Page 114 of The Rebel Billionaire

I'd thought we'd fallen in love at my house, while we were pretending we were fuck buddies and he'd helped me strip paint. Andwehad.

That was where we took those first, hesitant steps toward each other, where we'd realized what we had was so much more thanjustsex.

But here, in this mess of a rehab we'd bought together, this was where we really fell in love. Not that first flush of fire andheart.

The day to day kindoflove.

The kind thatlasts.

This house was where I discovered that we were both demons for a schedule, were obsessed with spreadsheets, and went a little crazy when materials were delayed. Where I'd learned that he could function on almost no sleep, but he discovered the same turned me into a crankymonster.

We'd figured out so many things in the past five months. Lucas was neat. Me, not so much. He didn't mind my being messy, as long as I put away our tools and didn't leave food sitting in the sink. I could handle that. My mess was mostly of the clothes on the floorvariety.

I found out that he hated doing laundry and had about eight thousand pairs of cargo pants and an equal number of black t-shirts so he could avoid running out and didn't have to go shopping. Needless to say, I took over washing ourclothes.

Lucas still had his place next door, but he'd pretty much moved in with me over the past few months. At first, he'd moved me in with him while my contractors finished the upstairs and the floors at my place. The work was scheduled to take two months but ended up takingthree.

That was the only delay we didn't mind. By the time the schedule got pushed back, we'd closed on the mid-century modern and had ourhandsfull.

Lucas was working at Sinclair Security, leading a team of IT specialists who also handled field work. I wasn't exactly sure what that meant. Lucas said I didn't need to know the details, but that it was mostly not-dangerous. I was focused on 'not-dangerous' and ignoring 'mostly'. He loved it, and that was all I caredabout.

He worked on the flip house with me after hours, leading to a lot of late nights, picnic dinners on a tarp, and sometimes, spontaneous nakedness. I was taking real estate classes during the day along with managing the renovation, and I was thinking about studying for my contractor's license, though I'd heard the test was a bitch. Maybe not this year, but it was onmylist.

Everything had come together so easily. Even moving into my house. Once the upstairs was finished and the floors were done, there wasn't much left other than some details on theoutside.

I loved Lucas's place. It was gorgeous and comfortable and it reminded me of him. But my house had been my dream since the first moment I'd seen it. I wanted to live there and nowhere else. But only if Lucas waswithme.

As with everything, once we'd finally untangled our fears from our hearts, Lucas made it easy for me. We'd been examining the final touches in the master suite, the blue-grey walls and crisp white trim, when he said, "Do you want new furniture? Or should we just move mystuffin?"

I thought about it, stunned by his offer. He'd renovated his own home from the studs out and I knew he was attached to it. We hadn't talked about what we'd do when mine wasfinished.

Life had been so good, I hadn't wanted to bring up anything that might cause tension. I should have known Lucas wouldn't let thathappen.

"Are you sure?" I asked. He'd pulled me into his arms andkissedme.

When he was done and my knees were weak, he'd said, "I'm sure. You just have to decide about thefurniture."

That part was easy. I loved his bed. The dark walnut would look gorgeous against the cool tones of the paint and thewhitetrim.

"Let's move your stuff over," I said. "Your bedroom set will fit in here and we can put the TV and couches in the living roomfornow."

So we had. Lucas must have wanted to be in my house as much as I did because he had movers scheduled for the next day. Before I knew it, we were really and truly livingtogether.

Quietly, without making a big deal about it, he suggested he put his house on the market. I'd agreed. It sold within a month, and a month after that, we had a sweet family livingnextdoor.

Life was just aboutperfect.

I had Lucas. I was putting together a career I loved. The only cloud in the sky was Gage. He was still MIA, and Lucas's guy hadn't had any good news since he'd first confirmed Gage wasalive.

A truck pulled into the driveway beside mine. Lucas, off work early, here to go over the final details on the house before it hit the market. I didn't try to stop the giddy grin that spread across my face at the sightofhim.

He unfolded his tall frame from his truck and headed up the driveway, stopping for only a second to send my truck a smug, appraising look as he walkedpastit.

Did I mention that he bought me a newtruck?

I argued for about a minute when he brought it home. It was smaller than his but nicer, with leather, navigation, an upgraded sound system—all the good stuff. He'd driven it home one day and handed me the keys with a long look that ordered me not to sayaword.

I tried to tell him to take it back. Lucas was having none of it. He interrupted me with a kiss—Lucas's preferred method of getting me to shut up—and when I was dizzy from his mouth on mine, he said, "Princess, just take the keys and let it go. I hate that thing you're driving. I know you think it's good enough for you. But I don't. Every time I look at it, I want to push it over acliff."