let them in, then gestured for Max to have a seat on the couch while she crossed to the fridge to survey the drink options.
“I can offer you another beer, some water, or orange juice.”
“I’ll take a beer.”
Billie took a beer for Max but poured orange juice for herself. Back on the couch, he clinked his bottle against her glass and they each took a sip.
“Nice apartment,” Max said.
“Really?” Billie looked around skeptically. Her studio was small and old, but tidy and covered in pictures as well as a small seasonal pumpkin.
“Really. I like how you decorated the place.”
“Thanks.” They were sitting close together on Billie’s couch now. Every time Billie lifted her glass to drink, her arm brushed Max’s.
Billie wasn’t one for relationships, not really. She’d never had the kind of serious relationship that her mother so desperately wanted for her. Yet she wasn’t the kind of person to pursue a fling that she knew would only ever be short-term, like this one. With Max so close by her, though, all her usual practicality seemed to wash away.
Max was incredibly attractive. She didn’t usually fall for the cocky, self-assured billionaire type, but something about Max’s easy conversation and the way he held himself made attraction stir in her stomach. She wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to feel his broad hands on her hips and his lips on her own.
And why not? It had been a bad day. She didn’t need to worry that Max had strong feelings for her that would complicate things. Maybe, just this once, Billie could let herself be caught up in a moment and let go of the walls she usually kept around herself.
Slowly, Billie set her glass of orange juice on the table, then took the beer from Max’s hand. He sat up a little straighter, his blue eyes darkening to the color of the sky at dusk.
“Are we done drinking?” he asked, his voice low.
Billie felt a sudden wave of shyness, but took a deep breath and let the wave wash over her and fade away.
“I thought we might be.”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you all evening,” Max continued, his voice still low and intense. “Ever since I saw you across the room.”
“I think we could do something about that,” Billie replied. Her voice came out a little higher than she’d intended. She leaned closer, then Max closed the distance between them and brushed an achingly slow kiss across Billie’s lips. All her nerves seemed to stand to attention at his touch. Max sat back and smiled. It was the slow, satisfied smile of a man who had found something, or someone, he wanted.
Billie ached to feel his touch again, and Max must have felt the same way, because they were kissing again in an instant. This time, the kiss was deeper and a little more urgent. Billie wrapped her hands around Max’s shoulders, and he slid his hands around her waist and drew her towards him. Billie wanted more of this man. She kissed him back, her hands tangling into his hair as his five-o’clock shadow brushed against her cheek.
“Do you want me to go home?” Max asked. His voice was a whisper against her ear, making her shiver with anticipation.
“No. Stay.” And Billie shifted until she was sitting across his lap. Max pulled back and looked at her for a long moment with those intense blue eyes. He smoothed a hand across the curve of her cheek, along her shoulder, and down her arm to her hand. He placed her hand against his chest, where she could feel his heart beating.
“You are so beautiful, Billie,” he said. “Feel how you make my heart race.”
And then they were kissing again. Time seemed to slow to the pace of honey poured from a spoon, slow and golden and sweet. Billie took off her sweater and tossed it over a chair. Max ran his hands along the curves of her hips, down her spine, along the line of her bra. Then his own shirt was off, and they were pressed together, kissing again, as Billie savored the feeling of his bare chest and firm muscles against her.
Then Max was on his feet, with Billie held effortlessly in his arms. She wrapped her legs around him and they kissed again, gentle yet full of heat and expectation.
“Shall we go to bed?” Billie breathed against his ear.
“Oh, yes,” Max said, and he carried her across the room and laid her back on her bed. Billie tossed aside her worries and doubts and let herself be a woman of pure sensation, caring for nothing more than how Max touched her, how he whispered her name, how he looked at her with longing and never looked away.
For a long time, they had little more need for words.