The Wish Maker (The Billionaires 0f Silicon Forest Book 2) Read online

  Henry whistled. “You’re on a first-name basis now. Excellent.”

  Ugh. Wes shook his head. Maybe teenager was too generous for Henry. “How old are you again?”

  “Younger than you,” Henry joked. In the background, ice cubes clinked against glass. “So what else happened after I left?”

  “We spoke.” Wes wasn’t sure how much he wanted to say. “She’s excited to meet potential donors, so thanks for that idea.”

  “And?” Henry’s nosiness was showing.

  Wes would not play. “Nothing.”

  “Don’t nothing me.” The three words came out sharp. “I left hours ago. You’re just getting home. Where have you been?”

  If Henry put as much effort into something more productive than being nosey, he could change the world. “I went to a coffee shop.”

  “With Paige.”

  It wasn’t a question, so Wes didn’t feel obligated to answer. His garage door opened.

  “Wes?” Henry asked.

  “I’m here.” Wes tried to sound nonchalant.

  “Have you been with Paige this entire time?” Henry’s surprised tone grated.

  Part of Wes wanted to answer, but he didn’t want to deal with the consequences of doing that. “Maybe.”

  “I could ask Wonderkid to check his GPS beta tracker prototype to see where you’ve been tonight.”

  Wes growled. “Dash’s tracker isn’t for your amusement or to appease your curiosity.”

  “Then answer my question.” No doubt a smug smile was on Henry’s face.

  “Paige and I went to a coffee shop.” That was all Wes was going to admit to.

  “Did you kiss her?” Henry asked in a singsong voice.

  Wes stared at the phone in disbelief. “Seriously?”

  “It’s Christmastime, Mr. Scrooge,” Henry countered. “Mistletoe is everywhere.”

  “No mistletoe tonight.” The words shot out. Mistletoe and Paige didn’t belong in the same sentence.

  “Saturday, then.”

  “Not. A. Date.” Wes ground out the words. “If you’re trying to play matchmaker, I’ll tell Brett.”

  Henry gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me,” Wes challenged. “Brett and Laurel said no fixing anyone up until your birthday. That’s in April, not December. Do they know you introduced Blaise and Hadley?”

  “An introduction is not matchmaking.” If Henry was trying to appear innocent, he was failing.

  Wes laughed. “To everyone else on this planet, no, but you are in a league of your own.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It wasn’t a compliment,” Wes mumbled.

  “I heard that.”

  “Good, because you need to back off where Paige is concerned,” Wes lectured. “I don’t want you to embarrass her on Saturday night.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Henry said a little too quickly.

  The car came to a stop in the garage. Wes unbuckled his seat belt. “You would and not even realize what you said.”

  A beat passed. And another. “I’ll be especially careful where she’s concerned.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Silence filled the line.

  That meant Henry was thinking or plotting. Maybe a combination of the two. “What?”

  “You’ve had a break from dating. It’s okay if you like Dr. Regis and want to go out with her,” Henry said, his voice softer than before. “The only one holding you back is Annabelle. Not every woman is like her. The right one is out there, waiting for you.”

  A lump burned in Wes’s throat. He tried to swallow around it. Tried and failed.

  “Thanks,” he croaked.

  “Think about it,” Henry urged.

  Wes made a non-committal grunt, said bye, and disconnected from the call. He went into the house. The lights were on, but it was so quiet.

  Too quiet.

  He went upstairs, each step reminding him of the last time Annabelle had been here.

  The tears.

  Hers.

  And his.

  Wes went into his bedroom. A heaviness overtook him. His stomach churned, making him relieved he ate little at the party.

  Thoughts of Annabelle swirled.

  She wasn’t as bad as everyone thought, but his friends hated her.

  The only problem?

  Annabelle hadn’t left him because of his cancer. She’d wanted to stay with him—marry him—but Wes hadn’t believed her. Hadn’t thought she could handle his cancer. Hadn’t trusted she loved him enough.

  The cancer had been the catalyst for their breakup, but there had been bigger issues than that. He’d wanted her to prove her love and show him she wasn’t after his money, but his accusations and suspicions had driven them apart.

  He’d pushed her away, giving her no reason to stay with him.

  Wes had never meant for Annabelle to become the villain in their breakup, but he’d been at such a low point, emotionally and physically, he allowed her to take the blame, never correcting others.

  Never telling them the entire story.

  Never apologizing before she moved away to start over where so many people didn’t hate her.

  Why wasn’t he dating?

  Wes didn’t deserve to be in a happy relationship. Like the companies he purchased and decimated without a second thought, he’d done the same thing to his girlfriend who’d loved him. He’d broken her heart and driven her out of the town she’d called home.

  Yes, he was working to be a better person, but he didn’t trust himself to get involved again. He didn’t want to hurt another woman the way he’d hurt Annabelle. Which might explain why he’d felt so off tonight. Something about Paige made him want to forget his resolve, but he couldn’t.

  Dr. Paige Regis deserved better. She was in a class by herself. No matter what Wes did—hours playing Santa or donating millions—he would never be worthy of someone like her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  On Wednesday, Paige finished her appointments fifty minutes behind schedule. Not bad considering two patients had to be fit in. Replying to emails was the only thing she had left to do before heading to the hospital. Unfortunately, the task was taking her longer than usual. The reason—Wes Lockhart.

  He hadn’t been in touch, but that didn’t concern her. Not much anyway. Even working fewer hours than before, he had to be busy. Besides, his foundation had contacted the hospital about paying his pledge.

  Paige was both delighted and relieved by the donation. No more fundraising. She only wished Wes wouldn’t keep popping into her mind so much. That was distracting and strange. She didn’t like it.

  Must be gratitude over the twenty-five million.

  That was the only reason that made sense.

  A knock sounded on her door before her nurse, Lydia, stuck her head into the office. “Mr. Chaffey is settled in his room.”

  A patient had taken a turn for the worst. Nothing new, unfortunately, but unexpected after Dexter Chaffey’s last scan and tests. “I’ll be heading over there shortly.”

  “No one came with him.”

  The “again” was left unspoken but implied. An absurd situation given his family lived locally, but they appeared more concerned with their own lives than that of their father, brother, uncle, and grandfather, who had lost his wife two years ago to a heart attack.

  So sad.

  “Did someone contact the volunteer office?” Paige asked.

  “Yes, and Mr. Chaffey is now on the list.”

  At least Dexter would have a visitor during his stay. “Thank you.”

  Lydia shook her head. “If he was my grandpa—”

  “But he’s not.” Paige used her firm doctor’s tone, the one she reverted to when patients didn’t want to follow her directions.

  The nurse frowned. “I know, but I’d like to have a word with his kids and grandkids.”

  “Same.” Paige tried not to let a patient’s personal situation affect her. Thi
s one, however, frustrated her. “But you can’t force people to care. Not even about their own family.”

  “They’ll regret ignoring him someday.”

  “They will, but that’s on them.” Dexter had tried so hard not to be a burden to his family after his wife’s death that they’d forgotten him in his time of need. None of his children accompanied him to appointments or visited him when he was in the hospital. He used a ride service for his chemo treatments. Thinking about how alone he must feel hurt her heart. “I just wish Dexter didn’t have to pay the price, too.”

  Lydia nodded. “Have a good evening.”

  A few minutes later, Paige sent her final reply. Now, she could go to the cancer care unit. As she reached for her coat, her cell phone buzzed with a text notification.

  Glancing at the screen, she smiled.

  Wes: The foundation will be making the donation.

  Paige: Thank you.

  Wes: About Saturday, I had an idea.

  Paige: Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

  Wes: Looks as if medical school left your humerus bone intact.

  Paige: Har-har-har.

  Paige: So what’s your idea?

  Wes: Are you off all weekend?

  Paige: Yes.

  Wes: People are staying overnight after the dinner. You should, too.

  Paige’s heart lodged in her throat. What did staying overnight entail? A hundred thoughts ran through her mind. Questions swirled.

  She reread his text. Took a calming breath. Relaxed.

  This wasn’t an invitation to a sleepover. More of a suggestion to stay in Hood Hamlet. A vague one.

  Paige typed a reply.

  Paige: Could we talk about this?

  Wes: Calling now.

  She answered on the first ring. “Hey.”

  “I should have just called, but it’s been a crazy day so I went with a text.” He sounded tired. More worn out than the bone-weariness crippling fatigue that had plagued him when he’d had cancer. “Is this a good time for you?”

  “Yes.”

  “So my idea…” He took a breath. “If you drive up early on Saturday morning, we can spend the day at the Christmas Magic celebration. Everyone is staying overnight in Hood Hamlet after the dinner. They’ll want to have brunch on Sunday, so if you stay, too, that will give you another chance to get to know people better.”

  Paige released the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

  This was a business invitation—a way to help her and the cancer center. Except, her chest tightened as if a fifty-pound weight bore down on her.

  Ridiculous.

  She shouldn’t be disappointed that this wasn’t…a personal invite. She needed to jump on the opportunity for the cancer center.

  “Sounds great.” She kept her tone light. “Where should I book a room?”

  “You can stay with me. Half are staying with me. The others will be at Henry’s. Our places are on the same street.”

  Paige assumed Wes’s house was big, but… “I don’t want to impose.”

  “You aren’t,” he said without missing a beat. “You’ll never find a room in town this close to the event.”

  He was probably right.

  So why was she hesitating?

  She wanted to get to know his friends. He was offering her a place to stay. There appeared to be no quid pro quo involved.

  “Okay,” she said finally. “I’d rather not make the long drive back late at night.”

  “I’ll text you my address up there.”

  “Thanks.” She remembered reading a short article about the Christmas Magic celebration. “Do I need to bring anything since the dinner is a benefit?”

  “A ticket and an unwrapped toy donation are required, but I’m going shopping tomorrow for ours.”

  Ours.

  Goose bumps prickled her skin. She clutched her phone tighter. “If you want help, let me know.”

  The words burst out.

  “Do you know what toys kids like?” Wes asked.

  “I’ve shopped for my brother’s kids.” She’d ordered gifts for them and her family on Sunday morning. She’d even bought herself something.

  “Then, I’d appreciate the help,” he said happily. “Can you go shopping with me tomorrow night?”

  “Yes.” After all Wes was doing for her, Paige wanted to help him. She’d researched enough of this year’s hot toys to know the good ones and the must-haves. “But I’m not sure what time I’ll finish working.”

  “That’s fine. Stores are open later since it’s December.”

  He appeared to be flexible about the time. “I can text you when I get off.”

  “Sounds good.”

  It did. “Have a great rest of the day.”

  “You, too. See you tomorrow.” He disconnected from the call.

  Paige shoved her phone into her jacket pocket. Toy shopping wasn’t a date, but anticipation shot to her toes.

  * * *

  As Wes entered the mall the next night, his muscles twitched. Not a case of nerves, more a touch of…uncertainty. He’d gotten out of the habit of going to malls and big stores. Too many people with germs. Even now when that didn’t matter, he worried—so he found smaller shops, boutiques, and ordering online were more comfortable. When he needed clothing alterations, his tailor came to him.

  Who was he kidding? Everyone came to Wes if he asked.

  And paid.

  He continued walking farther into the mall. It might be a weeknight, but that hadn’t kept holiday shoppers away. They juggled bags while weaving their way through the crowd-packed place.

  People spoke over the Christmas music playing. These weren’t traditional carols, but modern tunes with a faster beat and stronger baseline. Shiny decorations sparkled and glowed from the ceiling and on the floor. Lighted garlands hung from the upper floor’s railing.

  A woman wearing a Santa hat smiled at him. “Merry Christmas.”

  Wes opened his mouth to repeat the words, but nothing came out. He nodded instead.

  Three teenagers with red glowing noses and holding pink shopping bags walked past. A mom chased a toddler in an elf suit. Somewhere carolers sang, a different song from the music playing from the mall’s speakers.

  The people, the sights, and the sounds overwhelmed him.

  His stomach knotted. Why hadn’t he ordered the toys online and chosen same-day pickup?

  “Go ahead and say it,” Craig said, walking a half-step behind him. “You’re thinking it.”

  Yeah, Wes was. He didn’t care who heard him. “Bah humbug.”

  Craig snickered. “Knew it.”

  “I prefer an old-fashioned Christmas, not…” Wes glanced around and grimaced. “Over-the-top glitz and commercialism.”

  “Something like Hood Hamlet.”

  “Exactly like Hood Hamlet.” Wes couldn’t wait to be there on Friday night. His staff would have the lodge clean and ready, but he wanted to have a few special surprises in place to make Paige’s time there memorable.

  A large lighted Christmas tree caught his eye. This wasn’t as tall as the one in the center of the mall. Paper ornaments with writing on them hung from the branches. He read one—Age 8: A child’s tablet.

  Wes froze.

  “You okay?” Craig asked.

  “This is a giving tree?”

  “Yes.”

  Wes hadn’t seen one in years. He scanned other tags—Age 3: Wooden train, Age 10: Chess set, Age 5: Baby doll. Each tag listed an age and a toy.

  Toys for kids in need.

  Blaise Mortenson, his closest friend, came to mind.

  What had Christmas been like for Blaise with addicts for parents? Had he received gifts under the tree from Santa? Had a charity stepped in? Or had his family even celebrated the holiday?

  Wes’s chest tightened.

  The urge to grab every tag was strong, something he wanted to do for a younger Blaise and for himself. Wes reached forward.

  “It’s the second we
ek of December,” Craig said. “There’s plenty of time left for people to take tags.”

  Wes lowered his arm to his side, but his gaze remained locked on the tags. A nine-year-old wanted a jigsaw puzzle. Was that the only gift they wanted? Would that be all they received under their tree? Did they even have a tree?

  The questions swirled in his brain. “I could…”

  “You could, but you also have the foundation.”

  The foundation. That gave him an idea. “I’ll talk to Sadie.”

  Except then he wouldn’t be personally involved as Henry recommended.

  Craig started to speak but stopped himself.

  “What?” Wes asked.

  Craig kept his lips pressed together.

  Wes shook his head. “You might as well tell me because I’ll get it out of you, eventually.”

  Craig squared his shoulders. “You don’t have to save the world.”

  “I know.” But Wes wanted—needed—to do…something. He had to make the most of being in remission. He couldn’t right all the wrongs he’d done or the people he’d hurt, but he could help others. Which was why he removed three tags from the tree. “I’m taking these. I’ll be in the toy store, anyway.”

  “You should be there already.” Craig sounded more amused than annoyed. “Dr. Regis is waiting for you.”

  Paige was here? Wes’s heart kicked up a notch. “Where?”

  “Your date is up ahead.”

  Wes huffed. “Not a date.”

  Craig coughed. “My bad.”

  Yeah, right.

  Paige faced the toy shop’s window display. She wore a green sweater under a quilted parka vest and black leggings tucked into suede boots. A single braid hung past her shoulders.

  “Paige,” Wes called.

  As she turned toward him, a smile spread across her face. “Hi.”

  Wes’s breath caught in his throat.

  Beautiful.

  Not a date, he reminded himself. “You beat me here.”

  Her mouth slanted. “I didn’t realize it was a competition.”

  “It’s not.”

  Though he and his friends could turn anything into one. That was how they ended up with the last-single-man-standing bet. Each put ten million dollars into a fund Blaise used to beta test his latest algorithm. The amount surpassed the five-hundred-million mark. Winner would take all, but the money was only the icing. Bragging rights held more value to Wes.