Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires, 3)

I shake my head hard enough to make my vision blurry. “You don’t get to stand here and blame me for your addiction.”

He clasps on to my chin, forcing me to look him in the eyes. “I’m not blaming you. I’m just being honest about what happened the last time.”

“What last time?”

His fingers clutching my chin tighten. “I came back. Even though I swore to you I wouldn’t, I did it anyway because I was a stupid, hopeful fool.”

I suck in a breath. “When?”

“Right before my grandpa was taken off the ventilators.”

“But that was—” Over two years ago.

Oh, no.

The look on his face drives an invisible dagger through my heart.

“I didn’t believe it at first.” His gaze drops. Tension bleeds from his shoulders, each of his muscles rigid underneath the fabric of his shirt. “But then I saw you with my own two eyes, kissing that guy, Victor, right by Last Call.”

My eyes narrow. “Who told you about him?”

His upper lip curls from disgust. “Does it matter?”

I look away.

His chest rises and falls from his deep exhale. “You know what? It shouldn’t because that’s not my point.”

My eyes shut. “Then what is?”

“I failed you for the final time that night.”

My head shakes hard enough to rattle my brain. “How? I didn’t even know you were in town.”

“Because instead of fighting for you—for us—I chose the easy way out that night. The familiar one. The wrong one. Instead of dealing with my problems, I wanted to drown them in alcohol until I couldn’t feel any more pain. Until I numbed the part of my brain that saw you in the arms of another man. It was so fucked up after all that effort to get sober, but I couldn’t find it in me to stop. I didn’t want to. My main reason for getting better was stolen away from me, which was exactly what my grandpa said would happen.”

He bares his soul to me, and I find it impossible to tear him down at the moment.

“I know I ruined our chance at something more. It was selfish of me to even try the last time, knowing the kind of mental state I was in and that us getting together could very well ruin our friendship.”

“Why take the risk then?” The question I obsessed over flies out of my mouth, along with any sense of self-preservation.

He takes a deep breath. My stomach twists into a knot, the muscles stretching tight enough to hurt.

His gaze locks on to mine. “I always thought we were meant to be. I might have screwed up the timing a bit, but that doesn’t change the fact that there is no one I want more in this world than you.”

Breathing becomes exponentially more difficult.

“I was biding my time before because it was never the right moment for us. Three years doesn’t sound like a big difference anymore, but back then it felt like a whole other lifetime. By the time you turned eighteen, I was already a twenty-one-year-old loser with one stint in rehab under my belt. I was a fuckup and you were…” He stalls.

“If you say a virgin, I’m going to punch you.” Cal teased me about it until one night I cracked and hooked up with an out-of-towner. He stayed pissed for an entire week, which was unheard of.

“Perfect. You were perfect.” He runs his knuckles across my cheek.

Cue the butterflies.

“You had all these dreams and so did I. One of us would have had to settle, and I didn’t want that for us. Didn’t want to risk you resenting me when we were older.” His smile falters. “I guess that was a stupid reason looking back on it.”

“I don’t resent you. I just want to cut off your airflow and watch your face turn purple every now and then.”

“Under the right circumstance, I’d love to play out your fantasy.” He winks.

“Sure. Our safe word can be more.”

A laugh explodes from his mouth, pure and light, as he stares at me like…

Like before.

“This is what I miss.” He gestures between us with a grin. “I know I can’t go back and change what I did the last time I was here. And as fucked up as it sounds, I don’t regret it either, even though I lost you in the process. Because I would have rather known what it felt like to have had you for a summer than to have not had you at all.”

My heart feels about ready to implode on itself, especially with what he says next.

“We’ve had a rocky start this summer, but I just hope we can be friends again. At least while I’m here.”

“Friends?” The floor drops out from underneath me.

He reads my face like his favorite book. “I know I screwed up big-time yesterday.”

“You did. Massively.”

“I’m glad I have you around to keep me humble.”

“Consider it my contribution to society. We can’t have someone like you running around town with an ego the size of Lake Michigan.”

“There must be some hope for me after all when there is still Lake Superior to contend with.”

I press my lips together in a poor attempt to conceal my smile.

He sighs. “Look. I know asking to be friends again is a stretch—” Yeah, because you kissed me senseless only a week ago. “But I’m hoping we can find some way to get along while I’m here.”

I roll my bottom lip between my teeth while I consider his proposal. Being friends would set an expectation. It can give us a few boundaries that will hopefully prevent us from doing something stupid.

Right. Because that worked so well the last time he was here.

I’m smarter now. Back then, the excitement of us becoming a couple trumped my common sense. But now, I’m more prepared. I evolved. Letting go of the anger I have toward him would be a sign of maturity.

Not trusting him and his addiction isn’t a sign of immaturity, but experience.

Experiences I suffered through not only with him, but my sister, too. The kind that taught me everything I know about living with loved ones who suffer with addictions.

I open my mouth with every intention of rejecting his bid for friendship, only to press my lips together. He isn’t the only one who misses our friendship.

I do as well.

I rock back on my heels. “If you want to be friends again, we need to establish some boundaries.”

“Like?”

“If you get drunk again like you did on the night of Cami’s graduation, we’re done. Forever.”

He swallows hard. “Fine.”

Well, damn. I expected a bit more hesitancy with that one.

“And no more kissing.” The words rush out of my mouth.

His lips curve into the sexiest smirk. “It’s a hard ask, but I can try.”

“You survived a long time without even attempting, so I think you can make it without another slipup.” My cheeks warm at the memory of last week.

“That was before.” His voice deepens.

“Before what?”

“I knew what you felt like beneath me.” He runs his knuckles across the side of my face. The air between us crackles, the goose bumps on my skin rising to the occasion.

It was stupid to ever think we could even attempt to be friends. There is no possible way of that ever happening—not when a simple brush of his hand makes my body react like that.

I hate it. I love it. I shouldn’t let it ever happen again.

I clear my head with a quick shake. “You know what? Never mind. I can’t be your friend.”

He pulls back, stealing his warmth and the tingling feeling running down the length of my spine away from me. “Why not?”

“You can’t even last five minutes without flirting with me.”

“Well, you’re setting me up for failure if you expect me to last five minutes around you.”

I give him a once-over. “Disappointed but not surprised.”

His face turns red in five seconds flat. “That’s not what I meant.”

“No need to be embarrassed. You’re older now, so I get it. I’m sure with the right pills that problem can get sorted out real quick.”

He takes a step closer. “I’m not embarrassed. I’m enraged.”

I fake a sigh. “Male fragility at its finest.”

“Lana.”

One word. Four letters. A thousand sparks blasting off my skin as he clasps on to the back of my neck and drags me against his chest. Our lips hover inches apart, the heat of his minty breath hitting my face.

No vodka.

My fingers curl against his chest.

His fingers press into the side of my throat. “I need to defend my honor.”

“I’m amazed there is still something left to protect.”

His eyes sparkle like a thousand stars exploding at once.

I’m antagonizing him. I know that, yet I can’t find it in me to stop, no matter how loud the voice in the back of my head shouts that nothing good can come from this.

Cal shocks me as he wraps his hand around my hair and tugs on it like a rope until my head tilts to the side and my breasts press against his chest. He drags the tip of his nose up the side of my throat. It’s erotic, the way a single touch makes my entire body feel like it might be consumed by flames. I shift, wanting to escape the feeling, only to rub against the one part of him I offended.

Fuck.

Every hard inch of him presses into my belly. I suck in a breath, and he chuckles.

“Right. About that.” His voice, now rougher than before, causes me to tremble. Tremble with what, I’m not too sure. Arousal. Excitement. Desperation. The options are endless, each one more dangerous than the last.

“You’re hard.”

“Astute as always.”

I blink twice. “Why are you hard?”

“Because you exist.” His eyes burn a hole directly into my heart, torching his way through the ice surrounding it.

I shake my head, trying to erase the image of his eyes imprinting on my soul. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

His fingers clutching my hair tighten. “I know.” He kisses the sensitive spot below my ear with a sigh. A shaky breath escapes me before I have a chance to swallow it.

“It’s wrong.” My heart pounds harder in my chest, declaring the complete opposite.

His eyes shut, but not before I catch the pain flashing within them. “Is that how you really feel about us?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything.” I respond automatically, the impact of my answer written clearly across his face.

It makes me physically ill to hurt him, but I don’t have any other choice. To risk getting close to him in any way is to risk my heart all over again for someone who doesn’t even plan on sticking around.

I don’t have it in me to survive another heartbreak. I’m afraid the next one will be the one that finally makes me shatter beyond repair.

His hand releases my hair before dropping by his side like dead weight. “I apologize for crossing a boundary then. I…” He trips over his words. “I got caught up in the moment for a second.”

My chest throbs. The churning in my stomach intensifies, acid crawling up my throat, ready to purge itself from my trembling body.

Before I can stop myself, I offer an olive branch. A stupid olive branch I know I’ll regret but can’t take back.

“If you want to be friends—real friends—you can’t manhandle me like that anymore.”

His face remains unreadable. “I thought you didn’t want to be my friend.”

“Ehh, I changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Because the only other friend you have in town is my five-year-old daughter, and frankly, that’s kind of sad.”

The look on his face widens the pit in my stomach. “I don’t need a pity friend.”

“Too bad. It’s a bribe-one-get-one Castillo special.”

A real smile forms on his face, casting away the shadows in his eyes. “Does that mean you’ll help build the boat with us?” His excitement is addictive, and I find myself saying yes. I expect the regret to be imminent, but instead, I only notice a tingly feeling in my chest at the idea of building something special with Cami and Cal.

Maybe an activity like that will be good for us. Maybe we can get closure and move on from all the crap that has been brewing at the surface for the last six years.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer before taking another step back. “I should get going. We have an early morning with the contractor tomorrow.”

I blink twice before regaining sensation in my limbs. “Right.”

He passes me the bag with the vase before walking back to his car. I’m so distracted by watching him leave that I don’t notice the second bag on the porch until he is driving toward the main road.

I walk inside the house and place the first bag on top of the empty table below the stairs before going back out to grab the other.

“What the hell is this?” I grunt from the weight. My arms tremble as I deposit it on the floor beside the table.

First, I unwrap the vase. It’s simple, elegant, and exactly something my mom would have chosen for herself. The second bag surprises me. I kneel on the floor and pull out a wrapped cube. A white envelope is taped to the top of the wrapping paper, and I cut through it with my fingernail before pulling out a card.

Maybe you were right about wanting to make someone else’s dreams come true.

-C

With shaky fingers, I peel apart the wrapping paper to reveal a professional mixer. I recognize the brand as one that belonged in my never going to happen but might as well torture myself with looking at it list.

My eyes fill with tears. It’s not about the mixer itself, but the meaning behind it that turns me inside out.

I reread the card again, and the butterflies in my stomach rage and riot even harder the second time. The feeling has nothing to do with the urge to bake until two a.m. tonight and everything to do with the man who gave me the rush in the first place.

Before I chicken out, I pull out my phone and shoot Cal a text.

Thank you for the mixer.

Thank me by making my favorite.

Deal.

I go to bed with the stupidest smile on my face that night, feeling better than I have in weeks.