Without Warning: A Billionaire Romance (Playboys of New York Book 5) by JA Low (the best novels to read .TXT) 📕

looked more pathetic than inspiring photo opportunities. I shook my head, thinking some people were just better left alone.

As I turned the final corner and turned the steep hill up to his driveway, heavy evergreens loomed. They dominated the driveway and my vision just like the man that lived beyond them. I said a silent prayer that the gravel of the road wouldn’t wash out while I was up delivering this dumb order. It would be just my luck that I’d get stranded on the top of a mountain with a caveman. I didn’t have time for it, which is why getting in and getting out was my only priority.

I pulled to a slow stop in the same spot I’d parked before, cautiously coming around the edge of my car as my eyes scanned the workshop I’d found him in earlier, and what looked to be a hand-hewn log cabin beyond. It was ironic, really, he had the most beautiful view in Cherry Falls, but he carried storm clouds around with him all day.

Just as I unbuckled the sunflowers from the passenger seat and turned with the armful in my hands, I saw a small window upstairs light up, filling with steam a moment later. “Shit.”

If I had to guess, that tiny window looked like a bathroom, and the big man inside of it had probably just stepped into the shower. I took in the pristine silence, inhaled the pine-scented air and let the mist off the bay roll over my cheeks. This place was serene, probably not bad at all outside of the company.

“Here goes nothing.” I took the steps quietly, approaching the cabin door, ready to knock and run, leaving the flowers on the doorstep, when the sound of music washed over me. An older song I’d heard my dad listen to a thousand times, one he always stopped on when it came on the radio. The sappy chorus, sweet and slow and crooning about being the inspiration for everything felt ironic.

I tapped on the door softly, surprised when it opened easily. My eyebrows shot up, my feet walking ahead of me as I crossed the threshold and came into the homey, almost warm household. “Hello?”

My eyes tracked around the space, registering the curling stairway that led to a loft. Jon Secada crooned on about love and being together; I was enamored with Maverick Wright’s life in front of me. I took another few steps into the kitchen and set the vase of flowers on the nearby table. Something smelled delicious, bubbling softly from the stove, and pictures decorated the walls. A flagstone fireplace dominated one wall in the living room, but a wall of photos flanking the other side drew me closer. A baby, sleeping sweetly in her dad’s arms, tiny little pink cap on her head that announced the name: Aspen.

My eyes continued to trail through the years, pictures of Maverick and his daughter as she grew on vacation, fishing in canoes, and running through the rows of sunflowers. One picture dominated the mantle, two smiling faces shining out, if I squinted just right I could almost make out the cocky twinkle in the man’s eyes that matched the one I’d seen in Maverick’s earlier that night in his garage.

My fingertips walked across the soft wooden mantle, hovering at the seashell picture frame that contained the happy couple. A sigh of guilt that I’d run this man ragged in my head earlier washed over me. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“Can’t for the life of me figure why you helped yourself to my home in the first place.”

My heart stopped at the cold words.

I clamped my lips together, cold terror running down my spine as I spun, eyes on the floor. “Since when did the devil listen to Jon Secada?”

“The devil?” He laughed. “You don't know half of it, little girl.”

“Don’t I, though?” My eyes hardened.

“You don’t know shit,” he hissed, eyes finally seeking out the sunflowers that dominated his small kitchen table. “Why did you bring those?”

“Bring what? The flowers?” I shook my head. “I thought you’d like them, ya know, the field and all.”

“Don’t ever bring me sunflowers.” He yanked the vase off the table and swung the door wide, throwing them full force out on the porch. They crashed on the top step, water splashing and blooms spraying across the steps.

“You’re an asshole, Maverick Wright. And don't ever little girl me again.”

His eyes nailed mine, one eyebrow rising in challenge before he clutched at the door frame and seethed, “It’s dark, you shouldn’t be up here. It’s more dangerous than your immature mind can fathom.”

I gnashed down on my teeth until it hurt, stomping down the steps and kicking the stupid man-vase as I went, the sunflower petals strewn across his steps and front yard like there'd been a wedding.

“Maverick fucking Wright. What a nightmare.”

“Can’t wait to see what kind of shit you bring me tomorrow!”

I nearly choked on his words as they carried on the wind over my shoulder.

“If I never see you again it will be too soon!” I yelled, right before I ducked behind the wheel of my car and slammed the door. “Go to hell, you grump.”

But writing Maverick Wright off wasn’t that easy. The guilt of wandering in his house and spying on his home like I had weighed heavy. I thought of his anger at the sunflowers, the way I’d wanted to choke him senseless when he’d heaved my hard work out the front door. But how much work had I put into it really, beyond five minutes and a few miles on my odometer?

I sighed, taking the first turn too quickly, the wet road causing my tires to spin on the soft edge. I huffed, tightening my hold on the wheel and slowing down as I took my time down the next few turns. I was nearly off the ridge, but when the cliff opened up and a blast of smokey mist and rain hit my car, I