Final Offer (Dreamland Billionaires #3) by Lauren Asher

“Why not?”

I throw my hands in the air. “Because it’s a terrible idea!”

“Afraid you can’t control yourself around me?” His signature smile comes back at full force, turning my whole world upside down.

My scoff lacks its usual bravado. “I can control myself.”

“Is that so?” The pad of his thumb follows the curve of my bottom lip, sending a zip of energy down my spine. My head pathetically tilts closer to him.

Emphasis on pathetic.

I shove him away, although the push is weak at best. My fingers itch to dig themselves into his shirt and pull him back, solely so I can feel the rush his touch provides.

That right there is why you can’t live with him.

I slip out of his cage and charge away, dragging the suitcases behind me to the soundtrack of Cal’s laugh.

I spend the rest of the day packing up the necessities for Cami and myself, which is an exhausting endeavor in itself. I’m not looking forward to packing everything else away before the asbestos abatement team comes.

I don’t have a lot of keepsakes. The most important thing I own happens to be a shoebox crammed full of memories. I climb the ladder in my closet and search for the box. It’s kept out of reach, hidden behind an old Santa gift I forgot to put under the tree a couple of years ago.

I brush a shaky hand across the dusty shoebox top before removing it. My hand trembles as I sift through the countless photos, tickets, a few of Cal’s hospital bands from all the times he got injured because of me, Cami’s favorite pacifier, and other memorabilia from my entire life. It’s bittersweet how twenty-nine years of memories can fit in a single shoebox. There was once a time I dreamed of more for myself than this town. I love Lake Wisteria—I really do—but it was never meant to be the adventure.

It was supposed to be the final destination.

Now you will finally have a chance to make your dreams come true.

With the money I’m bound to get from the selling the house, there isn’t anything stopping me anymore from traveling around the world and opening my own bakery here.

Well, nothing except for myself. Self-doubt always rears its ugly head at the worst times, making me wonder if I really have what it takes to be successful.

You’ll never know if you don’t try.

“Mommy!” Cami runs into the closet.

My grip on the shoebox slips and falls against the floor, bottom side up.

“Oh, no! I’m sorry!” Cami gets on her knees and lifts the box, proceeding to dump all the contents.

“I got it. Don’t worry about it.” I climb down the ladder.

She holds up a photo with a big smile. “Look! It’s you and Cow-l holding hands!”

Of all the photos she found, it had to be the one of him and me at the Strawberry Festival six summers ago.

“Mm-hm.” I pluck the photo from her hands and drop it into the box.

Her head tilts. “Do you like him, Mommy?”

“We were friends.”

“Like kissing friends or friends friends?”

Por el amor de Dios. “Just friends.”

A rare frown crosses her face.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she replies with a tone that says the opposite.

You need to be more careful with him when you’re around her.

Cami is the last person who should be getting her hopes up about us. Whatever happened in the past between Cal and me is just that.

The past.





“I was wondering how long it would take you to come to the right decision.” Cal holds open the door with a grin.

My eyes turn into slits. “I have one condition.”

“Name it.”

“No drinking in front of Cami.”

His smile slips. “Of course not.”

I release a breath. “Thank you.”

“Hi!” Cami pops out from behind me.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He kneels to Cami’s eye level. His eyes widen when she throws her arms around his neck and squeezes until his skin turns red.

Damn my heart straight to hell for betraying me with the way it throbs at their embrace.

He stands to his full height. “What happened to staying with Delilah and Wyatt?”

“Her grandmother is visiting from out of town for the month,” I grumble.

“And Violet?”

“She lives in a small apartment with two roommates.”

“There’s nothing I love more than being last choice.” He reaches for my luggage and rolls it inside. I follow behind him, taking in the large stacks of books scattered around the living room.

“Since when are you into reading?”

A flush spreads up his neck as he tucks his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans. “I like to keep my mind busy.”

“You read all those in the last few weeks?” There must be at least fifty books spread around the space.

He nods.

“Wow.”

His gaze flicks over me. “Do you need any help grabbing the rest of the stuff?”

“Be careful what you volunteer for.”

“It’s not like I have anything else to do.”

Cal spends the next hour helping me carry over boxes and bags full of stuff. By the time we’re done, the guesthouse’s entire living room floor is covered with toys. The kitchen cabinets spill with groceries and cooking tools, and the bedrooms are crammed with our personal items that we didn’t want to risk leaving behind, including my vibrator that I hid in my nightstand. No way was I leaving that around for some random guy to find.