The Billionaire's Christmas Wish: A Single Mom Romance (Christmas Billionaires) Read online

  The Billionaire’s Christmas Wish

  Laura Haley-McNeil

  Huerfano Press, LLC

  Copyright © 2020 by Laura Haley-McNeil

  All rights reserved.

  All rights reserved. This print book and e-book are licensed for your personal enjoyment only. The book and e-book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person or use proper retail channels to lend a copy. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without written permission. To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, please contact the author at [email protected]. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this writer.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Published by Huerfano Press, LLC

  For more information about the author, please visit www.laurahaleymcneil.com.

  To Brian

  Contents

  Author’s Note

  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

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  About the Author

  Also by Laura Haley-McNeil

  Author’s Note

  Dear Reader,

  Many years ago, I lived in an old Denver neighborhood and would take the bus to and from work. Every day, the bus drove through neighborhoods filled with tiny brick houses, but the most intriguing for me was an old school building that had been beautifully designed with a gabled roof and mullioned windows, but now stood empty and forlorn. I often thought of the building and wondered about the students and teachers who had passed through the hallways and played on the playground over the years.

  The building made such an impression upon me that as I began outlining The Billionaire’s Christmas Wish, I saw a way to use that old Denver school building as the setting for my book. A writer constantly thinks, “What if …” And so I wrote down all my “what ifs” and slowly wove a tale of romance that took an old abandoned school and brought it to life.

  Turn the page and read about an old schoolhouse that became the stage for a touching love story between a football player and a teacher and the wonderful love that wraps around us during the Christmas season and, hopefully, all year through.

  Merry Christmas to you and your loved ones!

  Love,

  Laura

  Chapter 1

  River Jackson stood on the sidewalk and stared at the old Denver schoolhouse. The three story building with its darkened windows looked like a multi-eyed creature staring back at him. A string of Christmas lights framed the entrance doors. Someone had attempted to bring this relic some holiday spirit.

  He dragged fingers through his hair and glanced around The Grid neighborhood—tiny brick houses, some trimmed with Christmas lights, some with Christmas trees in the front windows. Most of the homes looked older than the schoolhouse, which had to be ancient.

  Quiet fell over the area. Probably most of the neighbors were at work, but if anyone were home, would they wonder why the Denver Flyers’ starting quarterback was standing in front of the old schoolhouse? More likely they wouldn’t notice, because he wouldn’t stay long.

  Looking back at the building, he wondered about the woman he’d meet—Mrs. Soledad Marcos. Coach Vato Diaz, the Flyers’ head coach, had told him she ran a learning center for the neighborhood children. Though the program focused on academics, Mrs. Marcos wanted a well-rounded curriculum that included physical activities and had emailed Denver teams asking if they could donate used sports equipment.

  River heard the prep school he’d attended would donate their old uniforms, so River volunteered to deliver the equipment to Mrs. Marcos’ school. Since injuring his shoulder, he had a lot of free time, and he had an hour to kill before he met with Morris, his agent.

  He released a rough exhale. Climbing the steps, he stood in front of the double oak doors and stared at the bronze handles. Should he knock? Coach had told him Mrs. Marcos lived at the school. How did anyone live in a schoolhouse?

  He knocked on the door. And waited. A few moments passed, and he turned away and scanned the neighborhood. In the distance, a dog barked. It was probably freezing.

  Silence ticked by and he glanced back at the door. Maybe Mrs. Marcos wasn’t home. Had she forgotten he was coming? He gave a dry laugh. Usually when he had a meeting, people rushed out to greet him. He moved toward the steps.

  The door behind him creaked open and he looked over his shoulder.

  “Mr. Jackson?” The woman’s clear voice had a trace of a Spanish accent. Her large dark eyes shone in a heart-shaped face, mounds of dark hair piled on top of her head. The multicolored cardigan she wore hung to her knees. Black leggings smoothed over shapely calves.

  A smaller face, with the same large, dark eyes, peered past the petite woman.

  “Yeah.” His voice was rough and filled with a little surprise. He hadn’t expected Soledad Marcos to be young … and pretty. Was the child her daughter? Mrs. Marcos looked too young to have a daughter and too young to be a Mrs. Marcos. “I’m River Jackson.” He stepped to the door. “You must be …”

  “Soledad Marcos.” She opened the door wider and extended her hand. “Your football team’s office called and said you would be here today. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jackson.”

  “Please, call me River. Everybody does,” he said.

  Mr. Jackson was his dad, the most famous quarterback to play the sport.

  River took her small hand and was surprised at the strength when she shook his. She couldn’t be more than five feet and weigh more than a sack of potatoes. How could this woman run a foundation that helped dozens of kids?

  The girl next to Soledad grabbed her arm. Her eyes stretched wide, and she shook Soledad’s sleeve. Soledad bent an ear to the child, who spoke softly in Spanish.

  “My daughter reminds me that she is anxious to meet you,” Soledad said with a grin.

  Daughter? She had a daughter and a husband who was probably in charge of the sports activities. Soledad was too small to play defense, but with her lean frame she could be a running back.

  “I’d like you to meet my daughter, Kalida Marcos.” She wrapped an arm around the child whose smile revealed two missing front teeth.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Kalida.” River hunkered down in front of her.

  The child tucked her hands, covered with the sleeves of her sweater, to her mouth and giggled.

  “What do you say to Mr. Jackson?” Soledad lifted her brows and looked at her daughter.

  Kalida dropped her hands and stared at River. “It’s nice to meet you, too.” She giggled again and looked at him through her lashes.

  Soledad smiled, the love for her daughter shining in her eyes, then looked at River. “Now that we have the introductions out of the way, won’t you come in?” She widened the door and stepped to the side.

  “I have some donations in the car.” River was shocked by his attraction to this woman and curled his hands into fists. It was that or he’d rake fingers through his hair like some awkward teen. He nodded to the SUV parked at the curb. “I’ll grab the equipment and be right back.”

  “I’ll help you.” Soledad stepped to the porch.

  Kalida followed but stayed slightly behind and very close to her mother.

  “Uh …” River stared down at her. The boxes in his SUV were bigger and definitely weighed more than she did. “I got it. It won’t take long.”

  “No, you’re here to deliver donations, not to do all the work yourself. I strongly encourage teamwork with my children, so it makes sense that I help.” Her chin high, she flashed him a determined look.

  “All right.” He’d find something for her to carry.

  “We should take a cart.” Her eyes brightened. “That way we can carry more at one time. Come inside. It’s too cold for you to wait outside.”

  “Where is it? I’ll get it.” River stepped into a large entrance that caught his voice and threw the echo to the ceiling. Gray marble covered the floor and showed the faded paths of the students who had traipsed across the floor for decades. Wood paneling spread over the walls and stretched to a domed ceiling covered with historical figures. Archways surrounded the foyer and led down narrow hallways to classrooms where children no longer sat and stared at blackboards.

  “It’s in here.” Soledad moved across the room and opened a closet door. She tugged the cart’s h
andle.

  “Here, let me.” He reached past her and glided the cart from the closet. She may be small but she had the determination of a linebacker.

  “Do you think you can manage?” Frowning, she scraped white teeth over her full lower lip. “Your coach did say you injured your shoulder.” She frowned, the concern in her eyes siphoning air from his lungs. She seemed to truly care about him.

  His pulse kicked up a notch. He found her intriguing and something more. He pushed that thought from his mind. He was here to deliver football equipment, not enhance his social calendar.

  “Coach did?” River released a slow breath. He didn’t like people talking about him though he knew a lot of people did. What else had Coach told her? “Actually, my shoulder’s fine.” Almost fine. “But this cart will help me manage the boxes,” he said. “Thanks.” He smiled at her. Not only was this little woman determined, she had a big heart. Most of the women he met wanted to be seen with him. None of them had shown concern for his injured shoulder, though a couple had said they hoped he’d be back on the field soon.

  So did he.

  “We’ll get our coats and help you,” Soledad said.

  River guided the cart through the entrance door and down the ramp to the sidewalk. Soledad followed, her daughter clinging to her arm. River pressed the remote on his car fob and the back of the SUV floated open. He leaned into the backend. Grabbing the corner of one box, he pulled it out and set it on the cart.

  “Remember, I should carry something, too,” Soledad said, her eyes eager and serious.

  “All right.” Turning back to the SUV, he noticed a small box she could carry and he hefted it through the opening.

  “Think you can manage?” He held out the box to her.

  “I may be small, but I am very strong, Mr. … River.” She blushed, the color making her beautiful, and held out her arms.

  His heart rose in his chest. When was the last time he’d seen a woman blush? If she could be considered a woman. If she didn’t have a daughter, he’d consider her a girl.

  “That I don’t doubt,” he said.

  He laid the box carefully in her arms and watched her face to make sure it wasn’t too heavy. This woman didn’t look strong enough to carry a bag of groceries. If she couldn’t manage, he wouldn’t let her carry the box. He knew too well what it was like to live with an injury.

  “See?” She looked at him as if surprised the box was lighter than she expected. “I can manage.” Turning away, she strode down the sidewalk and up the steps to the schoolhouse.

  Kalida touched her mother’s arm and trailed after her. Looking over her shoulder, she cast River a doubtful look. Maybe to make sure he followed them.

  “I’ll be right there.” River gave Kalida a thumbs-up sign, which made her grin. He stacked boxes onto the cart and pressed the remote. The hatch drifted closed, and he followed Soledad and her daughter into the schoolhouse.

  “You can wheel the cart next to the table.” Soledad led the way to a large table surrounded by straight back chairs. She set her box on the polished finish. “Anything else?”

  “That’s it for the boxes.” River set them on the floor. “Let’s see what’s in them.”

  “Yes, I want to see what I have to work with.” Soledad’s musical laugh filled the big room and sent a rush of emotion through River that stunned him.

  He glanced at her. Her dark eyes danced with excitement—over used football uniforms. Even his ex-girlfriend, Peggy Duncan, hadn’t looked that excited when he’d given her a diamond bracelet, which could explain why she was his ex-girlfriend, but there were other reasons—the main one being he hadn’t been in love with her.

  Kalida clapped her hands and jumped up and down.

  “Do you play football?” River lifted a brow at the little girl.

  Her eyes widened. Wrapping a hand around her mother’s arm, she leaned into Soledad and shook her head.

  “No, this little one can run fast, but she’s devoted to her ballet lessons,” Soledad said with a laugh and smoothed a hand over Kalida’s dark hair.

  “A dancer. Well, I hope I can see you dance one day,” River said.

  Kalida smiled shyly and turned her face into her mother’s sweater.

  “We’ll be sure to invite you.” Soledad looked adoringly at her daughter. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with one of your games.”

  A darkness rose inside River. Right now nothing interfered with his games. He wasn’t playing. He’d been benched, and he’d stay there until the doctor signed his release papers. Hopefully, in two weeks. He didn’t like warming the bench.

  Soledad knelt next to one box and lifted the flaps. She stared down at the jerseys, shoulder pads and helmets. She lifted a helmet with deep scratches across the silver and black paint that had faded from years of tackles and the players scrimmaging in the sun.

  “These are wonderful. The children will be so pleased to have these.” Quick tears blurred her eyes. “They’re very anxious to play tackle football. How can I thank you?”

  “Hey,” he whispered hoarsely. “Don’t be sad.”

  “I’m not sad.” She stuttered a laugh. A tear escaped down her smooth cheek. Blushing, she brushed it away. “I’m happy. The children and I have been praying God would see fit to bless us with uniforms. He used you to answer our prayers.”

  “I’m not the one to thank. As much as I’d like to take the credit, you owe your thanks to Evans Prep School,” he said softly. Her gratitude burrowed a hollow place inside River’s soul. She looked at these old, beat up uniforms as if they were made of gold. He looked at them and saw what they were―castoffs from a football team whose wealthy families could afford top-of-the-line uniforms, freshly painted helmets, and shoes with cleats that could grip the grass.

  “Tell you what. I’m going to take these.” He closed the flaps to the box. “And order new uniforms.”

  Fear filled Soledad’s eyes. Rising, she moved between him and the box. “Why would you take away something perfectly good from kids who are so desperate to have them?”

  “I’m not taking them away.” He would’ve laughed if the fear in her face hadn’t wrenched his stomach. “I’ll replace them with something better. These uniforms are old and worn.” They’d probably looked worse before they’d been sent to a professional cleaner who’d laundered and repaired the equipment. “You want helmets without dents and shoes that grip turf.”

  A frown dipped between her silky brows. Turning to the box, she dug a shoe from the box and turned it over.

  “These cleats look like they’d grip turf.” Distrust in her eyes, she stared at him.

  “New cleats will do a better job.” He softened his voice. He admired what she did―looked for sports equipment that would help disadvantaged youth achieve a dream, but if she’d let him, he could buy better equipment for the children.

  “I can’t afford anything better than this.” Her beautifully shaped face filled with realization and disappointment. “Granted, our donations have increased, but the giving isn’t steady. I have to be frugal with how I spend this money. Sports is important, but so is schoolwork.”

  “I quite agree. That’s why I’ll donate the new equipment.”

  “You can afford to buy all new equipment for the children?” Doubt crept into her gaze.

  “Sure, what could it be? A few thousand dollars?” That was chump change. When he saw her eyes widen, he regretted his cavalier attitude. He may have a lot of money, but she sure didn’t.

  “I think these uniforms are more than adequate.” She dropped the cleat into the box. “New uniforms do not make good players.”