Chapter 9 Billie
BILLIE
I’m usually embarrassed at letting my mouth drop open in shock. I find it unbecoming.
But there’s nothing else I can do when I lay eyes on Jacob Ford in my cafe. It takes my brain a second to catch up, but when it does, I storm over to the front of the counter and say, through gritted teeth, “You’re barred.”
I don’t want to shout because I don’t want to make a scene, but I also don’t want this guy in my cafe for a second longer.
As if the universe has perfect comic timing, the chef wanders out of the kitchen and places a big breakfast in front of Jacob, oblivious to the seething battle we’re having,
“Don’t even start that,” I growl. “I want you to get out right now.”
“Can’t I finish my coffee?” he asks, pouting. “This is the greatest coffee I’ve had possibly in my whole life.”
“Don’t think you can flatter your way out of this,” I scoff. “I don’t like you. I will never like you. I don’t want you here.”
“You can stay, you know,” he says absently, taking another swig from the mug before picking up his knife and fork.
“What? Stay where?”
Jacob takes a bite of hash browns before looking up at me. “You could stay. This cafe. On the island. Once I move in. I like this place. It would be good to have somewhere to get coffee.”
“Oh, so I would be like a servant to you? No freaking way.”
His face falls in surprise at that. He is clearly so detached from the real human world that he can’t understand what it’s like to be a normal person with normal thoughts and feelings; that maybe some of us don’t want all his money or to sell ourselves out.
“Not a servant.” He frowns. “Just… I don’t know, someone who owns a store.”
“Great. Someone who owns a store. For you. It’s all of us or it’s nothing, okay? I’m not leaving this town, and neither is anyone else. You can’t make us.”
He shrugs. “Actually, if I buy it, I can. My land, my rules. Anyway, what’s so great about this town? There are a million other small towns like this, everywhere in the world. Just go somewhere else.”
“Easy for you to say.” I clench my fists, trying to stay calm. I don’t want to cause a scene.
He’s making it really hard not to, though.
“I love my home,” I say, punctuating each word in staccato.
“I love the beach. I love my friends. Just because you live some sad, lonely life where you’ve never had anyone you can rely on doesn’t mean we don’t.
Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you can waltz in here and walk all over us.
Do you really think you’re better than all of us just because you have money?
News flash, dude. You’re not. You’re just a person like all the rest of us.
But worse, because your head is so far up your ass, you can’t even see straight anymore. ”
My voice has risen in a crescendo with every word, and I can sense people turning to look at us. I take a few more deep breaths, trying to calm myself. I can’t let him win. I won’t. Getting angry will be an amusement to him.
“That’s great,” he says dismissively, turning back to his breakfast. “Caring about something’s great, but you should take the money.” He says it so casually, like he’s asked me to go buy a newspaper or lend someone a quarter for a parking meter.
This is nothing to him. We’re pawns in his game. We’re animals he can move around at will. I won’t have it.
““I want you to get out now,” I say, my hands in fists on my hips, elbows jutting out. “I’m not joking. This is my cafe, and I don’t need your business.
I don’t need anything from you, and I never will.
None of us ever will. How dare you come here and think you’re better than us?
How dare you waltz in here in your expensive suit, acting like you know anything about any of us?
You can’t have our home. We won’t let you.
It means too much to us, to all of us. Sure, some people probably like the smell of money, but I don’t.
You can keep every last cent as far as I care.
Just go home. Go back to LA where you’re famous and people give a shit about you, because we don’t. ”
My voice is loud enough that the entire cafe has fallen silent. This is the scene that I really did not want to be making.
Jacob sits and listens as I shout at him, continuing to eat and drink his coffee, absorbing all of my rage and letting it bounce off him like water off a fish scale. In fact, the angrier I get, the more his smile grows. Because this is a game to him, and my anger is funny.
If I wasn’t so furious, I would cry. In fact, I might cry because I am furious, but not in front of him. That’s something I’ll save for later. I won’t give him the satisfaction. I take a deep breath and force myself to calm down even though I couldn’t be less calm if I tried.
My heart hammers in my chest, my palms sweat, and my eyes are pricking, but he’s getting too much satisfaction out of getting a reaction from me. I force my face back into a neutral expression, even though it doesn’t want to go.
“You know what?” I say. “Challenge accepted. You want to see what’s so special about this town?
I’ll show you. Spend a few days with me.
I’ll show you everything that makes Havenridge special, and if you still don’t care about us or our lives after that, then fine, we’ll go.
I won’t make it easy for you, but I’ll accept that I can’t stop you. ”
“And if I love the town?” he says, raising a wry eyebrow.
“If you love it, then you’ll leave.”
“Leave?”
“You’ll leave us alone, not come back. You’ll let us live our lives happy in the knowledge that we don’t need you and your money, and we never will. Deal?”
His smile widens, and for a second, I can’t tell what he’s going to do.
Then his eyes twinkle with mischief. “All right, deal. You prove to me that I shouldn’t make this my personal private haven, and I’ll let you keep living a boring town life. How does that sound?”
“Great,” I huff.
The last thing I want to do is spend any more time with this guy, but the safety of my town depends on it.
All of these people are depending on me.
They might not feel as strongly as I do, but surely, they must know that we’d be losing something special if Jacob bought Havenridge from us.
Surely, they must know that I’m right, that stopping him at all costs is for the best.
I can’t lose my life here. I don’t know what I would do without it.
He stands up and offers me his hand. Frowning, I take it, and we shake on our deal. “So, now that’s all set, can I finish my breakfast?” he asks, picking up his fork like he’s not going to wait for permission.
I take another deep breath.
Spending any time with him and not killing him is going to be a challenge. “Do what you want. I’ll make sure that this place is all set to run for the afternoon, then we’ll get started.”
“Perfect.” He nods once, then turns back to his breakfast like our whole conversation never happened. I throw up my hands with a huff and storm into the back room. It’s only when I’m out of view of absolutely everyone else that I slap my hands on my face and let myself cry.