Chapter 10 Jacob
JACOB
Billie takes a really long time to get back.
Usually, I would be bothered about being made to wait, but I’m too busy enjoying breakfast to care.
This is the greatest vacation breakfast I’ve had in years.
Not that I go on vacation often. Or have breakfast. But if I did, this would still be the best. The bacon is perfectly crispy, and the hash browns are seasoned perfectly.
The egg is over easy, but the yolk is still warm and yellow and runny on the inside,
I make a mental note to ask Billie later what coffee beans they have and what magic they do to them, because I’m not joking when I say this is one of the best cups of coffee of my life.
Maybe it’s because I’m tired, but it has a rich flavor, strong but not bitter.
It goes down easy. Too easy. I could get real wired off these in a hurry.
When I finish breakfast, the smiling guy behind the counter offers me a pastry. “On the house,” he says nervously. I get the feeling he’s trying to placate me, but I don’t mind that. Sometimes it’s nice to be placated. Shows people know you’re important.
When Billie finally returns, she’s wearing a brave smile. She probably hopes that I can’t see right through it, but I can. It doesn’t help her case that her eyes are a little red, a little puffy.
A tiny twinge of guilt hits me.
She has so much passion for this island, so much that it makes her want to show me around and yell at me. So much that it makes her cry in the back of her cafe. I wrack my brain, trying to think of when I last had that much passion in my life for anything.
The truth is, I don’t think I ever have.
“Okay,” she says, slamming her hands down on the counter. “Get your stuff. We’re going.”
“Going where?” I frown.
“To see the island. I want you to see the best of this place. I want you to see why we’re a community worth saving.”
“Okay,” I say dubiously.
She thinks she can appeal to my bleeding heart, but unfortunately for her, I don’t have one.
I’m a billionaire. You don’t get where I’m at in business without being at least a little cutthroat.
If I worried about other people’s feelings every time I made a decision, I wouldn’t be as successful as I am.
As we leave the cafe and absolutely everyone turns to wave goodbye to her, I start to wonder if that really has been a good outlook to have my entire life.
We walk out into the sunshine, and Billie stretches her arms. “Isn’t the sea beautiful?” she says.
I bite my tongue to stop myself from saying not as beautiful as you are.
It’s true, though. Today, she’s in blue, a short skirt that billows around her knees, a white blouse that gives me a hint of the body underneath.
The sun catches her skin, kisses it, and gives highlights to her dark blond hair.
She is beautiful, but she’s also not the kind of woman who I usually have hanging around me.
I don’t think she would take that as a compliment.
It’s refreshing, almost, to talk to someone as beautiful as she is and not have her throwing it in my face.
A million girls have tried to seduce me, to get me to be their suitor, but I’ve never had much interest. It’s always felt so hollow, so pointless. As I get older, I’m starting to think it doesn’t matter. I can be happy without a relationship. Why do I need to bother being in one?
Besides, Billie’s made it perfectly clear how she feels about me. She’s not doing this out of the kindness of her heart. She’s doing this as some massive guilt trip.
Instead of saying any of that, I agree with her. “Yes, it’s why I want the island. It’s tranquil here.”
“That’s one word for it,” scoffs Billie. “You should see it at sunrise. When all the fishing boats leave, it’s like a parade.”
“Do you get a lot of tourism here?” I ask, trying to stick to the point.
She shrugs. “It varies year to year. Most of our economy comes from the sea, but yes, visitors do come. We offer silly little day trips, tours on fishing boats, forest hikes, that kind of thing. People like to use this place as an escape.” There’s a twinge of sadness behind her eyes as she says this.
“And you hate them?” I ask.
“No.” She sighs. “I hate the way people from the city look at us and think we’re stupid because we live small. We’re as complicated as anyone else. We live and love, the same as the people in the city. We’re not money-grubbing businessmen, however.”
“Ouch,” I say, and she doesn’t apologize.
“Come on,” she says, waving her hand at me and leaning me down toward the sea. “Let’s go to the beach bar.”
“The beach bar? At this time of day?”
“I thought you wanted to see the island?” she scoffs, turning back to look at me over her shoulder as she raises an eyebrow.
The wind catches her hair and I freeze in place, unable to do anything but watch her in her natural environment.
Somehow, it’s hard to imagine this woman anywhere but here.
If you put her in the city, I think she would be miserable.
I can’t imagine her among the towers and people and chaos.
She marches me over to the beach, barely saying a word to me.
She waves at people and says hello as they pass.
Many of them raise an eyebrow to see her with me, and she offers a hasty explanation that she’s trying to convince me to save the town.
Nice to know she’s that embarrassed to be seen with me.
When we get to the bar, an older gentleman with Asian features and a warm smile greets us.
“Hey, Steven,” says Billie.
“Hey, Billie,” he says before turning a sharp look upon me. “And you must be the businessman who wants to kick us all out.”
“That’s me.” I chuckle awkwardly.
I’d be amazed at how quickly word got around if I didn’t already know this was what living in a small town was like. There are no secrets from anyone here, especially not with Miss Billie on the prowl.
“Can I get you fine folks anything?”
“You’re not open yet, Steven,” she says. “We’re not here to drink anyway. I wanted to show Jacob the view.”
“This place is nothing but views.” Steven sighs happily. “I’d say you can come and help me open up, but that’s probably beneath someone like you, isn’t it?”
He stares right at me as he says it. It’s a loaded question, and I don’t answer it. Anything I say is the wrong thing, and I don’t want to embarrass myself by agreeing to something that will make me look like a fool.
People with cameras are everywhere. The last thing I need is some nerdy know-it-all blog calling me cute for helping out the locals.
I can see it in my mind now. It makes me shiver in horror.
“Steven runs one of the best beach bars this side of the island,” Billie explains to me, unprompted.
“That’s because no one lives on the other side of the island,” Steven says pointedly.
Billie’s face falls. “This is one of the major tourist hot spots. They’re always hanging around here.”
“Those fools just love to come and drink on the beach,” scoffs Steven.
“I can imagine,” I say, and I can. Already the beach is full of people. How many of those are truly local, I wonder. “Guess you must see a lot of tourists in the summer, huh?”
“Yes. This is my busy season.”
“It doesn’t look that busy,” I say before I can think, and I realize that’s absolutely the worst sentence that could have come out of my mouth.
“I told you earlier,” Billie snaps. “Tourism isn’t our major industry here. We like it that way. This is actually one of our busiest summers. Just because we’re not raking in millions in profit every day doesn’t mean we’re not succeeding.”
“Sorry,” I say, throwing up my hands.
She doesn’t accept the apology.
Instead, she turns her back slightly to me and says to Steven, “I’ll see you later. We’re going to head to the harbor.”
“Boat tour?” he asks, nodding knowingly.
“We’re not going to go on one, just to look,” she says, and I almost feel disappointed. I love boats. I love the sea. But I guess Billie doesn’t want to be trapped in a small space with me for that long.
They say their goodbyes and we head toward the harbor.
It’s a big place, bigger than you might expect for such a small island.
“This is the heart of the town,” says Billie as a seagull squawks overhead.
“This is where our lifeblood is. Tourists love to come here and soak it in, to see the fishing boats at work. These are all good people here.”
“I’m sure,” I mutter, and she throws me a look.
“Is any of this getting through to you?” she huffs. “Or are you just humoring me? Do you care?”
“No, no, I’m interested in what you have to say.”
“Are you interested in listening?”
I shrug. “Depends what you have to say.”
She sighs harshly but doesn’t argue any further. Instead, she leads me toward the fishing boats, where she waves at some of the fishermen, who wave back.
“Everyone seems to know you,” I say.
She flushes a little at that, a dusting of pink rising on her cheekbones. “I care about this place. I’ve volunteered to help with everything I can since I was a teenager. I like to help people. I like to give back.”
“A community leader.” I chuckle, and when she doesn’t laugh with me, I realize she’s being utterly serious. Usually when teenagers do stuff like that, it’s not because they care. It’s because they want awards at school or college credits.
But assuming that about Billie is wrong.
She does care. She cares to the point of irritation.
Suddenly, as we’re walking among the boats and she’s telling me a little of the history of the island, I realize this really is serious for her.
At the meeting, she sounded like one of those angry old people who can’t accept change, no matter how much it’s for the better.
That’s what I thought she was, someone getting in my way on purpose because they can’t accept that things don’t stay the same.
But Billie stops to give high-fives to the kids, knowing each one by name. When she volunteers for things, I’m sure it’s with the deepest sincerity rather than for the optics. I’m seeing that none of this is a joke to her.
I can’t let my heart be swayed. Not when I’ve found my perfect place. But as Billie talks, I’m starting to realize how right she is that this island paradise is beautiful — not because of how it looks, but because of the people who live here and how hard they work to make it perfect.
What would this place be if I ripped out its beating heart?