Page 30 of Falling for the Billionaire Best Man

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KAISEN

It was later than usual before I set out for my run. I hit the beach this time, bored with running through town. The salty breeze stung my lungs with every breath. Running had always been my escape, my way of clearing my head, but today, it wasn’t working. Not entirely.

I couldn’t stop thinking about her—Dorie. The way she’d glared at me when I’d pulled her into that gazebo, the fire in her eyes when she’d told me to delete those photos. She was all sharp edges and soft curves. It was a contradiction I couldn’t stop thinking about. She intrigued me. Most women I met were too eager to play along with whatever game I started, but not her. She called me on my bullshit, and I wasn’t used to that.

My feet pounded against the damp sand as I pushed myself harder, trying to outrun the thoughts that kept circling back to her. It wasn’t like me to care what anyone thought, especially someone I barely knew. But there was something about Dorie that stuck in my mind like a burr. Maybe it was the way she’d stood her ground, refusing to let me charm her. Or maybe it was the way she’d looked at me when she thought I didn’t notice.

I noticed.

She could say what she wanted, but she did find me a little attractive. Why she wasn’t taking what I was offering befuddled me.

I pushed the thoughts aside and pushed harder. There were people walking on the beach, taking advantage of the nice day.

A couple of kids were flying a kite with their mother doing her best to keep it from getting free. An older man tossed a tennis ball for his golden retriever, who bounded through the water with unbridled joy. I turned and jogged back with my legs burning.

I returned home from my run, my shirt clinging to my back with sweat. I tossed my keys onto the counter, still breathing hard. It was a damn good run. Running on sand was no joke. It was twice the workout. I had a feeling my calves were going to be sore tomorrow.

Spring had rolled in. The weather was perfect. I could have stayed out all morning, but I didn’t want to completely wipe myself out. It was sunny and warm, with just enough of a breeze to keep things comfortable.

I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and sucked half of it down, with my chest heaving.

It was so damn quiet. The downtime was starting to wear on me. I wasn’t used to this. My life was structured, regimented, and predictable. I didn’t do “downtime.” And yet, here I was, stuck in Cape May, waiting for Cullen and Eliza to finally show up so we could get this wedding nonsense over with. If I would have known he was going to fuck off for a week, I would have stayed in New York.

The last time I’d talked to Cullen, they were still in Atlantic City, living it up while I was left to deal with the logistics. The bachelor party was supposed to be in New York City, but now Cullen and Eliza wanted a shared bachelor/bachelorette party in Atlantic City. Cullen had asked me to use my connections to book some suites, and against my better judgment, I agreed. If it were anyone but Cullen asking this of me, I’d be back in Manhattan right now, back to my normal life. Back to doing everything in my power to get Dorie out of my head.

But she was still there, lingering in my thoughts like a stubborn itch I couldn’t scratch. It had been several days since I’d seen her. I hadn’t heard a word from her since we left the venue. I told myself it was fine, that I didn’t care, but the truth was, I did. I cared more than I wanted to admit. I had been trying to think of an excuse to talk to her, but it all felt ridiculous.

I finished the water and looked outside.

I was bored.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t spend another day in purgatory. I started upstairs, feeling the twitch in my calves from the run on the beach. “Ouch,” I muttered.

I headed into the bedroom and peeled off the shirt while kicking off my tennis shoes. I took a quick shower, battling the devil on my shoulder that had been begging me to send Dorie a few late-night texts. I washed my hair, letting the shampoo run down my back.

I stepped out of the shower and toweled off, still feeling the residual heat of the run. My reflection in the fogged-up mirror stared back at me, water droplets clinging to my skin.

I threw on a clean shirt and a pair of shorts. Before I could think about it, I grabbed the keys and left the house.

This was probably stupid, but I was doing it anyway. I decided to just go to her bakery. I knew she’d be there, even though the place was already closed for the day. It sounded like she spent every waking minute of her life there, working behind the scenes. And when I arrived, I was proven correct.

I knocked on the back door instead of peering through the glass entrance like an idiot.

Dorie pushed open the door with a smile on her face. The moment she saw me, her smile faltered.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone wary. She was covered in flour and smears of icing.

That was tough to take. Was I really so much of a dick she didn’t even want to see me?

“Are you that disappointed?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light and make it seem like I was joking.

“I’ve been waiting all day for a delivery,” she replied. “I thought that was who it was.”

“What are you doing right now?” I asked, sweeping my gaze over her. I felt a strange tug low in my belly at the way her hair was falling out of the clips attempting to hold it in place. She looked flustered, a little pink in the cheeks, and utterly adorable. She sighed and ushered me inside, where I was momentarily taken aback by the number of things she had going on all at once.

The bakery was a whirlwind of activity—cakes in various stages of completion, piping bags scattered across the counter, and the undeniable smell of baked goods.