Only a Date with a Billionaire (The Only Us Billionaire Romance Series Book 5) Read online

  “Really? That’s great. What kind of music do you play?”

  “We call it space rock. Mostly we manipulate digital tones and interpret the sounds of the outer limits.”

  Sophie smiled indulgently, not really having any idea what he was talking about. “Do you sing or play an instrument?” she asked, hoping that would explain things.

  “No, it’s all done on computers. It’s the way of the future.” He went on to spend the next five minutes telling her all about “EV DC”, his band.

  “What’s EV DC stand for?” That was an acronym she was not familiar with.

  “Edgar Varese was one of the original composers to work in the digital medium. So EV after him and DC for digital compositions.” Then he went on with another long explanation, detailing each of the members and their roles on the digital interface they used.

  All the while the music next door continued, causing Jonathan to talk louder and louder. “I’ll text you our demo.”

  “Sure,” she hollered back not overly interested but being polite like her mother had raised her to be. However, she was not feeling like being polite to the neighboring business. In fact, she rather felt like storming over there and pulling the plug on the sound system. She’d had enough of the blare.

  It was a boxing gym and training place of some sort. How could anyone hear instruction with that racket? Jennifer would give the guys over there a piece of her mind. She wasn’t intimidated by anyone. Except for the boys that she’d had crushes on during high school. Back then, she’d lose command of the English language, motor control, and be a blathering mess if in a five-foot vicinity of them. That was until she met Lex. However, her shortcoming had never stopped her from playing matchmaker over the years, including recently when she’d set Sophie up on a blind date. suffice it to say, she didn’t see Peter again.

  Just as Sophie almost summoned up an ounce of Jennifer’s courage to try again and bring over her box of baked goods to the boxing gym owner, the front door opened and the bruiser of a man from next door strode in.

  He had a bend along the bridge of his nose as though it had once been broken. His muscles were compact and well defined. They were the kind that came from punching a speed bag all morning. His lack of smile suggested he wasn’t the kind of person to turn down his music or watch where he was going on the sidewalk. Even if Sophie said please.

  Her heart thudded in her chest and her pulse quickened despite their early morning run in. Face to face and in the full light of day, she suddenly felt a lot like Jennifer back in high school with her crushes.

  Chapter 2

  Teagh

  It had been a long day. Heck, it had been a long year. But time was starting to return to good favor now that Teagh Coyle was settled an ocean away from his old life. He just needed some tea for an afternoon pick-me-up but could hardly resist the deliciously sweet smells coming from the bakery next door since he’d arrived at the gym that morning.

  He’d completed his own workout early on and then started with getting to the matters of launching his new business and getting it off the ground.

  The Uppercut Boxing Club was primarily an elite boxing and training facility with him as head coach. He also had instruction for novices along with self-defense classes and some other offerings. Not only that, he was excited about the partnership with the new product ProProtein, his old friend Will Wheaton’s company.

  After not being able to see any sort of future for himself, he finally had a vision and it was going to be extraordinary. After a rough patch, he’d found himself standing tall again.

  As he entered the bakery next door, he noted that it was almost the exact opposite of the gym. Whereas his colors were bold red and blue, a nod to both his newly adopted country—the US—and his native Scotland, the bakery had a soft yellow and purple palette with twinkle lights strung up along the ceiling, framed photographs of dogs arranged in a square on the wall, light wood tables that looked like maple, and a smiling woman standing behind the counter. She was petite, had honey-blond hair, and wore a T-shirt with the bakery’s name printed across it.

  Her smile stopped him in his tracks. His heart did something weird that had nothing to do with his cardio workout earlier. Though a flicker of recognition crossed her features.

  He recalled earlier that morning when he’d jogged to the gym and nearly ran into a woman on the sidewalk. He’d been drowning his thoughts in music and apparently, his spatial awareness. He could’ve knocked her over. He should’ve apologized instead of acting like an idiot. Words were trapped in his mouth.

  Teagh swallowed. He was thirsty. That was all. As he neared the woman, a smattering of freckles dotted her nose and her brown eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights.

  The bakery was busier than he’d expected with customers at tables, working on laptops at the long granite counter affixed to the brick wall and backed by a mirror, and a few by the baked goods display case debating what to order. It shouldn’t have been a surprise because it smelled and looked delicious. Not that he indulged often.

  The woman blinked a few times. “Welcome to Honey and Lavender. What can I get for you?”

  “What kind of tea do you have?” he asked, perusing the chalkboard menu hanging behind the counter. He didn’t see his usual brand, Brodies, but maybe they didn’t have that in Manhattan. It could’ve just been a Scottish thing.

  “We have several herbal varieties.” The woman went on to give an impassioned description of each one, where it was sourced, and the special blends she’d created. There was something just under the flow of her voice that reminded him of summertime, being young, free, and unhindered by the past.

  “Just tea,” he said, not interested in the fancy flavors she’d described.

  “Just tea?” she repeated.

  A grunt escaped his throat in confirmation. He had to get back to the gym.

  “To go?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “Your name please?” She held a marker aloft in one hand and a paper cup in the other.

  “Teagh,” he replied.

  She bit her lower lip.

  He swallowed again as sensation stirred just under his tattooed skin.

  “Do you mind spelling that?” she asked.

  He was used to the question and always wondered why his parents didn’t name him something simple like Jack or Patrick. But Teagh was a family name and he’d gone through life spelling it for everyone coming and going since he’d learn how to speak.

  He cleared his throat. “T-E-A, tea, like the drink you’re pouring me and then G-H. Hard G. The H is silent.”

  “Teagh,” she repeated in that pretty voice as she penned it on the cup. She passed it down the counter to a pale, skinny guy. “Can I interest you in a muffin or scone? Freshly baked today.” She was altogether very cheerful.

  The corner of his lip twitched. He eyed the case, tempted, then shook his head. He doubted the scones were as good as the ones back home. “Pass,” he said.

  Nonplussed, she pressed her lips together and moved to ring him up. Her finger hovered over the total key on the register. She opened her mouth and then closed it. Then waved her hand.

  He couldn’t tear his eyes from her.

  “It’s on me. I’m the owner here. I can give you a drink on the house. An item from the case too, if you change your mind. After all, we’re neighbors.”

  He grunted. “Well, I can’t return the favor so I’d like to pay you. What do I owe?” He dug out his wallet and took out a few bills, still getting used to the US dollar and currency conversion.

  “No, no. Your money isn’t good here.” Her smile grew as though she’d won something. “Neighbors help each other out. You needed tea, I have some. You can spot me a cup of sugar sometime.” She was waving her hands as she spoke then as though realizing it, started to withdraw them.

  He reached out and gripped her hand firmly in his, placing the bills there. Her skin was soft and warm in contrast to his thickly callous
ed mitts. His father said they were work hands perfect for the farm. However, he found they were most useful in the ring.

  “There’s nothing sweet about me,” Teagh said.

  Her smile had faded and she stared at him as though alarmed, in shock. That wasn’t his intention, but there was no sense in getting any ideas about the pretty baker next door. He was single for a reason and nothing would change that. He had his new life and that was all he wanted.

  “Well, thank you,” she stammered as though not sure how to respond.

  He walked to the end of the counter to wait for his tea. Moments later the skinny guy called, “Tea-g-h,” saying all the syllables despite his pronunciation lesson.

  Teagh corrected the kid then took his cup. He sensed eyes on him, challenging, questioning, but it wasn’t the skinny guy. Rather, it was the bakery owner.

  He lifted an eyebrow, wondering if she had something more to say, but she disappeared into the back room.

  Outside, he took a deep breath of the autumn air then a sip of the tea before heading back into the gym. The bakery door jingled behind him. He turned around and the baker appeared holding a box.

  “I was going to bring these to you this morning, but you looked busy.” Her full lips tentatively lifted at the corners.

  “Aye,” he said.

  He had to get some privacy curtains or screens for the front window. The gym was his first storefront and he was still checking items off the to-do list. The grand opening was in a little over a week’s time.

  “Aye? Like Aye aye, matey?” She laughed. She bent her arm and crooked it like a pirate.

  When he didn’t reply with a laugh in return she shifted from foot to foot.

  “Aye, like the word yes. Like we say in Scotland.” He didn’t mean for his tone to sound harsh, but as of late he’d distanced himself from everyone except the grittiest of fighters. He needed to knock the rust off when interacting with ordinary, or as the case may be, pretty people.

  She squared her shoulders as though recovering from a blow and determined not to let him have the upper hand.

  The stirrings inside him persisted.

  “Aye, like you accept my gift?” She held out the box.

  He took it in one big hand, holding the tea with the other. “I’ll leave it for the flooring guys. They’re finishing up tomorrow.” He couldn’t afford to even take a bite.

  Her brow furrowed.

  A beat passed with the two of them standing on the sidewalk as the late-day traffic braked and honked in the background.

  “Oh, okay. I hope the flooring guys enjoy the blueberry muffin, the chocolate eclair, lemon bar, and the orange, cranberry, and cream scone.” Her smile returned as she named each item.

  He grunted. It sounded delightfully delicious. But he wouldn’t give in.

  “You can let them know that if they enjoy the goodies they can stop by anytime. I bake everything fresh daily.”

  “Will do.”

  A few people brushed past them and entered the bakery. The bell’s jingle should’ve signaled her to go inside, but she remained standing there.

  “Thanks,” he said, tipping the box in her direction.

  She wrung her now empty hands. “Also, could you ask everyone to keep the music at a more moderate level. It was hard to hear earlier—” She thumbed the shop behind her.

  He nodded and added soundproofing to his mental to-do list. He liked the way loud music drowned out his thoughts, leaving him with little more than the thud in his chest and sweat pouring down his face while he worked out.

  He nodded then turned to go inside, leaving her standing on the sidewalk. As the door shut behind him the emptiness returned, but for once, he didn’t turn up the music.

  Instead, Teagh went to the office to get some work done, schedule the various trades to have the space finished, and review the job applications he’d received.

  He logged onto the computer, consulting what he had left. For some reason the pull-up bar hadn’t been delivered, he needed mat cleaner, the first aid kit, the sign above the entry, and more...

  He tried to focus but felt restless. Was it the sweet scent wafting from the box on his desk? He lifted the lid and peeked inside. The crumble top of the blueberry muffin was tempting as was the lemon bar sprinkled with powdered sugar, but the scone? He told himself it was a sorry excuse for a scone. He knew how to make a proper scone and the lump in the box was not it.

  Teagh pushed the box aside and once more tried to concentrate, but the restlessness wasn’t so much caused by his sense of smell, but rather the voice echoing in his mind.

  The baker’s voice asking him for his order and to keep his music down. Everything else she’d said was almost like a melody, a song he wanted to play on repeat, and to hear her say his name.

  He sighed. The last woman who’d said his name had done so with vicious contempt and he’d never revisit that. No way would he even let himself think about women or dating or any of it. He’d been ruined and was only finding his footing as he made a fresh start a world away.

  Teagh had the opportunity to open his own gym. No, he’d created the opportunity and couldn’t let anything come between him and success.

  Still, the song of the baker’s voice played in his head. He clicked off the computer and went into the main room. There was a free weights section, the battle ropes, the bags—both heavy and for speed...

  He was about to blow off some steam and turn on the stereo system when a commotion sounded from behind the metal back door of the building. A female voice, her voice, yelled something, but it was muffled and from outside.

  He burst through the door to the back alley to find the baker staring at him, once more, wide-eyed.

  She’d been backed against a brick wall. Fear rippled across her features whereas when he’d first entered the bakery it was more like confusion had flitted there. A man wearing a ripped black jacket and wielding a knife leered at her, explaining her stark fear.

  Teagh didn’t hesitate and launched into action.

  Chapter 3

  Sophie

  Sophie’s mother had prepared her for life in the big city with countless emails reporting attacks, thefts, pickpockets, and worse.

  She had pepper spray, but it was in her purse.

  She had her wits, but they were stunned by the glint of the knife held by a thin man wearing a filthy and torn jacket.

  She had her voice, but it was caught in her throat.

  The articles and warnings from her mother did not prepare her for the fear spiking through her veins or the nausea rising in her belly.

  She’d just gone outside to take out the trash. The man had jumped out from behind the dumpster, startling her. Reflexively she’d lifted her hands in the air, palms out, in a gesture meant to show her assailant that she meant no harm.

  She didn’t have any valuables on her person and the cash from the day was locked in the safe in the small office inside.

  What did he want?

  Teagh appeared, sending her mind swarming with a mixture of relief and foreboding. His expression was all rage, wrath, and ill intention. His features were tight, shadowed. He jumped between Sophie and the man, who quickly leaped back. The attacker’s eyes flashed with terror. Teagh lifted his thick arm, corded with muscle, preparing to pound the guy. Sophie feared one blow would do the attacker in. The guy’s matted hair was greasy and he had an overall emaciated look. If not for the weapon, he could scarcely hurt a fly. She finally cried out, but Teagh’s fist had descended.

  However, like a spooked rat in a basement, the man slipped to his knees before pressing back to his feet and scurrying away.

  Teagh’s deep voice and Scottish accent probably could’ve scared the guy off on its own.

  His broad shoulders heaved with an angry exhale as he made to take after the guy, but Sophie reached for the sleeve of his Henley. Her own chest rose and fell with fear and adrenalin. Their eyes met.

  His dark. Hers light.

  His wi
th ferocious anger. Hers with deep gratitude.

  They stood there another moment locked in silence except for the sound of them breathing, still alive, unscathed.

  At last, Sophie said, “Thank you. I think I owe you a great deal more than a box of baked goods.”

  He shook his head. “No, but I suggest you look after yourself. Maybe bring a friend outside with you when you have to take out the trash.”

  She would, but she hadn’t made too many of those since moving to New York. She’d been too busy getting the bakery off the ground. As soon as she had time, she’d get out there, meet new people, and maybe even find a new choir to join.

  At a whooshing sound from down the alley, Teagh’s head jerked in that direction. But it was just the wind rustling some rubbish and leaves.

  Twilight was quickly descending and after her scare, Sophie was eager to get home. Yet, she felt perfectly safe with Teagh. Sure he was brawny and a boxer, but beneath that, she sensed that he was the kind of person who’d do the right thing no matter the situation. He could’ve knocked the attacker out but had stopped himself, well, at least when Sophie interfered.

  In fact, he had done the right thing by dropping whatever he’d been doing in the gym and jumping to her aid. It wasn’t that she wanted her assailant to be harmed, but threatening someone with a knife was extreme to say the least. She was grateful he’d heard the commotion as she’d backed into the wall, stumbling over some crates and other refuse. She was also thankful it hadn’t been worse or resulted in an actual fight. There was no telling what would’ve happened with the guy wielding the knife.

  Maybe Teagh wouldn’t be such a terrible neighbor after all.

  His attention remained fixed on the direction the guy had escaped as though anticipating his return.

  She cleared her throat, eager to lock up for the day. She’d have to properly address the issue of a vagrant behind the bakery and make sure her employees were safe as well. “Thanks again, Teagh.”