Page 49 of Falling for the Billionaire Best Man

Dorie hovered nearby as I started unpacking the machine. She was nervous—I could see it in the way she chewed her bottom lip and kept glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. But there was something else there too, something that made my chest tighten. She was trying so hard to act normal, to pretend that kiss hadn’t rattled her, but it was written all over her face.

I knelt to start assembling the base of the machine.

“Do you, uh, need help? I can hold things or something.”

I glanced up at her. She looked so unsure, so unlike the fiery woman who’d kissed me back in the car. It was endearing, and it made me want to rattle her even more.

“Sure,” I said, holding up a piece of the machine. “Hold this steady while I screw it in.”

I spent another ten minutes screwing this and that and attaching the waterline.

“Why are you so handy if you sit in front of a computer all day?” Dorie asked after a while.

I glanced at her, smirking. “I don’t sit in front of a computer all day. Not anymore, at least.”

“Now you sit and count stacks of money?” she retorted.

I chuckled. “No. I have people who do that for me.”

“Then what do you do?”

I shrugged, tightening a bolt. “I run a company. Well, companies. Seely Enterprises has a lot of revenue streams. Real estate, tech, hospitality. I’ve got a pretty large property portfolio. I’m frugal where I need to be, but I like expensive watches and bottles of scotch.”

Dorie nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I bought myself a bracelet from Tiffany’s after I graduated from pastry school,” she said softly. “It cost more than my old rent in New York.”

I looked at her, surprised. “Why haven’t I seen you wear it?”

She shrugged, her cheeks turning pink. “I’m afraid to lose it. I just look at it sometimes, imagining what it would be like to have opportunities to dress up and wear it.”

So, she had a thing for jewelry. I wouldn’t have known if she hadn’t said something about it. The woman barely wore any makeup, let alone rings or necklaces. She had on a pair of simple diamond stud earrings but that was it. I filed that information away for later.

After I finished setting up the machine, I gestured for her to come closer. “Alright, let me show you how to use this thing.”

She hesitated, then stepped closer. “You know, you could’ve just replaced my old Mr. Coffee for fifty bucks at Target instead of going through all this hassle. This thing is all bells and whistles. It looks like it belongs a hundred years in the future.”

I chuckled. “Where’s the fun in a boring machine? Bells and whistles are good. I mean, a good cup of coffee in the morning can make or break your entire day.”

Having Dorie this close was doing weird things to my brain. I felt short of breath and my pulse quickened as she moved closer to me. Her natural scent was sweet and intoxicating. I was drawn to her in a way I couldn’t explain. That was when I knew I was done for. I wanted her. Badly. More than anything I’d ever wanted in my life.

I had a feeling I could probably take her to bed. That kiss said there was definitely a chance. But Dorie wasn’t a one-night stand. If I crossed that line, there was no going back. I would create a chasm between us that would cause problems for the actual wedding. I didn’t want the drama even if I wanted to taste her lips and explore all her curves.

I backed away from her like she was a live bomb about to go off and ruin my life.

“Thanks for the machine and setting it up,” she said. “And for saving me tonight. I needed a friend, and you were there. Thank you.”

Her friend.

I should’ve been happy that she liked me enough to consider us that close, but deep down, it felt like an insult. I wanted to be so much more than her friend. Even for a night. An hour. A single second. I debated pressing her up against the counter right then and there, doing things friends definitely shouldn’t do together.

The little devil on my shoulder was whispering in my ear, telling me it wouldn’t hurt to steal another kiss. Maybe get my hands on those beautiful breasts.

Just as I was about to make a move, her phone rang.

She looked at the screen. “Sorry.”

She walked out of the kitchen and into the living room. I tried not to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help overhearing bits of the conversation. She mentioned finding another letter on her door that morning and not knowing who to talk to. I heard her mention something about a lawyer and an investor. When she hung up, her expression was shattered.

“What was that about?” I asked. “Is everything okay?”