Love so Hot (Misfit Millionaires #1)

Chapter 31Lawrence

Chapter Thirty-One

Lawrence

Sunlight spills across the pillow, and I blink away the remnants of sleep. Last night's encounter floods my mind. I look to the spot beside me and feel a longing to have her there next to me.

Stretching, I throw on a robe and make my way to her bedroom. I open the door gently. Sprawled out on the bed is a mess of blankets and green hair—Willow. Her chest rises and falls with the steady rhythm of deep slumber, her lips parted just slightly. My heart skips in that cliché kind of way, but I don't push the feeling down this time.

I make my way to her and sit on the edge of the bed, watching her sleep for a tad too long.

"Willow," I finally whisper, nudging her shoulder gently. "Hey."

"Mmm," she hums, not quite ready to leave the comfort of dreams.

"Morning," I say as she blinks open those eyes—greener than any forest I've walked through.

"Morning," Willow echoes, her voice husky with sleep. She stretches like a cat, all languid and unguarded. It's a side of her I'm only just getting used to.

"Got plans today?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

"Nothing set in stone," she replies, rubbing her eyes.

"Good." My mind races with possibilities. "Because I was thinking... how about we do something different?"

Willow sits up, curiosity lighting up her face. "Like what?"

"Surprise," I grin, watching her for a reaction.

"Ooh, mysterious." She smirks, but I catch the flicker of excitement behind her calm facade.

"Trust me," I say, reaching out to tuck a strand of her dyed hair behind her ear. "You'll love it."

"Fine, I'm in," Willow agrees, the edges of her mouth tilting up.

"Great. Let's get ready then," I announce, my thoughts already wandering toward where I'm going to take her, anticipating the look on her face when she sees it all.

We both dress quickly and make our way downstairs for breakfast. The silence between us, for the first time ever, isn't uncomfortable. Willow makes some toast, while I make us some coffee, and we both sit down at the table.

"Pass the jam, will you?" Willow's voice pulls me back from my thoughts. The sunlight streams through the window, casting a golden sheen over her.

"Here you go," I say, sliding the jar across to her. "And don't forget, after this, we've got somewhere to be." I find that I rather enjoy teasing her.

She looks up, spoon mid-air, eyes alight with curiosity. "You're really not going to give me a hint?"

"Absolutely not," I chuckle, taking a sip of my coffee. "It's a surprise, remember?"

"Fine," she relents, but I can tell from her grin that the intrigue is half the fun for her. "But if you're kidnapping me to some corporate seminar, prepare to face my wrath."

"I'm scared," I tease, raising an eyebrow.

"You should be," she deadpans, the corners of her mouth twitching.

I laugh and we finish our breakfast in silence. When we're both done, I push back from the table and stand up. "Let's hit the road then. You'll need your energy for where we're going."

She gives me a look, but doesn't say anything. We step out into the crisp morning air, the promise of a beautiful day evident in the clear sky above. The gentle breeze carries the scent of pine and wildflowers, a refreshing change from the usual humidity that often blankets this town. Willow seems invigorated by the weather, a spark of vitality in her eyes as she walks towards my car.

I unlock the doors, and she slides into the passenger seat, immediately rolling down the window with a bright smile. I watch her lean out, her long hair catching in the wind as we start our journey. Normally, I would insist on keeping the windows up to preserve the pristine interior of my car, but today, something about the way she revels in the moment makes me hesitate.

The sunlight dances across her features, highlighting the freckles dusted lightly over her nose and cheeks. I'd never noticed them before and I wonder to myself how I missed them.

As we pull into our destination's parking lot, my hands are tight on the steering wheel—not from nerves, but from anticipation. This feels like more than just a day out; it's a step towards something undefined but palpably real between us.

"Here we are," I announce as I kill the engine and turn to look at Willow.

She gives me a confused look as she steps out of the car. "Are you sure you know where we are?" she asks.

I chuckle. "Yes, I very much do."

"You brought me to the botanical gardens?"

"Alright, alright, enough teasing. Come on," I say, reaching for her hand, a gesture that feels surprisingly natural.

We walk through the wrought-iron gates, and I watch her, mesmerized by her reaction. She moves with that calm grace of hers, every so often stopping to touch a leaf or smell a flower, her green eyes wide as she takes in the vibrant tapestry of colors sprawling before us.

"Larry, I love this place," she says, her voice low. "How did you know?"

"Let's just say I pay attention," I reply with a shrug, though inside, my heart is pounding. Seeing her like this—happy, relaxed, in her element—stirs something within me that I didn't even know was there.

"Thank you," she whispers, turning to me with a smile that outshines even the most exotic of the flowers around us.

"Anytime," I say, smiling back. And I mean it. Anytime, for her.

We meander along a pebbled path lined with foxgloves and ferns, the air thick with the scent of jasmine. Willow's ahead, her hair catching flecks of sunlight that sneak through the leafy canopy above. She's pointing out a cluster of orchids, explaining their delicate symbiosis with specific insects.

"Isn't it incredible how they've evolved just to ensure those bugs pollinate them?" she says, her voice laced with enthusiasm.

"Yeah, nature's got some pretty slick tricks up its sleeve," I reply.

"Tricks?" She laughs, looking back at me, her eyes crinkling in amusement. "I'd call them evolutionary masterpieces."

"Right, masterpieces," I correct myself, earning another smile from her.

She leads me to a bed of wildflowers, and we crouch down together to watch a honeybee dance from bloom to bloom. It's quiet except for the distant hum of the nearby town. I should be there, in the middle of that chaos, but instead, I'm here with Willow, feeling an odd sense of peace.

"Hey, you're not checking your phone," she observes, sounding surprised.

I glance at my pocket where my phone is buzzing like a trapped wasp. "Nope, no need."

"Wow, Mr. Corporate Tycoon can survive without constant updates? Color me shocked."

"Turns out I can," I say. My mind momentarily whirs with the possible fallout from missing today's host of meetings. But then I see her, so vibrant and alive among the greenery, and I realize I don't care about the consequences.

"Come on," she says, standing and brushing dirt from her skirt. "There's a part of this garden that looks like something out of a fairytale."

"Lead the way," I tell her, switching off my phone without even a glance. The investors can wait. Whatever magic Willow wants to show me, I'm all in.

We're resting on a wooden bench, tucked away in a secluded corner of the garden. A canopy of intertwined branches above us filters the sunlight into gentle patterns on the ground. I take a deep breath, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders.

"So, what did you think of the guys yesterday?" I ask her.

"I met so many people, you'll have to be more specific," she says.

"Seb, Roman, Victor. They're not my brothers by blood, but they may as well be," I say. "We all grew up in the foster system." I lean back, tracing the grain of the wood with my finger. "We were all pretty tight."

"Sounds like you had your own little family," she says softly, her gaze lingering on a butterfly that flutters by.

"Sort of," I agree with a chuckle. "A band of misfits more like, but they're good people."

"Tell me about them," she prompts, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I mean, I know I met them, but sometimes people don't always show their true colors right away."

I nod. "I agree. Although, these guys are pretty 'what you see is what you get.' Roman's the wildcard, always jumping into things without thinking. You'd never be bored with him around." I shake my head at the memories. "Seb is always tinkering around with stuff, and his personality is a bit like that, too. And Victor, well, he's the steady one. Keeps us all grounded."

"Sounds like you depend on each other a lot."

"More than I realized," I admit. The admission feels strange, revealing parts of myself I usually keep locked away.

Willow nods, understanding flashing in her eyes. She opens her mouth as if to share something of her own, then hesitates. Instead, she picks at the hem of her skirt, looking away.

"Your family... do you want to talk about them?" I venture cautiously, not wanting to pry but curious about the woman who has managed to dismantle my carefully constructed barriers.

She gives me a half-smile, shaking her head. "Not much to say, really. We don't see eye to eye on...well, almost everything."

"Fair enough." I offer her a smile, trying to convey that it's okay, that she doesn't have to share anything she isn't comfortable with.

"Thank you," she whispers, and there's a warmth in her eyes I haven't seen before.

As we move on from the bench, walking side by side through a pathway lined with flowering shrubs, something shifts inside me. I stumble over an exposed root and rather than burst out in anger, I crack a joke. "Guess the root of my problems just tripped me up."

Her laughter rings clear, and I find myself laughing too—genuine, unforced laughter. It's been a while since I've felt this light, this free.

"Watch out," I tease, regaining my balance. "You're turning me into a nature lover."

"Is that such a bad thing?" she retorts, her smile infectious.

"Guess not," I concede, and it hits me just how much I mean it.

The realization that I'm actually enjoying this—the garden, the company, the simple pleasure of being with someone who sees the world so differently—takes me by surprise. There's a pull towards her that goes beyond our agreement, beyond any pretense of fake dating. And as we pause to admire a cluster of vibrant flowers, I recognize the sensation blooming in my chest for what it is.

"Damn," I mutter under my breath.

"What is it?" Willow looks at me, concerned.

"Nothing," I say quickly, shaking my head. But it's not nothing; it's the dawning recognition that I'm falling for her.

We continue our walk, and I can't help but steal glances at her, at the way the sunlight catches in her hair, at her earnest expression when she talks about protecting the environment. This was supposed to be a charade, a means to an end, but it's becoming something else entirely—something real and terrifyingly exhilarating.

The sun dips low, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. There's a small pond and we sit down in the grass near the water's edge. I can't help but watch Willow, her eyes reflecting the pond's stillness, like she's part of this place.

"Larry," she says, breaking the silence, "today was... it was special." Her voice carries the warmth of the fading light.

I lean back, feeling the wooden slats press against my spine. "I'm glad you think so. It wasn't your typical rowdy protest or corporate meeting, but it had its moments."

She chuckles, and it's like music blending with the evening chorus of crickets. "Definitely better than a boardroom."

"Hey now, don't knock the thrill of a good quarterly report." I wink, but my attempt at humor fades into something softer. "But yeah, today was different. Better."

Her smile spreads slowly, and it's genuine, reaching all the way to those bright green eyes. "Thank you for skipping out on whatever big business thing you had. I know that's not easy for you."

"Turns out, it was easier than I thought." I glance at my phone, screen dark with missed calls and ignored alerts. "I didn't even miss it."

"Really?" She turns to me.

"Really." I pocket my phone, determined to keep my world small, contained to just this grass, this pond, this moment with Willow. "They'll survive without me for one day."

"Sounds like someone's priorities are changing." She leans in, her shoulder brushing mine.

"Maybe they are." My gaze locks with hers, and I realize I don't want to look anywhere else. "Maybe it's about time they did."

The pond's surface breaks as a fish leaps for a twilight snack, rippling the reflection of the sky. We sit there, side by side, until the colors fade to dusky blue and the first stars dare to twinkle.

"Ready to head back?" I ask, though a part of me wishes we could stay here forever, suspended in this perfect slice of time.

"Yes." Willow stands, offering me a hand up. "Larry," she says suddenly, stopping to face me. "Thank you for today. For all of this."

"Anytime," I reply, meaning every word. And as we walk back toward the entrance of the garden, I know that whatever happens next, I can't go back to pretending that Willow is just a means to an end. Not anymore.