Page 42 of The Billionaire Mismatch

“Mmm,” she nods. “Mmhmm. Mmhmm. Tell me that’s not the best thing you’ve ever put in your mouth.”

“It’s not the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” I say, and she giggles.

Then I step closer and use my finger to tilt her chin upwards before kissing her softly.

“Now that’s the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth…”

I can literally feel her gasp, and my lips tug into the slightest smirk. Now that the ball is back in my court, I can enjoy my diabetes-inducing snack in peace. Momentarily anyways.

The music picks back up, and Olivia lights up, spinning around to face me. “We should dance,” she says, and with a mouth still full of sugar, I shake my head.

“Nope,” I tell her.

“Oh, come on. I bet you know how,” she says.

“You bet?” I ask. “Based on what?”

She leans in, a glimmer in her smile. “Based on all the other ways you continue to surprise me,” she says. And while something flickers in my chest, it’s still a hard no.

“Fine,” she says, finally giving up. “Suit yourself. But your grumpy disposition isn’t going to stop me from having fun.”

With that, she starts to dance, making her way to the open space in the sand next to the band. It’s not a formal band by any means. It’s bongos, two acoustic guitars, and a guiro. But Olivia doesn’t seem to need more than that. She moves and sways, and within moments, other people start to join in. Couples, single women, and kids. And there’s Olivia right in the middle of it all, dancing on her own, knowing everyone is watching and not caring at all.

“You need to dance with your girlfriend,” an older lady who is apparently standing next to me says with a nudge.

“It’s not really my thing,” I tell her, eyes still on Olivia.

“In those shoes? And that suit? I have my doubts,” she says.

“And she’s not my girlfriend,” I add, and the lady spits out a laugh.

“Okay, cowboy. You’re still smitten. Now get out there and dance. A girl like that should not be dancing alone.”

And while I deeply do not want to (I haven’t danced since I was a kid) the nosy woman is right about one thing. Olivia should not be dancing alone.

I take a step forward, and she notices. After that, she wastes no time, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the middle of the improv dance floor. But once we are there, I take the lead. Because I do know what I am doing.

I take her hand and spin her around before pulling her towards me in a loose, improvised west coast style swing. One that works with the music, but also requires a dominant dancer.

As we glide through the movements, Olivia’s smile grows and the others join in. The musicians pick up the pace to keep up,and everyone is laughing and cheering. But my eyes are locked on Olivia. Every part of me is locked in on every part of her. The music comes to an end just as I pull her against me, our bodies colliding, my arms holding her tight.

And as everyone claps and cheers for the band, Olivia’s eyes meet mine, bright and alive, our panting breaths hanging in the air between us, sweet and thick.

Then I kiss her.

I couldn’t tell you why. Maybe the music. Maybe the proximity. Maybe the energy around us, or the alcohol, or her dress, or the jasmine. But whatever the reason, I kiss her. Because we’re here. Because the ocean waves are growing wild and something in me is growing even wilder. Or maybe because I just really fucking want to.

Chapter 14

Olivia

“A mimosa pitcher, please,”Sadie says to the waiter as soon as he walks up.

“A pitcher?” I chuckle. “It’s 9am.”

“It’s mimosas,” Sadie says. “This is when you drink mimosas.”

“It’s mimosa happy hour,” the waiter agrees because it’s his job. “Twelve dollar pitchers.”