Page 20 of Billionaire's Coastal Haven

“I’ll worry about that.” Landon swipes his finger across the counter, and it comes away coated in grime.

We follow Landon into the basement. This space has always felt off to me. My little kid brain played tricks on me, imagining ghosts haunted the corners of the oddly shaped rooms.

As an adult, that feeling of wrongness remains. Why build an extra library down here when they have a gigantic one upstairs? Why build four sets of stairs that lead to adjacent rooms? Did they really use the theater for stage shows?

What other secrets does this house hold?

“We’ll build a workout facility, sauna, and cold plunge. If we need it, we can set up space for a spa. Massages, facials…that sort of thing usually pays for itself.” Landon’s shoulders droop.

“If you don’t want a spa, don’t build one. We can open one in town. Give people a reason to venture out.”

“The restaurant can fall under that category too.” Archer offers. “Then the main bedroom can stay a bedroom.”

“Nah.” Landon points toward stairs to the kitchen. “People get cranky when they have to go too far for food. If it’s raining, I don’t want to make our guests drive.”

A flash of ice skitters under my skin. “Thank you,” I blurt.

The men stare at me, Landon with confusion, Collin and Archer with sympathy.

“Anyway, we’re in agreement. Private space in the north wing. Restaurant in the living room. Collin will draft blueprints, and we can decide how big to build each cabin once we get a survey to determine the best locations for each.” I clap my hands and bolt up the stairs.

“Her mom died in a car accident, coming home from the estate in a rainstorm.” Collin’s voice carries up the stairs after me.

My neck heats. I’m sure they’re staring at the back of my head as I run away.

I got what I needed out of this meeting, but it didn’t go the way I planned. I lost my cool. I bargained instead of holding my ground.

But a win is a win, right?

We’re building a resort. It’s not the haven Landon wants, but there’s opportunity for it to be more than any of us could have imagined.

Zoe

Dad still lives in the house where I grew up. On the south side of town, tucked into the corner of a cul-de-sac, our tiny two-bedroom home needs a fresh coat of paint. I park my car in the driveway behind his pickup truck and grab the groceries I bought after leaving Landon, Collin, and Archer at the Reeves estate.

“Dad?” I brace the door with my elbow to get the bags through the door.

“Hey, Baby Girl.” He sits at the kitchen table with papers strewn across its surface.

I kiss the top of his bald head. “Have you been outside today?”

He waves away my words and thumbs through the stack of paperwork I brought him from his office last week. “The Reynolds upped the price for marine gas again. John filed a complaint.”

“Gas is more expensive everywhere. Everything’s more expensive, so…”

He taps the page. “No, this is different. The Reynolds are gouging. Time to remind them they can’t get rich stealing from their neighbors. Shoulda never let them buy the marina in the first place. The town should own it. Be better for everyone.”

I peel the pieces of paper out of his hands and tuck them into a manila envelope. “How about a walk? The fresh air will—”

“Did you bring the salt and vinegar chips I like?”

“The doctor said—”

He takes the bag from my hand and dumps the contents on the table. “You need to call Albert at Northwest garbage and find out why they skipped pickup for Harbor Row on Tuesday. Star Crossed needs to fix their sign. People don’t like the puns they’re using. We need quaint, not funny.”

I place my palm on his. His hand dwarfs mine as I tug him to his feet. “When we get back, I will help you figure out what to do about the price of gas and utilities, but I doubt Barbara will give up her punny signs.”

He scowls but slips on his sneakers, and I hand him his rain jacket just in case.