Billionaire Mountain Man - Page 490

“Vivienne Andrews, how lovely to see you!”

I knew the voice at once. My neighbor, Mrs. Joan Dobbins — a sweet older lady who did little else but sit on her porch with her Maltese poodle, Fluffy, and observe the comings and goings of our neighborhood from sunrise to sunset and often beyond.

“Hi, Mrs. Dobbins,” I said with a smile. “It's nice to see you, too.”

“I love what you've done with your hair. It's still nice and long, but it looks so stylish now! And you've always had the loveliest blonde hair.”

“Thank you,” I said with an appreciative smile. “I just had it layered and textured a little. I've always liked this length, just down around my shoulder blades.”

“It really does suit you. I couldn't stand having long hair myself, but my old Frank, bless his heart, he loved my long hair when I was young, so I kept it long for him. When he passed 22 years ago, though, the first thing I did was cut it, and it's been short ever since!”

I laughed politely – it wasn't the first time I'd heard that story.

“I don't think I'll cut mine anytime soon,” I said, hoping that the line would move a little faster. Mrs. Dobbins was nice enough, but she could talk until she was blue in the face and you were too.

“You shouldn't cut it, dear; you look absolutely stunning. Why, I don't know why some man hasn't come and swept you off your feet yet. They must be beating down your door.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” I mumbled, not wanting to get on the topic with her. Like her story, it wasn’t the first time. “I'm just so busy with the daycare, and I've got those repairs to take care of around the house—”

She cut me off. “And that's why you need a good man by your side, Vivienne!”

I chuckled, somewhat uncomfortably. “I guess so,” I mumbled. Why wasn't this line moving?

“Speaking of men, there's a new fellow that moved in across the road from us this past weekend while you were out of town.”

That piqued my interest. The house across the street had been empty for months.

“Really? The Sanchez place?”

“That's right – someone's finally bought it. And I tell you what, between you and me, he's quite a looker! You should go say hello to him. Maybe bake him a pie. You know, offer a good neighborly welcome,” she said with a wink and a smile.

I laughed. “I thought you said you wanted me to welcome him to the neighborhood. You’ve obviously never eaten any pie I’ve tried to bake,” I smiled at her.

“Well, how about I bake the pie for you, and then you go across the street and give it to him?”

I laughed. “We'll see about that. So, I know you have the scoop. What’s his story?”

“He's the new principal of that high school three blocks away, what's it called again?” she asked.

“JFK High.”

“Ah, yes.”

I felt somewhat disappointed; if he was the principal, that meant he'd be a good bit older than me. Most likely in his 40s or 50s. Not that I was interested or anything, but it might be nice to have someone close to my own age move in near me. I'd been in Irvine for two years now, but still only had a handful of friends, none of whom lived in my neighborhood.

“Well, I actually thought he was just a teacher until I spoke to him. He's so young for a principal,” Mrs. Dobbins said, rummaging around in her purse for something.

My interest was officially piqued again.

“Really? And just how old is he?” I asked, trying not to sound too interested. If I seemed too interested, Mrs. Dobbins would make it her mission to bake me a pie a week until she was satisfied we were either going to get married, or one of us was batting for the other team.

“He's only 32. Would you believe it, just 32 years old and already the principal of a high school?”

“That is surprising,” I remarked. “I guess he knows his stuff.”

“I guess he does. And like I said, he's a right handsome fella, too. And he seems like such a nice, polite young man. I'm more than happy to bake a nice blueberry pie if you'd like to take it over to him. And I promise that your secret will be safe with me. He'll never find out that it wasn't you who baked the pie!”

I laughed. “Maybe I'll take you up on that offer, Mrs. Dobbins, but not right away.”

Tags: Claire Adams Billionaire Romance
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