Page 45 of The Bitter Heir and the Beauty

Yeah, the dining room table isn’t the ideal place, but I’ll wipe it down later. Plus, Leonie’s on top of a couple of blankets. The kid is powerful—especially those pipes. But I have enough sense to keep my eyes on her so she doesn’t roll.

And that’s just it. Her eyes are big and blue and somehow look past mine and—my heart does something weird. It’s like my ribs crack open. My pulse is a mess. The second one is a result of Honey standing in the doorway, a bag in one hand along with a carton of eggs.

I have a strange sensation of déjà vu. Or future vu. I don’t know what any of that means. But there’s a strong sense of rightness inside that I’ve never before experienced.

It’s like she’s come home and this is our family.

But the look I’m getting isEw Beastas if I’d lock her up here like in the old fairytale, which reminds me of when I teased her about kissing and she said that would be gross.

The woman is no-nonsense. But she’s all beauty. Even half windblown from the rain after a long day. Her neck is long, forming smooth lines that disappear into her shoulders. I recall her wearing my T-shirt. She hasn’t given it back. Maybe she burned it in effigy. Or perhaps she sleeps with it on her pillowcase.

I give my head a little shake because right now it’s all over the place.

Pointing at Leonie, I say, “I think she needs a diaper change.”

Honey bumps me out of the way with her hip and has Leonie clean, dry, and changed into a little sleep sack garment in under sixty seconds.

“You could be part of a pit crew.”

“I was.”

My brow bunches up. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“Where are you putting us?” Her gaze wanders to my chest, where moments before, I’d pressed my hand to my heart. The warmth and imprint remain similar to when I was a kid, and I’d do a belly flop into the lake, it would smart for hours afterward, only better.

My voice is scratchy even after I clear my throat. “I’ve been staying in the main suite on the second floor. You two stay up there. I’ll—” He angles his head toward a leather couch that looks new.

It’s Leonie’s bedtime, and I set her Pack ’n Play next to the king-sized bed in the master bedroom. Honey stares at it.

To put her mind at ease, I say, “As I said, I’m taking the couch.”

“I can’t sleep in here.”

“I understand you’re a headstrong woman, but I assure you?—”

“Why does everyone say that about me?”

“I wasn’t done. You’re also incredibly stubborn.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“It’s adorable.”

“Maddock ...” Her tone is one of warning.

“It’s good to be strong. And it’s obvious you have a head on your shoulders.” I smooth a damp piece of hair behind her ear. “But you could try to be less stubborn.”

“You mean please try to be more adorable?”

“I mean someone stubborn burned me once.”

“But you’re a firefighter. Don’t you know how to put out fires?”

“Safety first.”

Honey blinks a few times as if my comments catch up with her and she doesn’t have the energy left to fight yet battles with herself about how much she wants to collapse onto the bed—it’s plush. “I’m still in the twin I’ve been sleeping in since I was a kid.”

“Then you’ll sleep like a baby with all that room.” I gesture to the king.

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