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    Hot Billionaire On A Train: So Hot Billionaires, #12
    Hot Billionaire On A Train: So Hot Billionaires, #12
    Hot Billionaire On A Train: So Hot Billionaires, #12
    Ebook310 pages6 hours

    Hot Billionaire On A Train: So Hot Billionaires, #12

    By Melody Love

    ()

    Read preview

    • Friendship

    • Relationships

    • Personal Growth

    • Communication

    • Family

    • Friends to Lovers

    • Opposites Attract

    • Billionaire Romance

    • Love Triangle

    • Fish Out of Water

    • Love at First Sight

    • Second Chance Romance

    • Workaholic Protagonist

    • Happily Ever After

    • Love Conquers All

    • Travel

    • Self-Discovery

    • Love

    • Trust

    • Romance

    About this ebook

    JR's taking the train to Denver to be with his family after the death of his grandpa. Although he has all the money in the world, he's terrified of flying so prefers to travel by train. He tries to rest on the train when he's disturbed by an argument happening in the train car. He leans forward to see what is going on and decides to intervene. Little did he know his intervention would change the rest of his life.

     

    Amanda is a pediatric nurse who has always dreamt of having babies of her own. She's on the train to Denver to visit friends. She bought the ticket because it was cheap and she didn't want to drive alone. Now there's a fight in her train car and she's quickly regretting the decision, until the man that was punched needs her help.

     

    Now they've gone their separate ways and didn't exchange any information. JR is kicking himself and Amanda can't stop thinking of him. Will fate make their paths cross again?

     

    A HEA that proves love is serendipitous. 

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDM
    Release dateMay 25, 2020
    ISBN9781393369677
    Hot Billionaire On A Train: So Hot Billionaires, #12

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      Book preview

      Hot Billionaire On A Train - Melody Love

      Chapter 2 – Amanda

      There was no such thing as a normal or average day in the maternity ward of a hospital. As an OB nurse, I constantly had to be on my toes. Working with laboring mothers and newborn babies came with unique challenges. I could be going through the steps of routine monitoring and observation, then an emergency alert could have me racing through the halls to assist with a breeching birth.

      That was exactly what happened a mere minute ago. I burst into the delivery room without knocking - privacy was out of the question for such a situation- and found several nurses already there, assisting the troubled mother onto a stretcher.  She would need to be transported to a surgery room for the procedure. The doctor was present. His gloves were slick with blood and birthing fluids.

      I hurried over and thrust my hands into the midst, providing support for the mother’s back. She moaned in pain, though not in response to anything I was doing. Contractions shook her rounded stomach.

      Amanda, the doctor barked.

      I straightened. Yes, Doctor?

      We’re covered here. Please assist the father.

      Oh, right.

      I turned around, searching the room. There he was, backed up in the corner, separated from the mother of his child by the frenzy of working nurses. I went to him and took him arm. He was trembling. Sir, I said. Please come with me.

      He lifted his head. His eyes were so wide the whites showed. Kiki...

      Whether Kiki was the mother or child, I had no way of knowing. I pulled on his arm. Please, come with me, I encouraged.

      He went where I tugged him, following me out of the room into the hallway. The army of nurses barreled out, pushing the mother on the stretcher ahead of them. The doctor followed a little slower; he didn’t need to rush, as there were preparations to be made for the mother before he could work on her and deliver her baby. The surgical nurses and aestheticians would handle that with the assistance of the OB nurses.

      I pulled the father along behind me to a small side room and pointed to a chair. Please, sir, sit and try to breathe deeply. You’ll faint otherwise.

      He did neither. He was a small, dainty man with dark blonde hair, almost the male version of myself. Looking at him more closely, I could see how young he was. 20, if that.

      I need to be with my wife, he croaked.

      I put my hands on his shoulders and nudged him back to the chair. Your wife is having a breech birth, sir. She needs to be prepped for surgery.

      What does that mean? he asked, looking helpless.

      Babies are normally born head-first so they can breathe, I explained, speaking slowly and calmly despite the seconds flying past. See, babies’ skulls are very malleable. Their heads are compressed a little while emerging, making the head the narrowest part. Then the rest of the baby comes. It’s easier to start small and get progressively wider. But when a baby is breech, the bottom or the legs come first. That means things start out much bigger and the body has a harder time. The best thing to do is to perform a C-section to avoid that situation. Do you understand? This is the best for both your wife and child.

      He stared at me, his expression mostly blank. I had no idea how much he understood of what I had said. At least his breathing was easier.

      I hooked my foot around one leg of the chair and pulled it closer. He collapsed down into it as if suddenly realizing he was exhausted. What happens now?

      Your wife will go to one of our surgery rooms for a C-section, I explained gently. She will be given a general anesthesia. That means she won’t feel any pain. Your baby will be born and everything will be okay.

      He glanced up sharply at my reassurance. Really?

      Yes, of course. Now, our hospital has a policy where you aren’t allowed in the surgery room. It’s not safe. But there is a window you can watch from. Your wife will be able to see you. And as soon as she and the baby are taken care of, you can go see them.

      Can I go now? He stood up, a little shaky on his feet. I want to be there.

      Of course. Please, follow me.

      I turned to the door and opened it. Before I could step out into the hall, he grabbed my hand and stared into my eyes. Things will be okay?

      I pulled a little picture out of my pocket and held it up in front of his face. The picture showed a newborn with a startling quantity of curly ginger hair. This is Cynthia. My best friend gave birth to Cynthia after 24 hours of labor and an emergency C-section. She’s happy, healthy, and I’ll be going to visit her soon. So, I can say with 100% certainty that everything is going to be okay, sir.

      His mouth set into a firm line of determination. Let’s go.

      I smiled and led him straight to the surgical theater. We were just in time. His wife’s mouth kept moving, asking silent questions to her nurses. One of them pointed at the window. She looked and saw us. She saw her husband and smiled, lifting a shaking hand in a wave.

      He pressed his hands to the glass and yelled encouragement. The room was soundproofed so she couldn’t hear, but there was no doubt in my mind that she heard what he said in her heart.

      I had to leave and prep the post-partum recovery room, but I knew things would be okay. Sure enough, an hour later, I passed by the room in time to witness the mother being wheeled to her recovery room on a stretcher, her newborn in her arms and her husband at her side. The husband saw me and beamed, giving two huge thumbs-up. I gave him one in return as they entered the room, where they would be taught the basics of how to hold and care for their little one.

      My heart was so full from the whole experience. Nothing was ever guaranteed in this ward, despite how hard we all worked. Such a happy ending gave me hope for the world and made it easier to bear the hardships.

      I finished up with my shift and headed home. My thoughts wandered from work to the story I had told the father-to-be. It was a true story. I had tons of them up my sleeve, as did any nurse who had been working for any length of time. I pulled them out as needed to encourage others.

      Cynthia was a real little girl, less than a month old. Her mother was my best friend, Jessica, who had moved all the way from Chicago, Illinois to Colorado after college. Jessica really had gone through all that with her husband Troy at her side the whole while. I’d put in for vacation time right after the successful birth and very soon, I would go down to Colorado for a visit.

      Tomorrow, as a matter of fact.

      Well, later today. It was past midnight. I worked 12-hour shifts on the regular, so driving home in the dark wasn’t unusual for me. I honestly preferred driving at night, despite the city’s crime-addled reputation. Traffic was less of a pain, and there weren’t as many self-obsessed pedestrians to watch out for. The sky was never black, never full of stars, but instead possessed a haunting orange glow from all the lights. So many lights, climbing from the ground to the sky, twining up skyscrapers and pulsing at the tops of towers.

      I parked out in front of my apartment building. The parking lot was slick and black from an earlier springtime drizzle, reflecting the lights from above and all down the street. I breathed in the damp air and let my breath out in a long and slow sigh. Something inside my soul calmed.

      Now prepared for the storm that awaited me inside my apartment, I headed in.

      Sarah was there at the door to accost me. She planted her hands on her hips and cried out. It’s about time you showed up! Your shift was supposed to end two hours ago!

      I set my purse and work bag down against the wall. I pushed the door shut so no one would have to overhear us. I told you I had a 12-hour shift.

      You said 10 hours.

      I said 12. I left her standing by the door and headed into our kitchenette. I grabbed a gallon of milk out of the fridge and poured myself a big glass. Nothing refreshed me more than a big glass of milk after a hard day. You must have made a mistake.

      If you say so. Sarah followed me into the kitchen. She leaned her hip on the wall and folded her arms.

      I gave a little shrug. I’m not sure it matters, anyway. Even if it was 10 hours, I’d stay until I was done with my job. There’s no time limit on health.

      You’re such a goody-goody. I just thought you’d want enough time to pack up for your trip.

      There’s plenty of time, I told her. My train doesn’t leave until 8 a.m.

      That’s not a lot of time at all.

      I’ll have plenty of time to rest up on the train. I finished my glass of milk and slapped a quick sandwich together. I took it to my room with me and Sarah followed, to start with packing.

      I guess you’re right about that, Sarah mused. She shook her head. Sorry for being pushy. I just want this to go perfectly for you. You’ve been waiting for the chance to go see Jessica for ages.

      I opened my dresser drawers and started assembling outfits, which meant counting out an appropriate number of random shirts and pants. My fashion sense was not one of my best qualities, unlike Sarah, who looked classy as hell even with her hair down and dressed in only a honeycomb-pattern dressing gown.

      Sarah always had things under control. That was her best quality, and her worst at the same time, as she was never satisfied unless everything was exactly right. The same went for the people who existed in orbit around her. If she knew their plans, those plans had to go as she expected them to or she would again be dissatisfied.

      I had a feeling she was the kind of kid who would be upset about unscheduled snow days, or having a test pushed back to accommodate for more studying. I didn’t know for sure. I hadn’t gone to school with her. She was Jessica’s friend and Jessica’s former roommate, until she moved out to Colorado. Only then had she moved in with me,

      A small, wonderful silence persisted as I kept packing my bags with everything I thought I might need or want.

      Sarah was, naturally, the first to break that silence. I thought you were going to pack light.

      This is light! I said.

      Sarah laughed. I laughed, too. My roommate suddenly sobered and reached out to hug me, surprising me because she wasn’t normally the touchy-feely type. I’m going to miss you while you’re gone.

      Hey, don’t sound so sad, I told her. I hugged her back and rubbed her shoulders. I’m not going to be gone forever. And anyway, you’ll enjoy being able to have Vincent over without me getting in your way.

      She smiled at the mention of her boyfriend. I guess I will! But promise me that you’ll come back, please. I just need to hear it.

      Though I was certain this came more from her need for control than out of fondness for my company, I was touched. I promise I’ll come back. There’s nothing in Colorado that could pull me away from the city. This is where my job is, where my friends are.

      Sarah nodded, her uncharacteristic spell of emotion ending. She stood up and rolled her shoulders around. Well, you should get some rest. I’ll wake you up on time so we can get you to the train early.

      I’ll tuck in as soon as I double-check my bags. Night, Sarah.

      She headed out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

      I flopped down on my bed and let out a soft groan. Getting to the station early meant even less time to sleep. I would drive myself, but it made more sense to have Sarah drop me off. After all, she worked in Aurora, where the station was, so she could just go straight to her job after dropping me off.

      It’ll all be worth it when I’m in Colorado, I told myself. I’d have plenty of time to relax then.

      Chapter 3 – JR

      I locked the door to my house behind me and headed down the porch steps. My suitcase thudded down each stair behind me, gunshot loud in the morning quiet. The last golden and pink blushes of dawn were fading as I made my way to the street, chased away by the muted blue of the polluted sky. Though I knew the air pollution had nothing to do with me, I couldn’t help but feel the gray stain perfectly summed up my mood.

      A sporty red car idled at the curb. My driver, Rocky, climbed out and went around the back, taking my suitcase from me and stowing it in the trunk. Morning, JR, he said, his tone stunningly cheerful. "It’s a beautiful day already, wouldn’t you say so? Oh, it will be a beautiful day in Colorado, as well. I checked the forecast for you. Tomorrow will be brilliant, too. Would you like to hear?

      I shook my head. No, thanks, Rocky. The weather doesn’t matter.

      Rocky looked more than a little confused. I didn’t blame him. He had been my loyal driver for the past five years and never once had I refused one of his weather reports. Having grown up with a weatherman father and a meteorologist mother, weather was his passion, his hobby.

      Furthermore, I had never refused a Colorado weather report. Rocky knew very well that whenever I went, it was to spend time relaxing with family. This meant fishing, hiking, and lounging outside with the pleasant scenery surrounding us. My lack of interest meant, to him, that things had changed. And that was just as well, because things had. I wasn’t going to have fun on this trip. It was going to be hell.

      I didn’t feel like explaining that to him. He would feel bad for his unintended mistake and then I would feel bad for him, as it wasn’t his fault. He had no way of knowing.

      Instead of saying or doing anything in even a somewhat helpful manner, I left Rocky standing by the trunk and got in the backseat.

      Rocky peered at me with worry shining on his face. I could see him in the rearview mirror. He shook his head and came around the side of the car. He climbed into the driver’s seat and shifted gears into drive. Sit back and relax, JR. Maybe get a catnap in, if you can. The drive to the station will be a bit of a lengthy one.

      I looked out the window at the peaceful neighborhood. At least, the neighborhood that once seemed peaceful to me. Now I could only think about how thin a veil there was between happiness and tragedy. How many of the people I lived next to knew how close they were to being pushed over that line at any moment? They were lawyers, doctors, accountants, advisors, several steps removed from the dregs of society they observed daily. Did they know it could happen to them? That they could become the victims of a crime, lose all their money, need surgery, or need advice themselves?

      Or did they consider themselves invincible, as I foolishly had?

      I don’t really feel like taking a nap, I intoned.

      I’ve never seen anyone who looks like they need a nap more than you, boss. But alright! I get it. I have a hard time getting going from a nap and it’s way too early to call it quits. Want to listen to the radio?

      I won’t mind if you put it on.

      Rocky flicked a glance at me in the rearview mirror before turning on the radio. I watched as he found a Christian worship station; while neither a staunch believer nor a skeptic, he had told me once that the pure joy and belief in Christian songs made him happy. I wasn’t much for music with words and usually argued with him about it. Rocky loved a friendly argument. He loved anything to do with talking.

      Today, I didn’t hassle him for him choice in music.

      Rocky navigated the way out of the city in silence, but for an occasional hum whenever a particularly chipper inspired him. Once we made it to the highway and our speed picked up, he made another attempt to engage me.

      You never told me why you don’t fly. Wouldn’t it be much easier than taking the train every time? You could turn a daytrip into a few-hour excursion, JR.

      At least this doesn’t require much thought.

      He never asked why I made traveling so difficult on myself, respecting my privacy. I understood his interest now had more to do with trying to distract me from what was bothering me. Since he meant well, and I really could use a distraction for a few minutes, I decided to indulge him.

      I’m terrified of flying, Rocky.

      Flying on a plane is much safer, he replied.

      And when things go wrong, they go wrong in a much deadlier way, I responded, shutting down that old excuse. At least on the road, there’s a semblance of control. Not of the other drivers, but of myself. I can watch my own back. In a plane, I’m putting blind trust in a pair of strangers I get to only look at for a second, maybe a minute if he comes out to talk to us privileged folk in first-class.

      Rocky let out a sputter of laughter. You have extremely strong opinions on this! I’ve never known you to be so certain before. Is there a story behind this?

      Unfortunately, I sighed. When I was thirteen, I went on a flight overseas with my father. It was going to be a boys’ trip. We were going to Italy for a week to go on gondola rides and eat all the pasta and pizza we wanted. Meanwhile, Mom was going to party with friends and enjoy not having to care for a kid for a bit.

      That sounds absolutely amazing. I would have worshipped the ground my parents walked on if they ever did such a thing with me.

      Oh, I was so looking forward to it. Even all these years later, I can still recall how pumped I was. I thought I was such an adult for going on a fancy trip like this, and yet I was as wiggly and excitable as the little kid I really was.

      What happened?

      I smiled without much amusement. What happened is that both engines blew when we were over the ocean.

      Oh, god! Rocky cried.

      There was an electrical malfunction. A surge took out one engine and the other struggled to pick up the slack. It went up, too. My stomach flipped, remembering the sudden lurching drop as the plane’s source of locomotion failed. The pilots managed to get things in order enough so there was no fire. I remember the co-pilot coming over the intercom and talking calmly, yet swallowing so hard between sentences. He said that we were too far over the ocean to make it back for an emergency landing. We could glide still, but not far enough. We were going to perform a controlled ditch into the ocean. Boats would then come and rescue us.

      You survived, right?

      The attempt at jokery made me smile. I did survive! So did everyone else, though there were a lot of minor injuries. I’m sure almost everyone had to be treated for airsickness and shock. Oxygen masks dropped so we could still breathe during the change in pressure. I watched as the ocean got closer and closer. The pilot yelled for us to brace. My dad grabbed me and we braced. To this day, I don’t remember the impact. It’s just a black hole in my memory. In fact, I remember very little of the next several weeks. I was so traumatized by the whole experience I didn’t even want to leave my bedroom. I didn’t want to eat for fear of choking, or take a bath. I guess I was facing my own mortality for the first time.

      Well, no wonder you don’t fly.

      Yeah, I agreed. I brushed my fingers back through my hair. My chest tightened. I took some measured breaths, reminded myself this was only a story and more than two decades in the past now. I know it was no one’s fault and is incredibly unlikely to ever happen again in my lifetime, but I’ll take the train any day.

      I think the same goes for me, now.

      I managed a chuckle.

      Rocky seemed to consider his attempt to lure me into conversation a success and was content to drive in silence the whole rest of the way to the train station. The Aurora Transportation Center wasn’t much to look at despite the fancy entryway. I bid farewell to Rocky and made my way to my station. The conductor checked my ticket and waved me on. I stepped into the car and breathed in that familiar scent: something between a blend of car interior and hotel lobby. I tucked my suitcase away in the luggage compartment and chose an open seat near the back, where I would be less likely to be joined by a stranger. I settled in, digging out my laptop from the bag I kept with me.

      Other passengers quickly arrived, filling up the whole car except for a few seats here and there. Some of them spoke very loudly, almost heatedly. I put my earphones in to drown out the noise.

      Before I could put on any music, I heard a soft voice right next to me. Wow, and I thought I was early.

      I glanced up at the speaker: a rather young-looking, short woman with blonde hair. She had shadows underneath her eyes, as I no doubt did.

      There’s more spots up near the front of the car, I told her.

      She blinked and glanced down at me in surprise. Her eyes were an intriguing blue-gray. I guess you’d know, wouldn’t you? You’ve been here for a while already, judging from the nest you’ve made for yourself.

      I laughed. Guilty as charged.

      She smiled at me. Thanks. She headed up to the front of the car. Evidently, she found a seat, as I didn’t see her again.

      The conductor came through another time to double-check tickets and then we were off, gliding seamlessly over the tracks.

      Chapter 4 – Amanda

      Sarah parked her car in front of the train station and turned to me. Here we are. Early, just as promised.

      I sat up straight and rubbed my face, chasing away the dozy feeling which always came over me when I was a passenger in Sarah’s car. Not that I thought her boring, but she was always in such control I couldn’t help but to relax. Yep. Early. Early for sure.

      Sarah pulled her keys from the ignition and opened her door. I stumbled out and joined her in the chilly morning air. She helped me pull my overstuffed bags from her trunk and hugged me, which was twice in as many days. I

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