Page 30 of The Bitter Heir and the Beauty

I idle at the end of the overgrown road that intersects Main Street.

“Maybe I want your help.”

“And how would that benefit me?”

“You said you’re lucky you have a roof. When the chateau is restored, you can live there.”

Her laugh is robust then cuts off abruptly. “Why would you let me do that?”

“Because you have every reason to leave this town, yet you haven’t. Something keeps you here.”

“I’m beholden.” Her voice is faint then louder when she adds, “As it is, I can’t stack more onto my plate. And I don’t mean pancakes because there’s no such thing as too many pancakes, but there is such a thing as too much work ...”

“Flapjacks.”

Her phone beeps a few times. She checks the text. “I have to get back. Now.”

“So long as no one tries to take my parking spot, I’ll have you to the Laughing Gator Grille in less than sixty seconds. By the way, any recommendations for lodging?”

Her fingers fly across her phone’s screen as she replies to a text while saying, “There’s the Pigs in a Blanket B&B.”

“Huggers really go all out with the theme, huh?”

She rolls her eyes. “Hoggers.”

“Sounds to me like you’re saying Huggers.”

“Anyway, I don’t think Thelma will let you stay. At least not yet. She’s wary of outsiders and only allows locals, though Jesserecently moved out, so I know there’s space. Why not stay at the chateau, unless you’re scared.” The corner of her mouth curls with a smile.

“I’ll figure it out. Good luck trying to get rid of me.”

“And good luck sleeping at the chateau. Watch out for swamp zombies.” She laughs as she gets out of the truck in front of the restaurant and hurries inside.

Lexi and a man sit at the counter. She holds a baby and Honey lights up.

I can’t say I’m particularly afraid of ghosts, swamp zombies, or even the crocogator, but babies terrify me because they operate on their own principles. On the flight here, an infant wailed for a solid forty-five minutes. I know they don’t come with an off switch, but how can a guy who’s used to turning off alarms, not feel helpless in that situation—and, let’s be real, somewhat annoyed?

But what frightens me even more is the way Honey Hamilton messes with my pulse.

Chapter 7

Then Comes the Baby in the Baby Carriage

After the ever so rude interruption of Maddock in his monster truck, I resume my normal routine for the next week: evening feedings and stories with Leonie and sunny autumn mornings where I forget about how the little beastie woke me up numerous times throughout the night. All I can think about is her happy smile, serving coffee and pancakes with the best smile I can muster, rinse and repeat.

I hardly think about Maddock except when the roll-off dumpster service trucks drives past, hauling away load after load from the Tickle estate. An equal number of work trucks go the other way with signage for electricians, plumbers, and carpenters.

I hardly notice him when he enters and exits the Coffee Loft across the street, wearing work boots and a flannel. His stubble makes him look rugged. There must not be a mirror in the chateau.

Not that he needs to look in one to know he’s handsome.

Not that I think that.

But I’m looking in the mirror right now, wondering if that line next to my left eye used to be there. Pfft. Pageant queen? More like pancake queen and I don’t mind.

Not much.

Though sometimes, I wouldn’t mind having someone ... you know, a special person. One I could ask about is whether this wrinkle makes me look old or if this skirt makes my butt look big. I already know the answers, but would it be so bad for someone to love me so much that they’d tell me I’m beautiful? To love me despite the imperfections?

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