To the kennels, p.1
Blue Harbor Billionaire: A MM Nerd-Jock Romance (Blue Harbor Boys Book 3), page 1
Blue Harbor Billionaire
Blue Harbor Boys Book 3
Declan Rhodes
Book Cover designed by Declan Rhodes
Model and background images sourced from DepositPhotos
Copyright © 2024 by Declan Rhodes
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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Declan Rhodes also previously published under the pen name Grant C. Holland.
Contents
1. Ronan
2. Tyler
3. Ronan
4. Tyler
5. Ronan
6. Tyler
7. Ronan
8. Tyler
9. Ronan
10. Tyler
11. Ronan
12. Tyler
13. Ronan
14. Tyler
15. Ronan
16. Tyler
17. Ronan
Epilogue
Also by
About the author
Chapter one
Ronan
The private charter jet's engine drone softened as we descended into Blue Harbor's municipal airport, the landscape below transitioning from endless forests to a quaint Lake Michigan shoreline town. I pushed my head back against the black leather seat, fingers drumming a restless beat on the armrest. The plane's flaps extended with a subtle mechanical whir, preparing us for landing.
The pilot's warm, reassuring voice crackled on the intercom. "Mr. Gallagher, we'll land in Blue Harbor in approximately ten minutes."
I pressed the button to answer. "Thanks, Captain. Ever spent any time here in Blue Harbor?"
"Never had the pleasure, only been in and out of the airport. I hear it's a charming place with lots of history and character."
History and character? Was that another way of saying quirky and behind the times? I leaned back, closing my eyes but keeping the intercom open. "My great-uncle used to tell me stories about the town. Sounded like a place right out of a Norman Rockwell painting. You know, where everybody knows your real name and your embarrassing childhood nicknames."
The pilot chuckled. "I bet it'd be a good place to lay low, away from the rat race."
"Yeah, you're probably right. I'll have to consider that once I get my family issues sorted out." I scratched my nose, a habitual gesture whenever nerves crept in.
As we neared the runway, the pine forests on the outskirts of Blue Harbor loomed larger. Memories of my great-uncle Ian flooded back. His stories of exotic locations and the hidden treasures he found there had always captivated me. He was always a man full of infectious enthusiasm.
Once, he went on about the lost city of Atlantis while staring at a fake ruined castle in his fish aquarium. His eyes always twinkled with mischief. Now, I was arriving in a small Midwestern town to chase after the pieces of his last puzzle.
The landing was smooth, and excitement rose inside me as I walked across the tarmac. It came with a hint of trepidation, too. I didn't want to end up like the German billionaire who disappeared in the Alps. Pushing aside dark thoughts, I located the sleek, black electric vehicle I'd purchased for the trip.
I ran my fingers over its dust-free exterior, admiring the state-of-the-art design. Cutting-edge technology has always fascinated me, and I prided myself on reducing my carbon footprint. The car had more gadgets than James Bond's Aston Martin, minus the ejector seat.
A concern tugged at my thoughts while I loaded my luggage into the trunk. I spotted an older gentleman in a blue uniform. "Excuse me, sir. Are there any charging stations for electric vehicles in Blue Harbor?"
His tone was warm and laced with amusement. "Not sure, but the KwikStop by the highway and the station downtown might have them. We don't see many fancy electric cars around here."
A hint of self-consciousness crept into my voice. "Suppose that's to be expected. I'll stand out more than I hoped."
The man clapped me on the shoulder. "No worries, son. People around here might be curious, but we're friendly. Be yourself, and we'll welcome you no matter what car you drive."
I slid into the driver's seat and immediately retrieved Great-Uncle Ian's letter from my messenger bag. Tracing his familiar handwriting, I read it again.
My dearest Ronan,
I've left you something of great importance in Blue Harbor. Trust no one, and follow the clues carefully. Your journey begins at Blue Harbor Community Bank downtown on Main Street. A safe deposit box is there, and my attorney has sent you the key.
I stared at the words, my stomach twisting into a knot. It had been less than a month since he passed away, and I still found it hard to think about a world that didn't include him. He'd always been the family caretaker of our wildest dreams and adventures.
The last time I saw him, he told me his latest tales. One of those involved meeting the king of Bhutan. He added personal nuggets of wisdom to the stories. "Never forget life's most valuable treasures are those you discover inside yourself. Always trust your instincts, even when the path ahead is scary and unexpected."
Guiding the car onto the unfamiliar streets of Blue Harbor, I marveled at the town's charm. Tree-lined streets provided the perfect setting for grand Victorian homes. As I neared downtown, quaint storefronts took over, their windows full of colorful displays. It was like stepping into a Hallmark movie, minus the cheesy plots and predictable boyfriends—so far.
Soon, the car's GPS indicated I was only blocks away from the bank. The energy around me was surprising as I looked out the car windows. Crowds thronged on the sidewalks, and expectant faces lined the streets. I rolled my window down and inhaled the distinctive scents of popcorn and grilled hot dogs.
Something extraordinary was happening. It wasn't a welcome for me; they had no advance warning of my arrival. I chuckled softly at having the hubris to suggest Blue Harbor might lay down a red carpet for my visit.
Brightly colored banners tied around lampposts heightened my curiosity, but I reminded myself of my mission—Great-Uncle Ian's safe deposit box. I wasn't on a tourist trip.
Scanning the storefronts as I crept through the traffic, I searched for the bank mentioned in the cryptic note. Finally, when I turned a corner at the town square, I spotted it. Fronted by stately columns, Blue Harbor Community Bank stood out.
My next challenge was finding a parking spot. I drove around the block twice before I saw a narrow, empty slot between a red SUV and a bright blue pickup truck. Whispering "Yes" under my breath, I maneuvered into the space and smiled.
While I strolled across the street, it was impossible to avoid immersing myself in the town's excitement. Laughter and lively chatter filled the air. For a moment, I wondered what it would be like to grow up in such a close-knit small town.
While I climbed the bank's front steps, my thoughts raced with speculation about what lay ahead. After brushing one hand down my suit jacket to smooth the wrinkles, I pushed open the heavy wooden doors.
The hushed silence inside contrasted sharply with the noisy crowd outside. Polished marble floors and ornate wooden counters reminded me of an era long past. The building had seen many generations of Blue Harbor residents come and go.
I approached the nearest teller window. A friendly woman in her mid-forties welcomed me with a warm smile. "Good morning. How can I assist you?"
"I'm here to access a safe deposit box," I replied, my nerves buzzing with anticipation.
"Of course, we can help you with that. Do you have your key and identification with you?"
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the small purple velvet bag containing the tiny silver key from Great-Uncle Ian's letter. "I do have both. A family member passed away, and I need to see what's inside as soon as possible."
After comparing my passport photo with my face, the teller nodded. "Looks like all is well, Mr. Gallagher. Let me verify the box number in our records."
While she typed on her computer keyboard, I glanced around the lobby. Only two other customers were present; everyone else was likely celebrating outside with the rest of Blue Harbor.
An older man approached the teller to my right, chatting about the celebration. "It's wonderful to see our little town come together. I'm sure the kids are thrilled. This kind of thing is what makes Blue Harbor special."
The teller nodded in agreement. "Definitely, Mr. Schulze. It shows the true heart of our town."
My teller interrupted my eavesdropping with a slight frown. "Mr. Gallagher, there's a small issue with the safe deposit box."
My breath caught. "Issue? What do you mean?"
Her frown melted into a reassuring smile. "Oh, please don't worry. This happens all the time. The box is listed in Ian Gallagher's name, so we need an authoritative statement from him to open it. Do you have a copy of his will or any other document confirming your rights to the box?"
I sighed in relief. "Of course, I should have thought of that immediately." Reaching into my messenger bag, I pulled out a copy of Great-Uncle Ian's will and the letter from his attorney. "Here you go. This should be all you need."
"Precisely. This is exactly what we need."
Following the teller into an elevator to the vault in the basement, I studied her face. Her expression was warm but professional. I spoke softly. "I'm a bit nervous about what might be in the box. Great-Uncle Ian was an enigma. I'm not sure anyone knew his heart, but he was always ready with secrets and stories to share."
She turned her head slightly. "You're not the first to have such questions, but sometimes we stumble upon the most unexpected treasures in the last place we expected. Whatever you find there, my gut instinct is it will be something of real value."
The box contained only one item—an old, leather-covered journal. As I retrieved it, an earthy musk from the leather combined with a hint of foreign spices and a faint scent of saltwater. My hand shook as I turned to the first page, greeted by Great-Uncle Ian's elegant script. A folded piece of white paper, much newer than the journal, slipped from between the pages and drifted to the floor.
I nearly collided with the teller as we both crouched to retrieve the paper. She chuckled nervously, and I smiled. With the note in my trembling hand, I read another message from Great-Uncle Ian.
My dearest Ronan,
If you are reading this, I have left the mortal coil for my next adventure, and the burden of revealing Blue Harbor's secrets is in your hands. Read the entire journal. It will point you in all of the right directions.
"Is everything okay, Mr. Gallagher?"
I hastily pushed the note into my messenger bag and gently added the journal. "Yes, I think it is, but time will tell. Thank you for your assistance, and I might see you around town. I'm not sure how long I'll be here."
"I do hope you enjoy your stay." The teller returned the box to its proper location, and I followed her back toward the elevator.
"Before I go, could you tell me what the celebration outside is about?"
The teller grinned. "Oh, of course. You certainly aren't from around here if you didn't know. Our wonderful kids won the state high school baseball tournament, and we're throwing a parade in their honor." She lowered her voice slightly. "My nephew, Andy, is a shortstop on the team."
"Congratulations. I was never much of an athlete, but I've got a soft spot for baseball.
"Well, I'm Maggie Brooks. Let me be among the first to welcome you to Blue Harbor officially."
As I stepped out of the bank with the journal safely tucked away in my messenger bag, the lively celebration swept me into its orbit. I inhaled the scents of popcorn and cotton candy, along with the drum cadence of a marching band turning the corner.
Looking both ways from the curb, I was eager to return to the parking lot, but the marching band was too close. I restlessly shifted my weight back and forth and watched as the crisp uniforms and gleaming instruments streamed past me. The delay caused a momentary flicker of frustration. What I wanted most was to get to my hotel room and read through Great-Uncle Ian's journal. The secrets contained inside were calling out to me.
As the band members marched by, I forgot my irritation and listened to the soaring sound of the horns. It was easy to surrender to the energy. The crowd around me cheered and clapped, and soon I joined in.
After the band passed, my thoughts returned to the task at hand. I needed to know what was in the journal, and I'd have plenty of time later to explore the intricate details of daily life in Blue Harbor.
The street was empty before me, and I took it as my opportunity to make a break for the parking lot. Clutching the messenger bag tightly to my side, I stepped off the curb and into the street. The asphalt, having baked in the sun all morning, was warm, and the heat radiated up through the leather soles of my shoes. I quickened my pace when I was nearly halfway across.
The moment I reached the center of the street, the sound of something clattering around me caught my attention. I pivoted on my heels to inspect the pavement around me. My mouth dropped open when I saw my smartphone, with its royal purple case, lying face-down on the asphalt. A wave of panic washed over me. Should I retrieve it or not?
My initial instinct was to keep walking and worry about finding a new phone later. I was in a hurry to get out of the crowd and investigate the journal in my bag. As I took one more step, I decided I couldn't abandon my phone with all its connections, photos, and stored messages. It was possible they could be retrieved, compromising my privacy, and the device was only steps away.
Sighing, I smiled sheepishly at the crowd and returned to where my phone lay. As I crouched to pick it up, I heard the sound of laughter and cheering suddenly growing louder. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw a group of young men in crisp blue and white Blue Harbor Beacons baseball uniforms rounding the corner.
It was a lively, friendly bunch. The players waved to the crowd and tossed handfuls of candy to children at the curb. A pitcher, tall and lean with a shock of red hair, wound up like he was pretending to throw a fastball, causing the crowd to cheer. A stockier boy, most likely the catcher, leaped forward and crouched as if he were catching the imaginary pitch.
My pause was a few seconds too long. I didn't see the man walking backward in front of the team, waving a hand and calling out instructions. I didn't notice him until it was too late, and he was upon me. Just as I started to shout, "Hey!" we collided.
He was a solid wall of muscle, and the force of our impact sent us both tumbling to the ground. He yelped, and we landed in a heap of flailing arms and legs. As I lay on my back, clutching my phone in one hand, I opened my eyes to find a pair of striking emerald green eyes staring back at me.
The asphalt's heat warmed my back while the other man writhed and wiggled against me as he attempted to stand. He turned his head, and his breath was hot against my cheek.
"Oh, man—damn—I'm sorry. Are you okay?" Concern blended with embarrassment. "I didn't see you there. Guess it's what you get for walking backward, eh?"
I struggled to catch my breath as my heart pounded hard in my chest. The man had a tall, athletic frame and wore his chestnut-brown hair buzzed short. I spotted streaks of dirt on the uniform caused by our collision, but they only added to the stranger's effortlessly handsome and charismatic presence.
"I'm f… fine," I managed to choke out. "Just a little winded is all."
The man's eyes sparkled. "I guess you could say I swept you off your feet." He laughed at his own joke and pushed himself up to standing before offering a hand to help me.
His grip was warm and firm, raising goosebumps on my forearm. As he helped me to my feet, an invisible current surged between us, and the magnetism was undeniable. I couldn't help but notice how his biceps flexed, straining against the fabric of his uniform.
"I'm Tyler," he announced with a smile. "Tyler Kincaid, head coach of the Beacons, and I teach at the high school, too. I don't recognize you. New in town?"
With a quick nod, I brushed my clothes to try and smooth my rumpled appearance. "Ronan Gallagher. I'm here to sort out some family drama."
I watched as the wheels turned in Tyler's mind. "Gallagher, as in Ian Gallagher, the old man who lived in that big house on top of the bluffs north of town?"
My eyes opened wider. "Yes, that was my great-uncle. Did you know him?"
Tyler shook his head. "I never formally met him, but you couldn't live in Blue Harbor without having heard of him. All sorts of stories and secrets seemed to swirl around that house. Some here even think he hid a treasure away somewhere, but I'm guessing that's wishful thinking."
I wasn't sure whether it was an actual treasure, but Great-Uncle Ian certainly did leave some things behind. I gripped the messenger bag tighter, wondering what my new acquaintance might think if he knew about the journal I'd just retrieved.
As I opened my mouth to respond to Tyler's comment, he glanced over his shoulder and started to turn. "Hey, bud, I'd love to chat more, but I need to catch up with the team. We've got an exhibition game late this afternoon against the community college, and I've got to lead batting practice before."
