Love so Hot (Misfit Millionaires #1)

Chapter 33Willow

Chapter Thirty-Three

Willow

"Finished?" I ask, taking my last bite from my plate.

"Yes," Larry says, pushing back from the table. We both look at the table full of dirty dishes and then at each other. I grab my wine glass, and he grabs his, and we stand in unspoken agreement.

We're avoiding the chore of dirty dishes, at least for now. With our wine in hand, we walk out to the living room. The last rays of the summer sun dip below the horizon, casting a beautiful golden glow over the entire valley.

"Thanks for dinner," Larry says as he sinks into the plush sofa.

"No problem," I say, taking a seat opposite him. The fading sunlight dances across Larry’s face, softening his usual sharp edges. He looks lost in thought, like he's got more on his mind than our culinary experiment, and I can't stop myself from prying. "Everything okay?"

He smiles and nods. "I was just thinking that it's nice... having company."

"Even if it's just fake-dating company?" I tease, nudging the tension away with a smirk.

"Especially then," he counters, surprising me with his earnestness.

Maybe it's the wine that's giving me courage, but I decide to risk Larry's ire. "You know, you're not the person I thought you would be."

"Oh, yeah?" Larry asks, raising an eyebrow. "How so?"

"Well, for starters, you did decide to drop my charges, plus you bought me an entirely new wardrobe—twice—and took me on a pretty amazing date."

"I sound pretty amazing," Larry chuckles.

I roll my eyes. "What I'm saying is that you're a far cry from the hot-headed corporate tycoon the media paints you as. You went beyond just buying me things. You took the time to consider what made me happy and put in the effort to make those things a reality for me.”

"Yeah, well, when you had the sort of childhood I had, you learn to hide your true self."

I furrow my brow. "What does that mean?"

"Every time I got settled somewhere, it felt like the rug was pulled out from under me," he says, his voice low and steady. "You build walls. To protect yourself. If they don't know the real you, they can't reject the real you. That's how I justified it as a kid. But it never really stops the feeling that you don't quite fit anywhere."

"Like you're always the new kid, just trying to catch up?" My question is more of an echo of his sentiment than anything else.

"Exactly." A half-smile touches his lips, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "It's like living your life on the periphery. Always looking in, never being part of the picture."

Silence settles for a moment, heavy with unspoken understanding. I take a sip of my wine, letting the warmth spread through me, wishing it could do the same for the chill that seems to have crept into the room with his memories.

"How'd you meet them?" I risk the question.

"Who?"

"The guys? Roman, Seb, Victor?"

"Oh." He looks out the window and his smile is genuine, full of fond exasperation. "Well, Seb I met at a summer camp. We were both too competitive for our own good. Teamed up for some silly game and ended up winning the whole thing. Couldn't get rid of him after that."

I chuckle, imagining Larry and Seb as kids, plotting their victory with the kind of seriousness only children can muster. "Sounds like he made quite the impression."

"Then Roman." The mood shifts again, softer this time, respectful. "We lived in the same group home for a while. He really took me under his wing when I showed up there. I was quiet at the time. He showed me around. Helped me learn the ropes of the new place."

"Really? I can't imagine you as the quiet type," I say, teasingly nudging his foot with mine.

"I know. It was a weird time." A real laugh escapes him, and it surprises a smile out of me too.

"Then there was that one winter," Larry starts, a far-off look in his hazel eyes as he stares out the window. "The foster care system decided it'd be a grand idea to take us ice skating—like a scene right out of some feel-good movie."

I pull my legs up onto the couch, wrapping my arms around them as I watch him swirl the wine in his glass. His voice is softer now, almost reflective.

"There weren't enough skates to go around, but Roman managed to get us a pair. We were all taking turns and then Roman spotted Victor. He was just sitting there alone, watching everyone from the side of the pond."

"Did he not know how to skate?" I ask, sipping my wine.

He shakes his head. "No, he knew. But it wasn't just that. You could tell... he needed someone. Well, Roman could tell. He has that way about him. So, despite it all—the cold, the unfamiliarity—he reached out. And the four of us have been inseparable ever since."

"Sounds like you became his heroes that day."

"More like his personal clowns," Larry counters with a grin. "But yeah, they basically became family after that. Roman was the one to say that every misfit needs a crew."

"Sounds like something he'd say." I laugh.

"Definitely his philosophy." Larry raises his glass in a toast, and I join him, clinking my glass against his gently.

"Cheers to misfits finding their crews," he says and we both drink.

I lean back into the plush cushions of the couch, trying to ease the knot of tension that's been growing in my stomach. Larry has been sharing his past, each word a brick laid bare, constructing the foundation of who he is. He's open, raw even, and it makes me feel exposed by comparison.

"Your turn," he says with a gentle nudge, his hazel eyes searching mine for signs of reluctance.

"Me?" I manage, stalling.

"Your passion for the environment," he clarifies, setting his wine glass on the low table with a soft clink. "What sparked it?"

"Oh." I exhale the breath I've been holding, grateful he didn't pry into the family saga I'm not ready to unpack. "Well, it's a bit of a long story."

"I've got time," he says, and there's something so damn earnest in his gaze that I start talking.

"Growing up, I spent every summer at my grandpa's cabin here in Greenwood Hollow." I watch his expression, wondering if he'll judge, but he just nods for me to go on. "I was this wild child, always knee-deep in creeks, chasing butterflies. One summer, I stumbled upon a developer's plan to bulldoze part of the forest for condos. It gutted me."

"Condos in Greenwood Hollow? Pipelines, sure, but condos? Nah." He's giving me a look that says "please laugh," and it tickles a smile onto my lips.

"Exactly! So, at ten years old, I'm writing petitions, rallying the town. And we saved it." Pride swells in my chest at the memory. "That was it for me. The seed was planted."

"From petitions to protests, huh?" He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, intrigued.

"Yep. College for environmental science, then straight to Earth Defenders." There's a fierce kind of joy recounting the campaigns, the victories... and the losses. "We're a scrappy bunch, fighting the good fight."

"Scrappy suits you," he teases, and I can't help but laugh.

"Guess it does. But enough about me. You surprised me today, at the gardens. Didn't peg you as the type to care about green spaces."

"Hey, I might be all business, but I appreciate a good leaf or two," he jokes, and I roll my eyes, playfully, at him.

"Sure you do, Larry," I say. "But honestly, thank you for today. It meant a lot."

"Anytime, Wildflower," he replies, the nickname sending a new warmth through me that has nothing to do with the wine.

"Wildflower, huh? What happened to Weeping Willow? It's only fair, since I still call you Larry." I tease back, feeling lighter than I have all evening.

"I guess I don't mind when you call me Larry," he says.

My eyes widen in shock. "Well, that's a plot twist."

"Life's all about unexpected plot twists," Larry says with a grin, his eyes dancing in the low light. I can't help but chuckle, shaking my head at his attempt to keep things light.

"There you go again, surprising me." It's nice, this easy banter, like we're not just two people stuck in a complicated ruse but something more... genuine.

"Guess you'll have to stick around to see what other secrets I've got hidden up my sleeve," he quips, and there's a challenge in his smile that sends a spark through me. We hold each other's gaze for a beat too long, and I feel my cheeks starting to burn.

"Is it hot in here or is it just me?" I suddenly blurt out, fanning myself with a hand. The warmth isn't just from the summer heat; it's radiating off Larry too, setting the air on fire.

"Must be all that talk about saving the planet. Got your blood boiling, huh?" He's still smiling, but his voice has dropped an octave, and it sends shivers down my spine.

"Could be," I say, standing up abruptly. "How about we cool off with a swim?" I throw him a look over my shoulder, one that's more invitation than question.

"Sounds refreshing." He rises to his feet, the playful glint in his eyes now mixed with something else—anticipation, maybe, or excitement

"Last one in cooks breakfast tomorrow," I challenge, already heading toward the pool with a newfound spring in my step.

"Deal. But don't think I'll go easy on you, Wildflower," he calls after me, that nickname making my heart skip.