1Love Redesigned (Lakefront Billionaires, #1)(41)

“Josefina told me you could handle it. She reassured me that your booth will be next to the Mu?oz one this year so that you can have someone to talk to.”

“How thoughtful of her,” I reply with a brittle tone.

“I told her the same thing before asking her to switch it.”

“And?”

“She says it would be dumb to separate their bu?uelos booth from our champurrado one.”

I sigh. “It’s fine.”

“Maybe if you talked to her about how you’re not interested in Dahlia like that, she would let up on her attempts at matchmaking.”

“Knowing her, she will only see it as a challenge.”

“I blame her obsession with those telenovelas.” He takes a sip of his drink.

“I’m hoping Ma will realize Dahlia and I aren’t meant to be once she finally leaves town for good.”

His head tilts. “And when is that?”

“I have no clue.”

“You really think she’s done with Oliver?”

“I’d say yes based on how she sold me her wedding ring before I encased it in a concrete tomb.”

His mouth falls open.

Shit. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“You, the billionaire who considers eating out at a steakhouse a wasteful luxury, bought Dahlia’s engagement ring just so you could bury it in concrete?”

“One, I think steakhouses are overrated when I can cook the same thing at my house for half the price; and two, it was worth it.”

Rafa drops his head into his hands. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Nothing is preferable.”

“How much did you pay for it?”

I don’t answer him.

“Julian.”

“A hundred.”

“Thousand?”

I rub the back of my neck. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to bury it in concrete.”

“I’m struggling to believe you’re the same guy who spent five years hyping himself up into buying a McLaren for double the cost of what you paid Dahlia for a cheap thrill.”

When he puts it that way, it sounds bad. I don’t act irrationally, especially when money is involved.

“Well, I always hated that ring.” The excuse sounds weak to my own ears.

Rafa’s deep sigh makes my stomach churn.

“What?”

“You say you’re over her, but your actions say the complete opposite.”

“Because I bought her ring?”

“Because of why you bought her ring.”

My frown stretches. “I was doing her a favor.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


Dahlia


“I’m so happy you’ll be here for the Harvest Festival this year,” Josefina says. “It’s changed a lot since you were last here.” Julian’s mom has been the town’s event coordinator for two decades, and while I know she doesn’t have favorites, the Harvest Festival remains one of her top contenders.

“How so?” I ask.

“Everything is different and in the best way possible—the food, the activities, the rides. And this year, we booked the same company that does the firework shows for Dreamland!”

I blink a couple of times. “Isn’t that…expensive?”

Josefina laughs. “Claro que si, but Julian is our main sponsor.”

Claro que si: Of course.



“By main, she means only,” Lily teases.

My eyes bulge. Everyone knows Julian is disgustingly rich, but sponsoring every event seems excessive.

“He only donates that much because of how happy it makes you to plan everything without having a tight budget,” my mom says.

“I’m not going to complain.” Josefina shrugs.

We continue cooking and talking until the doorbell chiming interrupts Josefina’s story about the latest event-planning mishap with the corn maze.

“That must be Julian or Rafa.” She swipes her flour-covered hands across her apron.

“Dahlia, can you get it?” Mom looks up from her Michiganshaped cutting board and points at the door with the tip of her knife.

“Sure. Would hate for Lily to get off her butt and do something useful today.” I hop off the bar stool.

My sister sticks her tongue out at me before returning to whomever she can’t stop texting.

I readjust my sling before opening the door. Julian stands on the other side with a roll of papers tucked underneath his arm and his phone placed against his ear.

“What do you mean—” Julian’s voice cuts out as his eyes blaze a trail down my body. He blinks twice, which is Julian code for fuck.

Julian appreciating my efforts to look good feels like a victory I didn’t know I needed after spending years squeezing myself into a mold for someone else.

I tuck my hair behind my ear before fidgeting with my dangling acrylic earring.

“Yes, I’m still here.” His deep baritone voice has far too much power over my heart rate.

Here, Julian mouths as he passes me the papers from the attic. He could have easily passed the job off to anyone else, yet he went through the trouble of going back before today’s lunch and retrieving them himself.