Page 17 of The Bitter Heir and the Beauty

She peers up at me through thick glasses. “I’m Shirleen Halfpenny and I have my good eye on you. Don’t miss a trick. Understand?”

Despite how very seriously I take her cautionary comment, given that she thinks all trucks look the same and thinks her battery-operated dog is real, I fight a smirk. “I understand, ma’am.”

Mrs. Halfpenny looks at Honey for a long moment and then turns to me. “Hogwash Holler isn’t the kind of place where matches are made. Rather, hearts are broken. Now that you’ve manned up, I don’t want to have to break any legs. So if you try to run off again—” She brandishes her cane.

Small towns are known for having characters, but this place is something else.

In a much sweeter voice, Mrs. Halfpenny asks Honey, “Did you save any bacon for Mr. Frodo?”

“I’ll bring it by later.”

“Good. Someone has to bring home the bacon around here and help a girl out.” Mrs. Halfpenny looks me up and down, then nods at Honey before stumping off.

“What was that all about?” I ask, walking toward the truck.

“She thinks you left me high and dry.”

“Why would she think that?”

Honey’s shrug is lethargic. Then the comment about broken hearts floats back to me. Maybe someone special in her life left, leaving her bitter. I know the feeling.

I open the passenger door to the truck.

Shaking her head with more vigor than the shrug, she stands there, sucking on her lollipop. “I’m not riding with you.”

“I don’t know where I’m going.”

She points down the street. “Drive that way until you hit the bayou.”

“And have to call a tow truck?”

“You said yourself that you rented this monster because it has four-wheel drive.”

Touche. I’ll check the brake lines just to be safe.

She shifts her weight. “The chateau isn’t hard to find. You don’t need a tour guide.”

“But Molly said you’re the best.”

“Molly doesn’t know everything—” Honey tilts her head as if reconsidering that.

“You still didn’t tell me about the trophy.”

“Ancient history.”

The window of the Laughing Gator Grille fills with three women, all staring at us as if waiting for Honey to get in the truck.

“Or you could go face them.” Plastering on a smile, I proffer a cheerful wave.

“Fair point.” She gets into the truck.

I close the door, wondering which one of us will lose this proverbial game of chicken. Honey is in it to win it, but I’m no slouch either. She has a strong will. Is a bit wild. I remind myself why I’m here ... and who got me into this mess. A growl escapes at the thought of Emberly.

When I get in the driver’s seat, her honeysuckle scent fills the cabin and I figure there has to be some sweetness hidden under her sassy exterior.

After I back out of the parking spot, I continue down Main Street. “Not much here, huh?”

She huffs as if affronted—like only residents are allowed to comment on the town’s shortcomings. “There’s plenty. Hogwash Holler has Hallmark Town potential but a home video budget. If you squint, you can imagine fresh paint, flowers instead of weeds, and adorable shops instead of the This & That.”

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