Blackmailed by the Billionaire Brewer

“Cookies?”

He laughed, but his eyes were brighter than usual and Piper could see something different in them, a new light, a softening. “We talked about the bad times, and she told me stuff I never knew about because she’d tried to protect me, to do her best against almost impossible odds, and hearing it from her like that kind of changed history. I was a difficult teenager, delinquent, selfish—I couldn’t see what was right in front of my face: she loved me, but couldn’t make my dad stay, not for her and especially not for me. And he was a worthless bum, still is, as far as either of us know, so we were better off without him. She made mistakes with men, and she regrets bringing them into my life to drive me away.”

Piper touched him lightly on the shoulder, nervous of physical contact, but not wanting him to stop talking to her like this. “I’m happy you’ve made up with your mom.”

“She’s married to a good man now. He likes dogs and washes the car every Sunday morning, like normal people do. She’s happy and the house feels warm. It’s the home I never felt I had as a boy and it was overwhelming.” He shook his head and looked at the carpet. “That first night, sleeping in sheets that hadn’t been washed in an industrial laundry, in a room with all sorts of sentimental crap in it…felt so right. I cried, Piper, I actually cried a little because I’ve made such a mess of things and I want to turn back the clock.”

She lightly brushed her fingers over the top of his head. His candor was making her throat ache. “Oh, Matt…”

“That week in Boston made me realize I was just a bum like my dad except with more money. Drifting, hurting people who care for me, kidding myself that everything was okay and that I didn’t want the things everyone else does because I was so smart and rich and rebellious. I was wrong, very wrong.”

“So what do you want now?” she said softly.

“I want that home I’ve been avoiding for the last twenty-eight years. There’s a beautiful house, set right on the waterfront at Sanibel Bay, and I mean on the waterfront. Its deck leads straight onto the white sand.”

“Sounds amazing.” She injected as much enthusiasm into her voice as she could, realizing that Passion Creek still didn’t feature in his plans. “That has to be on Millionaire’s Row. I’ve walked past places like that many times and been glared at.”

“Yeah, snobs, but this place has no close neighbors. I don’t want nosy neighbors.”

“That would be taking normality way too far, right?”

He straightened, walked the few steps to the front door where his jacket was hanging and pulled a bunch of papers out of the inside pocket. “Have a look, tell me what you think.”

Her heart was weeping silently, but she took the bundle from him and flattened the papers out on the arm of the chair as he towered over her. He had gone right ahead and stolen her dream. How much more could he hurt her? “It’s right on the beach, like you said.”

“Yep.”

“And it has pale blue shutters…”

She lifted her gaze to see him smiling down at her. “I painted them. The damn owners were difficult about it before contracts were exchanged, but money talks.”

“You painted the shutters?”

“Did I get the right shade? Because this place will never be a home without you in it with me, Piper.” He sank to his knees in the tiny sitting room and squeezed her hand tightly. “I love you. I want to be the best husband in the world to you and not have to spend another night without you beside me.”

“I can’t believe you used a paintbrush.”

“I never said I did a good job.”

“I always dreamed the paint was peeling off a bit anyway. And yes, that’s exactly the right shade. Unbelievably right.”

“This is serious now.” He gently took her chin between his fingers and forced her to look at him. “Will you marry me, Piper Reilly, and come live in my shack by the sea and tell me all your dark secrets?”

Was he fooling with her? Had he really just proposed to her? “You should hear those secrets right now, because you may want to retract that question when you find out what I’m really like.”

He let go of her chin and took a step backward. “So hit me with them.”

She took a deep breath; this was like diving off the edge of a cliff. “I got busted stealing candy and cigarettes when I was fourteen, but Officer Doyle let me off if I promised to go to church every Sunday.”

“Pastor Zimmerman’s?”

“That’s the one.”

He shrugged. “No big deal, cigarettes aren’t in the same league as cars and laptops.”

She detected a twinkle in his eye. “Are you telling me that you—”

He held up his hands as if a gun was being pointed at him. “I plead whatever amendment it is, Miss Reilly.”

“Okay… my two front teeth are cosmetic implants. It cost Mom and Dad a fortune, but it means I don’t look like Jerry Mouse anymore.”

Matt tipped his head to one side and pointed to his hair. “And you think this is real?”

She let out a small laugh—there was no way his hair was fake, she’d have been able to tell, but the gesture warmed her heart. “You seem unshockable.”

He smiled, but it was a sad smile, not his usual exuberant one. “Any more not so dark secrets, honey?”

Tears clogged her throat. “You have no idea how great it feels to share all that with you.”

Matt let out a long sigh and reached out to hold her by the shoulders. “That’s what I’m here for, if you’ll let me in to your life.”

“You’ll never tell my mom and dad any of this, will you?”

He shook his head. “Cross my heart and hope to die if I do.”

“Or Sophie? She has a mouth as big as the Eisenhower Tunnel.”

“Noted. Now kiss me and say you’ll be my wife.”

She closed her eyes and sank into his kiss, losing herself in his tender embrace because she wanted this moment to last forever. She was exhausted and confused, but she could now do the one thing she had failed to do two weeks earlier. All or nothing. She ended the kiss and pushed him gently away so she could look him in the eye. “I love you, Matt, I want you to know that.”

He closed his eyes and punched the air. “Say it again.”

He was still crazy. “I love you, Matt DeLeo, but I’m scared.”