Page 58 of The Bitter Heir and the Beauty

Because all my life I’ve been fighting?

Because the guy is trying to feed me?

That last one is ridiculous and brings to mind Mrs. Daley’s conversation with me about the roof. My inner hunger amplifies because that day she served me sweet potato pie and sweet tea along with a hefty serving of the hard truth.

“Because every time I’ve taken a gamble on someone, they’ve shown their real hand.” My stomach sears with a gnawing hunger.

“Then maybe don’t play cards with dishonest people.”

The words hang between us. I can take them or leave them. It’s my call.

Clearing my throat, I say, “I need real food.”

As if knowing how hard this is for me, Maddock says, “This is just to tide you over. I’ll make whatever you want. Name it. Chef Maddo at your service.”

My thoughts turn fuzzy as my entire body turns slack in his arms.

Maddock tightens his grip. “Whoa there. Seriously, Honey. You need food.”

“I know,” I whisper.

As if we’re a professional couples’ dance pair, he somehow manages to sling me around so he’s cradling me in his arms. After letting go of my legs, I slowly slide down his front as he sets me on my feet. He’s at least six inches taller than me and I have to tip my head back slightly to meet his gaze.

Those deep blue eyes with the lighter ring around them hold on to me like a pair of life rings in a pool. I don’t want to let go. Ever.

I rasp, “I don’t know what I want to eat or why I refuse your help.”

He nods as if understanding that I have some things that I need to work through.

I whisper, “But I do know that I get disappointed when your gaze looks anywhere but at me.”

He shakes his head slowly. “I can hardly tear my eyes from you, Honey.”

I tell myself not to blush, but as my cheeks turn pink, his smile grows, pleased to have this kind of effect on me.

Then, also, as if he knows what I’m craving, he says, “I’m going to warm up Leonie’s bottle and then you and I are having dinner.”

Tallula’s beignet buns are phenomenal and I take a few bites while Maddock makes Leonie’s milk.

“The Laughing Gator Grille used to serve dinner, but I had to shorten opening hours. The Klatch is guaranteed early morning regulars, and since I’d often have an empty dining room at dinnertime, I cut the later hours.” I list some of the old dinner menu items like gumbo, jambalaya, and crawfish étouffée. “Antoine still occasionally runs them as lunch specials.”

“What was your favorite?”

“Lasagna.”

Maddock does a double-take. “Wasn’t expecting that on the menu.”

“It wasn’t. Cory’s grandmother Nan made it once, and I fell in love.” With the food and the boy.

Maddock swishes his lips from side to side. “Unfortunately, I don’t have all the ingredients for lasagna, but I can scratch something together I think you’ll like.”

We sit on the porch and have pasta with meat sauce. Leonie sits in her bouncer-rocker combo seat between us, kicking her little feet. Both socks go flying.

Maddock sets his plate off to the side and wipes his mouth. “While I’m gone, you have to make me a promise.”

“Only if you—” I’m about to tell him he can’t get rid of the stuff from the chateau, but it’s not like it’s my stuff. Anything valuable is long gone. Mama, my cousin, and their cohorts were sure to take care of that. The problem is I don’t want change. It’s like if I hold on to things hard enough, nothing will slip through my fingers.

“Only if I what?” he asks.

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