Page 91 of How to Fall for the Secret Billionaire
Instead, I get out of bed, get dressed, and carry the secret with me like I always do. Just for a little longer.
I head downstairs, already smelling coffee and something sweet—maybe cinnamon rolls or Edie’s apple Danish. As soon as I step off the last stair, Waffles charges at me like a four-legged rocket.
“Whoa—hey, buddy.”
He leaps up, tail wagging like it’s got a motor of its own, and I crouch to ruffle his belly. He licks my face in wild, messy gratitude.
“Waffles, stop bothering Mr. Reid, please,” Ana calls from somewhere in front of me.
I glance up, still laughing, and see her walking out from the kitchen, a dish towel tossed over her shoulder like always. She’s got that look—half amused, half suspicious, all sharp.
I follow her to the reception desk.
“I was just about to say,” she begins, narrowing her eyes, “I expected to see you coming down with your luggage.”
I grin. “Actually, I’m here to extend my stay.”
Her eyebrows lift. “Really?”
“Three more weeks.”
Ana gasps, loud and dramatic. “So you’re officially one of us now. Everfield’s got you.”
I chuckle. “I guess it does.”
Ana hums like she’s won a bet and starts tapping on the keyboard. “Same room?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I say, pulling out my phone and tapping to pay.
Transaction approved.
She hands me the printed receipt with a teasing smile. “Well, Mr. Reid, welcome to your extended stay at the Key & Kettle Inn.”
I pocket the receipt and give Waffles another pat. “Happy to be here.” I turn to Ana again. “Is Margot around?”
Ana snorts softly, her fingers still flying across the keyboard. “Still asleep.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Really?”
“It’s a rare miracle,” she says with a smile. “She never sleeps in. She’s usually up before everyone, chasing solutions before sunrise. So no one’s waking her today. Not even if the inn catches fire.”
I grin, heart tugging a little at the thought of Margot—still curled up in bed, undisturbed, safe. “She deserves it.”
Ana gives me a look. “She does.”
I thank her and head for the front door. The air outside is cool and a little damp, the kind of morning that makes you want to breathe deeper. I tuck my hands into my jacket pockets, ready for my usual walk down the orchard path.
I’m barely off the porch when my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s Marley. I’ve been expecting her call.
“Hello.”
“Mr. Reid,” she says. “Are you still on track to fly back to L.A. today?”
I pause at the edge of the steps and watch a squirrel dart across the gravel. “No,” I say simply. “I’m not coming back. I need more time.”
A heavy silence stretches over the call.
I spot Sam across the trail, his familiar steady gait and tool belt slung low on his hip, and my mood instantly lifts. “Marley, I will call you later.”
