The Renegade Billionaire: A Small Town Romance (Happiness Ever After Book 1)

“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, entering the room that Grey’s using as an office.

“Nothing to talk about.” He keeps his gaze firmly on the screen in front of him.

“Don’t do that, Grey. We’ve been a team for over twenty years—that doesn’t stop now.”

Shutting the door behind me, I cross the room and sit in the small chair set up in front of his desk as though he’d actually have meetings in here. But I know two things to be true about Greyson—he’s as loyal as they come, and he loves his routine.

“Did we fuck him up?” he blurts without looking at me.

The truth is, I’ve been asking myself the same question. Not because he dresses differently, or even because he sometimes wears eyeliner as a mask. But because we’ve always treated him as an equal.

“We were twelve when she died, Grey.” He throws his pen across the room. “When he killed her.”

“When he killed her,” I agree. Once Violet began to show during her pregnancy, their father kept her locked in her room so no one would find out. Image above all else was his motto.

We used to sit outside her door and talk to her. My grandfather tried to get her removed from the home multiple times, but no one would believe us—even with all the wealth and connections my grandfather had, Mr. Wells had more.

That’s when we learned that money can’t buy everything.

We later found out that she had something called preeclampsia and went into labor early while we were at school. When we got home, we couldn’t get the door down in time. Grey and I delivered Sage with the help of 911 while the ambulance was on the way, but Violet passed away en route to the hospital, and she would never tell us who the father was.

She was seventeen—the same age as Sage.

“We were kids playing house, Grey. Sure, we had nannies and Ace who supervised sometimes, but we were very clear from the beginning that Sage was our responsibility—we owed it to Vi. We did the best we could, and we’ve loved him every day of his life. We gave him the best of us at every step.”

“He’s seventeen.” He coughs to hide his emotion.

“He is, and we all handled that birthday differently, but we’re here, and he’s been taking college classes for three years. He’s going to be eighteen soon.”

“He really wants this.” Grey finally looks at me, and all the pain he’s carrying shows in his expression. The guilt, the misplaced shame, the fear.

“I think so. He’s never really asked us for anything, so that right there is telling.”

“I know, but he spent all of eight hours with them. And he’s not conditioned. He’s never even played a contact sport with guys that size.”

“Greyson. You know kickers don’t get tackled that often.”

“But they do sometimes.”

“They do…sometimes, and we can work with him. All those boys who showed up for dinner, they promised to work with him too.”

After Coach B. pulled us out from the bleachers, which has circulated town more than once, two things became abundantly clear: they want Sage on the team, and Sage is ready to go to college.

“What happens when we leave, though? What’s he going to do? Stay here with Pops?”

“He’s at that age where most kids are going off to college anyway, and there are worse people he could count on while he’s away.”

I knew Grey would have a hard time letting go, but I didn’t realize it would be this bad, so I don’t tell him that this place feels like home for me too. The last thing I ever want my best friend to think or feel is that we’re moving on without him.

He is and always will be my family.

“Is the way they’re getting him enrolled partway through a semester even legal? What happens if we let him go and then he ends up getting removed from the school and the team?” He’s grasping at straws, and by the deepening of his frown, he knows it.

“I have someone in Mr. Coop’s firm looking into it.”

“Why is this so hard?”

“Because letting him go, even when it’s the right thing to do, is a reminder of who we’ve lost.”

“Fuck me.” He points an angry finger my way. “You need to get the fuck away from Pops. You’re sounding too much like him.”

“He did say happiness is found here.”

“Fucking happiness.” He reclines in his office chair and stretches his arms over his head. “Life is changing, Brax.”

“I know that’s hard for you, but not all change is bad.”

After Violet’s death, he did everything in his power to keep things regulated, easy, safe. Sometimes I think that’s why he gravitated toward football too—it was the only time he let his emotions loose.

He leans forward and places his forearms on his desk. “You really like Madi, don’t you? I’ve never seen you this way before.”

“I do, and I’ve never felt this way. Please, just give them a chance. Let them in, and let them see the person who held my head up and out of the toilet when I had Covid and was vomiting for days. The kid who kicked Larry Johnson’s ass for pantsing me in PE class. The man who’s stood by my side when I didn’t know who to lean on.”

“Who the fuck am I going to be if I’m not Sage’s uncle?”

“You’re a moron.” I chuckle. “We’ll always be his uncles, he’ll always need his guardians, he just won’t always need us holding his hand and protecting him. Jesus, Grey. The kid is nearing six foot four.”

Finally, he laughs, and something unclenches in my stomach. My friend has been hiding behind spreadsheets and to-do lists for so long I’m afraid he won’t be able to find his way out.

“But he’s a scrawny thing. He’ll break something if he gets tackled. He gets that from you,” Grey deadpans.

“Not a chance. I’m one solid rock of muscle, my friend—what the kids call a snack.”

He picks up a pad of paper and tosses it at my head.

“Nobody is saying we have to go home, Grey. If Sage is happy here⁠—”

“And you’re happy here,” he interrupts.

“And if I’m happy here, don’t you think it’s worth a shot to see if we all could be happy here?”

“I am happy,” he snarls, and I pointedly lift my brows. “I’ll try. I have missed football.”

“I know,” I say sadly. “I wish you hadn’t given that up for me.”

Every scout in the country had picked Grey as the number one draft pick, but he skipped the draft that year to stand by my side at Omni-Reyes. We’d just received Ace’s MS diagnosis, and my father started burning down innocent people’s lives, so we walked away from football, college, everything, and we did it together, but I know it was harder for him than it was for me.

“It wasn’t for you,” he mutters. “Well, not only you. Whatever, it wasn’t a choice. Family always comes first.”

“Which is why I already turned in Sage’s health forms.”

“Asshole. You were that confident you could talk me into this?”

“No, I was that confident that you loved Sage enough to let him try.”

He nods and wakes up his screen by aggressively shoving his mouse around. “I have work to do. Have fun on your date.”

I stand to go. “You know, Madison has a lot of friends.”

The sound that Grey emits is part disgust and part horror. “I’ve met her friends. I’ll pass.”

“Care to tell me what’s going on between you and Savvy?”

“Who?”

“You know who. The tall brunette. What did she do to piss you off so badly?”

“Nothing. She made assumptions she shouldn’t have. I don’t care if she’s pissed or angry. I really have no feelings toward her at all.”

“I want Madison to be my girlfriend.” My voice cracks as though I’m fifteen again.

Slowly, he lifts his head. “You’ve never had a girlfriend.” He digs in his pocket and produces a coin.

“Neither have you,” I throw back.

“At least I’ve gone on actual dates.” He leans back in his chair and really studies me. “Are you asking for permission or for advice?”

“I— I don’t know. It’s just, it’s a big step.”

“Another change,” he says, rolling the coin through his fingers. “You want a girlfriend, and Sage wants to join a football team.”

It’s almost as though saying it out loud makes him process it in a different way because his face relaxes as he mutters it again, this time to himself.

“Maybe change is what we need, Grey.”

The line forms between his brows, but he doesn’t disagree with me. “Maybe. Send Sage up on your way out, please. Maybe I’ll take him out to dinner.”

“What do you think about me and Madison?”

“I think it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, Brax. This is something you have to do on your own. But if you want my opinion, I think she makes you happy. Now go before you’re late. And send Sage up. I’m starving.”

“Don’t forget Pops.”

“Oh, I would never,” he says sarcastically.

I chuckle and enter the hallway as Madison exits her room. She stops short when she finds me.

I stalk her slowly, even though heat rolls through my veins faster than a Bugatti.

“You look beautiful,” I whisper when I’m close enough that her light citrusy scent creates a Pavlovian response.

She juts a hip out to the side as she leans against the wall. “You haven’t even looked at my outfit.”

She’s right. I fall into her cerulean-blue eyes every time she graces me with a glimpse.

“I don’t need to.” Lifting my hand, I rub one of her curls between my thumb and forefinger. It’s so damn soft. “You always look beautiful.”

“Charmer.” She’s shaking her head while staring up at me through long, thick lashes.

“I want to kiss you.” The words mix with a rumble of desire in my chest.

“Yes. I mean, okay.”

I love that I fluster her when I’m this close. “But I’m not going to, not yet.”

“What?” She frowns. “Why not?”

“Because I’m taking you on a proper date, and a gentleman wouldn’t kiss you until you’ve gotten to know him better. Are you ready to go?”

“You’re really weird. We’re basically living together. Oh, God. Not living together, living together. I mean you’re staying in an inn that I live in. I think I’ve gotten to know you pretty well over the last couple of months.”

Leaning in so we’re sharing breath, I grin wide and carefree, then press my cheek against hers. “You want me to kiss you.”

Her chest hitches, and heat warms my neck when she exhales.

“That’s a dumb question.” She shivers, and I love the feel of it against my skin.

“It wasn’t a question, sunshine. You want me to kiss you, and I will, but I’m going to make you work for it.”

She swallows, and I feel it everywhere.

I press my lips to her cheek and hold them there a beat longer than necessary before pulling away.

Madison’s pupils have dilated, and her chest heaves. She’s fucking perfect.

She stares up at me with her lips slightly parted, and I almost give in. I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want to pin her to the wall and run my fingers and tongue over every inch of her body.

My dick agrees and twitches in my pants. It’s my sign to back away, but even space won’t be enough to ease the ache of wanting her.

“I’ll see you in a few minutes,” I say and step past her so I don’t do what every molecule in my body is screaming at me to do.

“Wait,” she calls after me, but I’m already halfway down the stairs. “Where are you going?”

“You’ll see,” I say without turning back.

Pops is sitting in his recliner in his favorite position—feet up, hands clasped behind his head, wearing a smile that probably matches my own.

And then he starts whistling.

Sage walks out of the kitchen with a slice of pizza that’s bigger than his entire head.

“Hey, Grey wants to talk to you about dinner, he’s upstairs.”

Sage gives me a two-finger salute, crams half the pizza in his mouth, and walks up the stairs.

Teenagers.

“You too, Pops. Grey will be down in a bit to take you out, so you better behave.”

“Pfft. I always do,” he says while rolling his feet back and forth on the footrest. “I’m looking forward to going.”

“I think Grey is too. I’ll see you in a minute.”

He nods, and I go out the front door.

Cian really came through for me today. After we finished pulling wallpaper from the third floor that looked as though it hadn’t been used in a hundred years, he ran out to pick up flowers for me. They should be in my truck.

Opening the driver’s side door, I find them beautifully wrapped and resting on a giant box of extra-small condoms.

There’s no way I’m carrying these into the house, but if I leave them in the truck, Madison might see them, and that’s not going to happen.

Picking them up, I spin in a circle, but the only thing I can find is the mailbox, so I jog over to it and shove them inside.

Do not forget to get them out before Pops does. That’s the last thing I need.

Then, with the flowers in my hand, I walk up the front steps and ring the doorbell.

“Mads, that’s for you.” I hear Pops shout.

When I lean to the left, I find him waving at me through the window with both hands.

He is a loveable menace.

The door swings open, and Madison stands under the glow of the hallway light. I take her in as though it’s the first time seeing her, and maybe it is, because what I see tonight is my future.

She bites her bottom lip and tilts her head as if she’s thinking.

I pull the flowers from behind my back and hand them to her.

“Blue looks stunning on you, sunshine. It is definitely your color.” She’s wearing a cornflower-blue form-fitting sweater dress that she’s paired with ankle boots. Her jewelry is minimal, something so opposite of the women I’ve grown up around, and it makes me want her even more.

The small gold cross she wears highlights the slight dip in the neckline of her dress and matches the gold bracelets that jingle on her left wrist.

“I mean, you really are gorgeous.”

The dimples on each side of her cheeks deepen, and she swings the door wide so I can enter.

Pops stands to the side holding a shotgun, and I about shit my pants.

“What the hell, Pops? What are you doing with a gun?”

His cheeks twitch as if he’s holding back laughter. “Just what are your intentions with my granddaughter, young man?”

Young man? He didn’t call me boy, or Braxton. It hits me then. He’s playing a part—he’s giving us both something we never had, and a wall of gratitude wells up inside me, even if I wish he’d put the fucking gun away.

“Her last beau never picked her up, never held the door. That jackass even made her pay. That no-good son of a trucker’s hat with no cap⁠—”

“Ah, Pops.”

He peers over his shoulder at Madison.

“You’re getting a little off-topic,” she reminds him.

“Whoa. What the hell’s this?” Grey asks from the stairs, attempting and failing to keep Sage behind him.

Pops points to me with the end of the shotgun. “I’m finding out what his intentions are with my granddaughter.” He finishes his sentence with a sharp nod of his head, as though that’s the end of the discussion.

“Oh, this is going to be good.” Sage plants his ass on the stairs to watch.

“This is something I’d like to see too.” Grey plops down on a stair just in front of Sage.

“Pops. Don’t be ridiculous.” Madi reaches for the door, but I take her hand in mine and turn toward her grandfather with her behind me.

He shrugs, pulls the trigger and a little flag shoots out that says Pop!!!

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Grey chuckles. Sage sits just behind him with his chin in both hands, howling in laughter.

“Jesus, Pops.” I rub my chest as though he shot me while everyone else laughs at my expense.

Whatever. Pops wants this, and I’m willing to play along.

“My intentions, sir, are to treat Madison with respect, get to know her when she isn’t everyone’s right hand, and then bring her home safely because I am a perfect gentleman.”

Grey chokes and makes a rolling motion with his hand as if to continue, but his shoulders shake with laughter.

So what if perfect gentleman isn’t exactly what I’d call my encounters with other women? Madison isn’t other women.

She’s mine.

As soon as I think it, I know it’s true. I also know that I’ll do whatever necessary to make it my reality.

“Fine. Fine,” Pops says, tossing the toy gun onto the sofa. Then he makes an I’m watching you gesture with his fingers. “I’ve got eyes everywhere. Remember that.”

Then he literally doubles over laughing. With one hand on his thigh, he slaps the other on his knee. “Go, have fun,” he says in between fits of laughter.

Madison tugs on my arm and leads me back to the front door. I’m not even sure when I started moving closer to the slightly unhinged man with a toy gun.

“Bye,” she calls over her shoulder. Once I’m on the porch, she pulls the door shut with a loud snap. “Sorry.

“He does enjoy keeping things interesting.” I laugh, and her shoulders relax. “Ready?”

“You didn’t tell me where we’re going.”

Placing my palm on the small of her back, I guide her down the stairs and to my truck. “It’s a surprise.”

“Then you should know, I don’t handle surprises very well.”

“If you hate it, then we’ll leave. Tonight is all about you.”

I follow her into the truck, and my chest puffs up with pride when she slides to the middle seat. I may even strut as I round the hood and get in.

My hand skims her knee, and I gently squeeze it before turning the ignition. “I like you here.”

“I like being here,” she says softly. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me where we’re going?”

“And ruin the surprise? Not a chance, sunshine. Not a chance.”