Page 93 of Stuck with the Billionaire Celebrity

“Thank you,” Theo says, nodding as Ernest sets the tray down on a small table by the window, his movements practiced and deliberate.

“Is there anything else you require this morning?” Ernest asks, a hint of a smile peeking through as he glances from Theo to me.

“Perhaps directions to the village? Though, I’m certain sir remembers how to find his way.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Oh, he’s been here before?”

“Quite. Sir is something of a legend around these parts.” He shoots Theo an amused look. “Very fond of the pub, if I recall correctly.”

“Nothing wrong with a pint or two.”

“Of course not, sir. And may I suggest a stroll through the village market? Mrs. Henley’s flower stall is particularly fine this time of year. She’ll be terribly excited to see you.”

With another nod, Ernest glides from the room, closing the door softly behind him. I watch Theo, a grin creeping across my face.

“So, a legend, huh? Do I get to hear the stories?”

“Only if you’re buying me a pint,” he says, leaning back on his hands and laughing. “Come on, let’s get ready.”

After we dress, the scent of freshly baked bread wafts through the hall as we make our way downstairs.

In the cozy breakfast nook, the chef is bustling about with a tray of pastries, a warm smile lighting up her face as we step in.

“Good morning, Mr. Theo, Ms. Grace,” she says, pushing a plate of buttery scones in our direction. “These just came out of the oven. Figured you’d need a little bite before you head off.”

“Thank you, Maggie,” Theo says.

My stomach rumbles as I eye the scones. “These look incredible.”

Maggie waves her hand dismissively, her cheeks flushed with pride. “Oh, it’s nothing. You two make sure to try the clotted cream—made fresh by Mrs. Bradley down the road.

She’s been supplying us since, well, since I can remember!”

As I spread a spoonful of the thick cream over my scone, I am blown away at how rich and satisfying the flavors are.

Theo looks over, catching my expression as I take a bite, his eyes bright with amusement.

“Good, right?”

“More than good,” I reply, around a mouthful of it.

With breakfast finished, we thank Maggie and set off for the village. It doesn’t take long before we see the first signs of it—a stone church with a weathered steeple, standing tall against the backdrop of green hills.

There’s also a cobblestone street flanked by rows of charming little shops with painted signs and overflowing flower boxes.

“This is straight out of a storybook,”I say, gazing around in awe.

Theo chuckles. “Wait until you see the market. Come on.”

The village square is buzzing with people when we arrive. The market stalls are draped in fabric bunting, and there’s a cheerful clamor of voices and laughter as locals exchange pleasantries.

I watch as a woman in an apron dusted with flour hands a loaf of bread to a young man, their warm smiles making it feel like everyone here knows each other.

Theo leads me to a flower stall. The flowers are arranged in vibrant bouquets—wildflowers, peonies, roses—all tied up with twine.

A woman in her sixties, with her gray hair pulled back in a bun and glasses perched on her nose, spots Theo and gasps.

“Theo! I can’t believe it! Back from the city, are you?” she exclaims, wiping her hands on her apron before throwing her arms around him in a hug. He hugs her back, laughing.

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