Billionaires Don't Like Nice Girls (A BWWM Romance)
Read Billionaires Don't Like Nice Girls (A BWWM Romance) Online
Authors: Mia Caldwell
Tags: #Romantic Comedy, #bwwm romance
Billionaires Don’t Like Nice Girls
Mia Caldwell
Sign up today to get all the latest BWWM news and offers!
Get notified of new releases and special offers by signing up to
Mia’s mailing list
Table of Contents
“From what we get, we can make a living;
what we give, however, makes a life.”
— Arthur Ashe
THE OPERATION HAD PROCEEDED AS expected until Phae heard the distinctive crunch of feet stepping on gravel. She adjusted her head gear as she peered around the yard.
No night in the history of humankind could have been darker than this one. No moon graced the clear sky and the streetlights had been taken out by a robust burst of heat lightning.
Everything would have been perfect except her night vision monocle had gone blinky when she needed it most. Typical.
Phae impatiently tapped on the plastic casing, wishing for the hundredth time that she could afford something better.
The night scene flickered off and on in sickly shades of green. After one more tap on the side of the monocle, the yard finally came into steady, albeit blurry, view.
Phae scanned her surroundings but saw nothing unusual. Cautiously, she stepped to her left for a better view of the gravel driveway beside the house—nothing but Miss Eugenia’s ancient Dodge.
Phae didn’t doubt what she’d heard. In her experience, once she started doubting her senses she might as well pack it in and go home.
Trust your instincts, she told herself. The sound of shoes on gravel is unmistakable. No dog, cat or other furry animal could make that noise.
She waited it out. And then she finally saw him.
The man appeared silently from around the other side of the house. She couldn’t discern any of his features, but she could tell that he was big … scary big. When he looked directly at her, her heart began a fierce pounding even though he couldn’t possibly see her.
Had she been discovered? Had she been heard going about her work? Impossible. Miss Eugenia lived alone, and judging from the way the man moved quietly and stealthily, Phae determined he must be an intruder.
Everything she had wanted to do this evening was now ruined, cancelled because of this large, menacing man. Damn.
She wondered what he planned to do, then decided it didn’t matter. He was skulking where he shouldn’t have skulked and one way or another she would stop him, his intentions be damned.
She formulated a plan. Her only weapon was a stun gun. Unfortunately, she’d never used it before, and since she’d bought it and the blinky night-vision monocle from the same company, she wasn’t certain she should trust it.
Be creative and think fast, she thought as the man crept toward Miss Eugenia’s back door.
Silently, Phae removed the pack from her waist and pulled out a long nylon cord. She slunk to a bird feeder and secured the rope to the base about a foot off the ground.
She then made her way down the yard to an ornate birdbath and secured the other end of the rope there.
The man had nearly reached the back door.
All she needed now was the brawny thug’s attention. She smiled, picked up a dry twig and snapped it in half.
The man immediately stiffened. Come on, big guy, she thought.
As expected, the man moved in her direction. He approached her trip line.
Crouched low, muscles tensed, she waited. He was walking much too carefully to trip and fall, but she only needed him to drop his guard for a second, then he would be hers.
Distances were hard to estimate with the blurry monocle. He was close, maybe fifteen feet away. She took a deep, steadying breath. Five more feet and he would hit the rope.
Phae nearly gasped aloud when she heard a noisy thump to her right. She gritted her teeth when she turned and saw a big tomcat settle himself on the lid of Miss Eugenia’s compost bin.
The stupid cat must have jumped off the fence, she thought, watching in frustration as the man soundlessly walked toward the bin.
She watched with surprise as the cat leapt off the bin, walked up to the man and let loose a gigantic meow before rubbing against his legs. The man jerked, then chuckled and bent down to pet the animal.
Huh. A burglar and an animal lover. People’s morals often mystified Phae.
“You’ve given me a run for my money tonight, haven’t you?” the man asked in a silken, deep voice.
Phae soundlessly pounded once on the soft grass beside her as she watched the man give the cat a final pat before turning toward the house. No twig snap would stop him this time, not with that cat around.
He was beside Miss Eugenia’s t-shaped clothesline pole when Phae hopped up in desperation and dashed forward to gain the man’s attention.
“Hey, buddy,” she said in the lowest, most masculine bass she could muster.
Phae didn’t know it, but she’d just changed the course of her life.
“GOOD MORNING, SUNSHINE,” SYLVIE ANNOUNCED as she breezed into the beauty shop, the small bells over the door chiming wildly.
Shear Stylin’ was clean and inviting as usual, its bright blue awning colorful in the morning light. The shop sat on a busy, quaint street in downtown Zeke’s Bend, sandwiched between an antique (second hand) store and a small pharmacy that still had a soda fountain. For a small town, this was prime real estate.
Phae leaned over a sink and didn’t glance up from the combs she’d been scrubbing. “You know I can’t stand that happy-assed attitude this early in the morning.”
“Ah, Phae. It’s such a pleasure working with you. I mean, thanks to you, I get to be a Mary Poppins kind of person. With anyone else, well, I’d just be normal.”
Phae didn’t acknowledge the dig.
Sylvie hummed as she fluffed her short frosted-tipped hair in front of one of the large mirrors which covered most of one wall.
Phae leveled a long-suffering look at her. “Very funny. I get it. It’s that ‘Spoonful of Sugar’ song from Mary Poppins. Ha-ha. Hilarious.”
Sylvie grinned. “It helps the medicine go down, you know. Sugar, that is. It also helps you catch more flies.”
“That’s honey.”
“Whatever.” Sylvie fussed with her ample cleavage.
Phae loved her cousin, but thought she was far too girly. Sylvie was a curvy girl and took pride in every hill and valley of her voluptuous landscape. Her nails were always perfect, her hair styled, her makeup and clothes as much in fashion as she could afford.
“Your hair looks fine, as always. Quit torturing it,” Phae said, not caring that she sounded grumpy as hell.
Sylvie sighed. “You’re so picky about some things. Who cares if honey draws flies? But my hair? That’s important!”
Phae rinsed the combs and let Sylvie rattle on. She’d heard this particular lecture a thousand times.
“After all,” Sylvie continued, “our customers need to have confidence in my abilities and I can’t think of a better way to reassure them than with my own appearance. You, that’s a completely different thing. You worry about songs and flies, while your hair … well, I hate to be rude, but did you even pat that rats’ nest down before you tied it up in a ponytail?”
Phae sensed she should have been offended to have her hair referred to as a rodent’s lair. She finished rinsing the combs and dumped them into the nearby glass decanter.
“Well?” Sylvie asked, hands on her hips.
Phae glanced at herself in the mirror. Her hair did look awful. She turned her head to the side to get a better view of the lumpy bumps of black hair bunching behind the ponytail holder.
Okay, it stunk. She smiled. But she had no intention of admitting it.
“Whatever,” she said, then began to fold the clean towels she’d dumped into the hydraulic chair earlier.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Sylvie marched over to Phae and grabbed the towel out of her hand. “Sit down and let me do something with this mess.”
Phae reluctantly let Sylvie push her into the other chair, knowing from experience she’d never win this battle. “Fine. But don’t do something too fru-fru with it.”
She braced herself for Sylvie’s chatter. Once that girl touched hair, no power in the world could stay the chitchat.
“You have such gorgeous hair.” She began poking and picking and fluffing and pulling. “But it would be nicer if you’d spend a few minutes on it. And those nails—all short and unpainted. It’s like you’re not even a sister, cousin.”
