Page 116 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
We all lean in as she taps the screen and starts the call. Juniper picks up immediately. The moment our faces appear, she lets out a scream. “What the—are you all together?! Is this a crisis? Why is Thea out in the sun? What is happening?”
We burst out laughing. Thea flips her off playfully, and Hazel grins.
“It’s a hangout,” Hazel says. “Margot’s idea, believe it or not.”
Juniper’s jaw drops. “No way.” Then her face softens, and she pouts a little. “Ugh. I miss you guys. I can’t wait to graduate and come home. Even with friends around, it still gets lonely sometimes.”
My heart tugs. “We miss you too, Juni.”
Hazel nods. “Seriously. This table’s too calm without your terrible music.”
“Hey! Guys, I’m twenty-one. My playlists are fire,” Juniper says, indignant. “You all just have old souls.”
We laugh again, and for a moment, the world feels perfect—like nothing’s broken, like we’re all exactly where we’re meant to be.
We joke a little more—until the waitress approaches our table with our food.
“Okay, okay,” I say, laughing. “We have to eat.”
Juniper groans dramatically. “No! You can’t just abandon me like this.”
“We’ll call you later,” Hazel promises.
“But take pictures!” Juniper demands. “Of yourselves. Of the food. Of the vibes. I want proof this happened.”
“We will,” I say.
“Pinky swear,” she replies, holding her finger up to the screen.
We all hook our pinkies toward the phone like idiots, and then Hazel ends the call.
The waitress sets our trays on the table and gives us a polite smile. “Enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you,” I say as she walks away.
I glance at Hazel and Thea. “Okay. Someone take a picture before we destroy this.”
Hazel already has her phone out. “Say ‘Juniper’s missing out!’”
We laugh as she snaps the photo, and then we dig in.
“Excuse me.”
I’ve not even had one bite when I hear the voice behind me. I turn, napkin still in hand.
A young man stands there, maybe mid-thirties, dressed casual but sharp—button-down shirt, dark jeans, a messenger bag slung across his chest. He’s smiling, but there’s a hesitation behind it.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he says, glancing between the three of us. “Are you Margot Hartwell? The owner of Key & Kettle Inn?”
I blink, caught off guard. “Uh… yes?”
His smile brightens. “Great. I’m Raymond. Raymond Cole. I’m a journalist forScoop. I stumbled on the inn online a few weeks ago—beautiful place, by the way—and I’ve been hoping to do a feature. Something small. A spotlight on family-owned businesses with heart.”
Hazel arches a brow. Thea tilts her head just slightly. I already feel the walls going up.
“Thank you,” I say, keeping my tone polite. “But I’m not really interested in interviews right now.”
His smile falters, just a little. “I get it. Totally. No pressure.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a card, setting it gently onthe edge of the table. “I’m staying at the Maple Row Hotel till Tuesday. If you change your mind, just give me a call.”
