Page 25 of The Billionaire's Special Relationship

“It’s notworth it,” she said. “It was only twelve dollars.”

Stuart looked at her. “You said your whole life was in that car. Are you telling me that twelve dollars and a phone represent the whole of your life?”

“I’m a rideshare driver. Yes, my phone is my whole life. It’s how I get my gigs.”

“You can’t get too many without a ride.”

A frown of concern appeared on her pretty face. She knew it too.

“What’s your gameplan?”

“I’m gonna go home and take a shower first and foremost,” she said. “Get this jail off of me.”

“And then?”

There was no realand then. Just a maybe. “My cousin Stace is the assistant manager over at the Waffle House. She used to be an assistant manager over at Argyles before they laid her off. She’ll probably throw me some waitressing work until I can . . .” She couldn’t even think of what her next move would be after that.

Which was a shame to Stuart. A kind young lady like her shouldn’t have to work so hard. But his motto had always been to let people figure that shit out for themselves. Just like he had to figure it out once upon a time. You get involved to your own detriment. And he never did anything to his own detriment. He was going to take her home and get on with his own situationships. Because he had many to resolve. “Where do you live?”

“On Beaver Avenue,” Tabby said. “But if it’s out ofyour way, you can just drop me off downtown. It’s in walking distance from there. You know Beaver Avenue?”

“I know it well,” he said. “I used to live a couple blocks from there, on Hayden.”

She looked at him. “Really? The only thing over there is the Hayden Street Trailer Park.”

He nodded. “That’s where I was born and raised.”

“Wow. Really? You’ve come a long way from there to a Porsche.”

Stuart smiled, but didn’t respond to that. “Where on Beaver do you live?”

“I own a small, blue house right near the elementary school.”

Stuart looked at her. “You own your own home?”

“I sure do. Why? You look surprised.”

“I don’t know why I assumed you were a renter.”

“Nope. My cousin Stacy let me stay with her and her husband a couple years after I got out of high school, when all my siblings left Ohio.”

“What about your parents?”

“My mother died when I was little. My father is a jazzman. He left one day and didn’t come back. I don’t know if he’s dead or alive.”

“And you don’t care, right?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she said with a smile, which actually pleased Stuart. He wouldn’t have given a damn had his father pulled a disappearing act on him. But she wasn’t him and he was hoping she’d keep it that way.

“But while Stace let me stay with her,” Tabby continued, “I took full advantage of that free rent. I got my credit together. Saved every dime I could to get me a downpayment together. Made sure I stayed on that same job. And then I got a loan for my house when I was twenty-three. It was a fixer-upper. It needed a lot of love. But the bones were good. So I bought it and fixed it up. It’s small. It’s only two bedrooms and one bath. But it’s more than enough room for me.”

“That’s excellent, Tabby,” Stuart said heartfelt as he glanced at her. “I’m proud of you.”

He didn’t mean to go that far. It almost sounded condescending, which was not his intention at all. But once it was out there, he didn’t try to take it back. He was a proud of her! That was a fact. She was smart enough to make the best of her challenging situation. He respected that.

Tabby couldn’t recall the last time somebody actually gave her a compliment. Or said they were proud of her. That just didn’t happen in her life. It felt weird to hear it, especially coming from somebody she didn’t know like that. But it felt wonderful too. “Thanks,” she said.

They glanced at each other, as both of them felt as if there was some kind of connection there. But then they looked away. They were going their separate ways soon. What kind of connection could they really have?