Billionaire Barista: Love Demands a Holiday Read online

  Billionaire Barista

  Love Demands a Holiday

  McKenna Rogue

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Also by McKenna Rogue

  1

  CHRIS

  Working at my family’s summer camp was meant to build character. To give me life experience beyond the luxury of being raised a Davenport. At eighteen, my father insisted on it.

  But away from the city, away from the family estate, I found more than that.

  “Okay, campers, last one into the lake is a rotten egg!” Cassia Carter’s voice caught my attention moments before a group of giggling kids ran past, heading for the dock.

  I wasn’t watching them, though. My eyes homed in on Cassia.

  Her suit hugged her curves tightly—her round ass, her thick thighs, and the cleavage that the suit was a size or two too small to fully contain.

  God, she looked good.

  She ran past, completely oblivious to me watching her, and paused only a second before she jumped into the lake with the campers.

  I was supposed to be on lifeguard duty.

  But all I could think about was her body.

  “God, look at Fatty Cassie, running around in that suit like she has anything to show off.” Nick Mathison’s disgusted tone drew my attention away from the lake. “Now, if she was Katy… I could watch those melons float around the lake all afternoon.”

  I rolled my eyes, barely containing a sneer. “Is there something you need, Nick?”

  “Nope. Just wanted to see who was on lake duty today. Clearly no one worth putting in my spank bank.” He walked off, shaking his head and muttering under his breath about hiring whales.

  But as I caught sight of Cassia’s black, wild curls again, I couldn’t help but think that she was much more of a mermaid. A sexy mermaid that I couldn’t get out of my head.

  * * *

  No one should’ve been out of their bunks at almost midnight.

  At least, that was what I thought when I snuck out and headed for what should’ve been a pitch-black arts and crafts cabin.

  I pushed the door open to see Cassia’s wild curls mostly contained in a bun on top of her head, and a sketch pad on her knees as she bent over the pages, scribbling furiously.

  “No one’s supposed to be out of their bunks. Not even the counselors.”

  She jumped and dropped her sketch pad, spinning around as she crossed her arms over her full breasts. “What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.” I tucked my own notebook behind me and leaned against the cabin wall. “Or do you just not sleep?”

  “Inspiration hit. I didn’t think anyone would notice that I was out of bed.” She blushed and picked up her pad, closing it before I could see what she was working on. “That doesn’t explain what you’re doing here, though.”

  I could’ve lied. It would’ve been easy enough to tell her that Grandpa wanted me to do a perimeter check, and I saw the light on. Instead, I brought out my notebook and dropped it on the table. “Mind if I join you?”

  “You draw?” Her jaw went slack as she stared at my book.

  “If you tell anyone, I’ll kill you.” I picked up one of the colored pencils from the table and opened to a fresh page. “What are you drawing?”

  We talked about art for a while as she sat across from me, sketching away. Her book was full of feminine shapes that looked like her body type, dressed in the sort of fashion my sister Sofia would’ve understood, but was a little lost on me. All I needed was shorts or jeans and a variety of t-shirts.

  But I could understand the passion behind it, and she seemed to have an eye for colors and shapes.

  Every night, we met up in the arts and crafts room. Most of the time, we sketched independently, hardly talking, with only the sounds of pencils scratching across paper to keep us company.

  With Cassia, it was comfortable, easy. I didn’t feel like I had to try to impress her, but every night, I found myself nervously showing off a comic panel or a sketch I’d done, looking for her approval.

  It was two weeks before the end of the summer before I got up the nerve to make a move.

  I caught her coming out of the girls’ counselors’ cabin.

  “Christopher? What are you doing here?” She looked around, as if she expected there to be a group of other counselors lurking in the trees.

  “I wanted to see you, Cinnamon.”

  It was too dark for me to really see her, but I could tell by the way she looked down at her feet and how she bit her lower lip that she was probably blushing. I only ever called her that when we were alone, sketching at night.

  “I was going to draw. You were going to see me.” She held up her sketch pad, as if it explained everything.

  I plucked it from her hands and grinned. “I have something better in mind.” I grabbed her hand and led her through camp to the dock. “Let’s have a midnight swim.”

  “I’m not dressed for a swim. And it’s probably going to be freezing.” She shook her head in disbelief.

  “I’ll keep you warm.” I set down the sketch pad and pulled her into my arms.

  She tensed at first, but as I pressed a soft kiss to her lips, Cassia melted. Her hands slid over my shoulders. Her body pressed against mine. All those soft curves I couldn’t get out of my head molded against me.

  I pulled away slightly, but not enough to let her out of my arms. “What do you say, Cin? Want to get all wet with me?”

  Cassia bit her lower lip again. “I still don’t have a suit.”

  “Neither do I.” I waggled my eyebrows at her as I tugged off the Coyotes baseball shirt I had on. “I brought towels. Come on.” Not waiting for her response, I dropped my shorts and boxers down onto the dock.

  I heard Cassia gasp, but before she could say anything, I kicked off my flip flops and ran for the water.

  A moment later, I heard Cassia splash in behind me.

  She kept her distance at first, swimming around just out of reach.

  But it didn’t take long for us to end up close together, just like we seemed to every time we were in this lake.

  It started out slow. A brush here. A touch there. Until we were pressed together, my hands on her wide, round ass, her breasts pressed against my chest.

  She kissed me this time, and despite the cold water, my entire body heated up.

  By the time we made our way back to the dock, I was hard as a rock.

  I handed her a towel, and then rolled out a sleeping bag on the wooden planks extending out over the water, pulling her down with me so that I could keep kissing her. So that I could keep touching her.

  Cassia let out a soft moan as I groped one of her tits, squeezing the globe in my hand as my thumb slid over her nipple.

  “Christopher, I’ve never…” Her voice was so quiet, I almost thought I’d imagined it.

  As I pulled back though, looking down at her, I didn’t see fear in her eyes. Only lust.

  I kissed her again, my tongue slicking across hers as I slipped my hand between her thighs. She was already wet, and as I touched her for the first time, Cin arched into my hand, pressing closer as I toyed with her.

  I only pulled away long enough to grab the condom I kept in
my wallet, and then I spread her legs wide. I wanted to go slow, to ease her into it; I’d been in enough locker rooms to know that I was bigger than most eighteen-year-olds, and I didn’t want to hurt her.

  But as Cassia rocked her hips up, taking me deeper, I couldn’t help myself. I thrust in deep, bottoming out inside her tight, wet pussy.

  She groaned, and I paused, looking down at her again. “You okay, Cin?”

  She nodded. “I just never imagined it would feel like this.” Her face was scrunched up, and I kissed her again, trying to distract her from any pain of her first time.

  I only wanted to make her feel good.

  As she started to rock her hips into mine again, I pulled out, taking a rough but slow pace, letting her get used to me, to my cock filling her.

  When she came, I came with her, holding her in my arms as I kissed her, stroked her hair, told her how amazing she was.

  I meant every word.

  2

  Cassia

  Seven years later…

  The chirp of my alarm brought my head up from my sketch pad.

  Grabbing my phone, I stared at it through my bleary eyes, looking for the snooze button. I could spare nine minutes.

  Only, it wasn’t my alarm.

  It was a text message.

  From my boss.

  Brayden: You’re late. What’s going on?

  My eyes flickered to the time right above the text message. I was supposed to be at work over an hour ago.

  Cassia: I overslept. I’ll be there in twenty.

  I dropped my phone, rolled off my futon, and wound around the boxes of fabric, my sewing machine, piles of dirty clothes, and fashion magazines. Rummaging through my closet, I pulled out clothes and what I hoped was a clean pair of underwear.

  There was no time for a shower. Instead, I quickly freshened up, pulled my mop of black curly hair into a messy bun, and shoved my feet into my sneakers.

  My phone chirped again. I grabbed it and my backpack and rushed out the door.

  I couldn’t believe I overslept. Even with two jobs and a small internet clothing business, this was the first time I’d done it since high school. I was diligent about being on time and doing my work. But after two months of late nights and using every minute of my free time trying to complete clothing orders, I was burning out.

  Stopping at The Daily Grind was a necessity. If I didn’t get coffee, people around me would be in danger. And it would most likely lead to me getting fired or going to jail. I could spare a few minutes for the much-needed caffeine injection.

  As I drove down the main drag of Jubilee Falls, I noted all the fall decorations had gone up overnight. September brought autumn weather and soon it would be the week of the fall festival. It was my favorite time of year.

  The Daily Grind appeared on the horizon of my dashboard. My head was throbbing from the lack of sleep. I slowed as I approached, looking for a parking spot. Brayden was going to kill me as it was.

  It would seem luck was on my side for once, as I slipped into a spot right in front and hurried into the café. Thank the coffee gods, there wasn’t a line.

  I couldn’t wait to get my hands on a hot cup of coffee.

  The barista, Kelly, one of my friends from high school greeted me. “Hey, Cassie.”

  “Hey, Kelly. Can you make me a cinnamon latte on the fly? I overslept. And if I get fired, I won’t be able to pay for my caffeine addiction, and I’ll be a panhandler begging for latte leftovers and used coffee beans. It won’t be pretty.”

  Kelly pulled a paper cup off the stack of upside cups. “Would you prefer a pumpkin spiced latte?”

  I gasped. “Seriously?” Yep, I was a walking cliché. Fashionista, pumpkin spiced latte drinker, and I even owned a pair of Uggs. “You are a beautiful human being sent down from the coffee gods themselves. I promise, when I win any award, I’ll be thanking you first.” I paid her and dropped a tip in the jar.

  The wonderful sounds of the hissing steam filled the café. She set the finished latte up on the counter. “Good luck!”

  “Thanks, Kelly. I’ll see you tomorrow!” I charged for the door, ready to make it a better day.

  What I hadn’t counted on was someone right around the corner, eager to make it worse. The wall of a man slammed into me so hard it created a hot, pumpkin spiced latte fountain and a shift in my center of gravity.

  My arms failed. I staggered trying to regain my balance, but it didn’t matter. I landed right on my butt. Hard. What remained of the paper coffee cup was crushed in my hand while my other one stung from the bite of cement.

  The cuss words that came out of his mouth made the ones coming out of my mouth blush.

  Before I could really register the heat of the coffee, the cup got lifted out of my hand and deposited onto the café table next to me.

  Of course, today would be the day I was wearing a white shirt. Well, it was now orange and white tie-dyed.

  The big man’s hand extended in front of my face. “You’re not burned, are you?” His voice was deep and a little growly. And a lot sexy.

  I took his hand and he hoisted me to my feet. Regaining my balance, I took inventory of my body to make sure I hadn’t hurt something more than my dignity.

  And then he was dabbing me with napkins. I wasn’t even sure where he managed to get them. His fingers grazed my skin as he went along the edge of my cleavage. I gaped at the pumpkin spiced explosion seeping into my shirt and most likely my bra. “No, I don’t think so,” I finally answered.

  I looked up and found myself staring into a pair of hazel green eyes. I blinked a couple of times and pulled my focus outward. His sandy blond hair had droplets of latte, along with his white button up.

  At least I wasn’t the only one sporting a retro look now.

  The suit jacket slung over his arm was soaked. But it was the broad, muscular chest with a little hair peeking out of his opened collar and the rolled-up sleeves revealing his corded, toned forearms that kept pulling my focus. This guy was seriously hot.

  “I’m sorry. I should’ve been watching where I was going.” His voice was deep and reverberated with familiarity.

  I shivered. “Me too. I’m really sorry you’re wearing half my drink. Orange is not a forgiving color.” When I met his eyes again, focusing on the man in front of me, recognition dawned on me.

  I knew him. In fact, I knew him intimately. Christopher Davenport: billionaire, founding family heir…and the guy who took my virginity.

  I swallowed around the log suddenly lodged in my throat. I opened my mouth wanting to say something or maybe I was just ready for the earth to tear open beneath my feet and suck me into the pit of devastation.

  Chris Davenport, who took my virginity and then the very next morning called me “Fatty Cassie”. I hated him. He ruined my last good summer. The last fun time before everything in my life went to hell. I opened my mouth to tell him what a piece of poop on toast he was, but nothing came out. Not a peep.

  Heels clicking against the sidewalk drew my attention away from him. A curvy blonde bombshell approached, her mouth downturned in a frown. “Chris! What the hell?”

  I did a double take. “Oh my god.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. Sofia Davenport, Grammy winning country artist and one of my personal heroes. She’d inspired half my clothing line. And she was Christopher’s sister. I’d never actually met her, but she was definitely my favorite of the Davenport clan.

  Sofia grinned at me. “I’m sorry my brother assaulted you. He’ll be happy to buy you another drink.”

  I glanced back over at him to find him staring at me. His expression was stoic and unreadable. I had no idea if he recognized me or if he was just staring at the crazy woman who’d assaulted him with delicious coffee.

  It would be wrong to lick it off him, right?

  I looked away, struck with embarrassment. I’m sure I looked a hot mess, even more than I had been before, with my makeup-less, tired face. I cleared my throat. “
I appreciate the offer, but I have to go impress my boss with my trendy outfit. Hashtag tastes like fall.”

  Chris thrust a business card at me. “I’ll get your dry-cleaning bill.”

  I took the card, knowing I would never use it. “It’s cute you think I dry clean.” I met his eyes again and immediately regretted it. There was the familiar, panty-melting smirk I’d come to loath when he appeared in my dreams.

  “At least let me buy you another drink,” he said.

  Shaking my head, I slipped between him and his sister. “I’m already late. But thank you. Make sure to look both ways so you don’t assault anymore people with their happiness in a cup.” And then, before I could stop myself, I added, “I love your music, Miss Davenport.”

  She grinned. “If we meet again, I’ll make sure you get a signed CD.”

  Here was hoping the next encounter would be better. And minus her stupid brother.

  I hopped in my car and headed to work. It was going to be a long day. Sleep deprived. Caffeine deprived. And now I had Mr. Tall-Blond-and-Hot in my head. The ass-face I never wanted to lay eyes on ever again.

  The Davenports were like Jubilee Falls royalty. They were one of the founding families and they contributed to Jubilee all the time. Their grandfather was a staple in the community; he gave more time and money than anyone else.

  And, of course, he ran the summer camp where I’d ended up meeting Christopher.

  I never wanted to think about that fucking summer. Being with Chris Davenport had been my greatest mistake.

  I arrived at These Paws were Meant for Walking and parked my car, trying to get my head back in the game.

  I hurried into the building and dropped off my backpack. Brayden appeared in the locker room a minute later.