Page 100 of The Billionaire Is Back

Claire blinks once. “I’m sorry—who are you?”

With the flick of a wrist and two fingers, he presents his business card. “Preston Bellwether. From the health department. I’m the new inspector. I have an appointment with Claire Swoony.”

“Sweeney,” she corrects.

“Yes. The appointment is for right now.”

Claire stares down at the card, at the man, back to the card again. “Okay, well, I’m Claire Sweeney, and I thought our appointment was on Tuesday.”

“Ohhhh, shiiiiiit,” Vera whispers from behind us.

Claire and I both look back at her best friend, and there is absolutely no confusion about the source of the confusion now. “Mr. Bellwether—can I call you Preston?”

“No.”

“I’m so sorry, but my assistant didn’t inform me about this schedule change. Is it possible to?—”

“No. I have to go out of town in two days. For one week. And I don’t work tomorrow.”

“But we’re scheduled to open in a week, Preston,” Vera says, as if she isn’t the one who screwed this up.

“Well then, it sounds like we need to do the inspection now, doesn’t it?”

I place a reassuring hand on Claire’s tense shoulderwhen she says cheerily, “Yes. Well. Come on in! The more the merrier.”

The inspector steps inside. “Not if you’re over capacity, it isn’t.”

“Well, we aren’t. Would you like some coffee? S’mores? Cookies? Cake?”

“Are these live lobsters?” he asks, staring into the two open containers on the table behind my brother.

“They aren’t just alive,” Damien replies, without irony. “They’re truly living—on the razor’s edge.” He punctuates that with a sweet guitar riff.

“You can’t have live lobsters on display here. This bakery isn’t rated for crustaceans.”

“So, there are bakeries thatarerated for crustaceans?” Vera asks with more curiosity than sass.

Claire shoots her a look.

“Those aren’t just lobsters,” my dad calls out. “They’re hardshell precision racing machines,” he adds, unhelpfully.

“But more importantly, they won’t be here when the bakery is open for business,” I assure Mr. Bellwether. “Maybe we should move on. I can guarantee you they won’t be a problem.”

“And you are?”

Is he kidding? “Grady Barber, sir,” I inform him, offering my hand to shake. “I’m Claire’s boyfriend.”

It feels good to say it out loud, but Claire adds, “Grady Barber is one of my investors. In this bakery.”

“Ah.” Preston absorbs the information but gives no indication that my name or any of it means anything to him.

When he turns his attention to one of the food displays, Claire and I share a look and a shrug.

Helen and Bob Sweeney swoop in to distract our unexpected guest with talk of real estate and puffins, but they don’t hold his attention for long because Jake bursts out of the restroom holding up a toilet handle.

“John’s broken!” he announces.

“Aw, poor John,” Mr. Sweeney jokes.

---