The Last Eligible Billionaire(30)

Probably.

There’s still a large part of me that knows she’ll start telling me how to keep him, even though telling my mom that I’ve moved up in the world of dating was no small part of the appeal of agreeing to this plan.

I really need to talk to Hyacinth.

At the same time, I hope she’s too busy with the kids and hasn’t picked up on my disastrous morning.

I like that twinstinct means I know when she needs me, but I hate that twinstinct also means she knows when I need her.

I need her to not know that I need her. For her sake.

Marshmallow shoves into the middle of the circle of the three of us, licks Giovanna’s hand, then continues on into the kitchen, where he noses open the silverware drawer and a random cabinet.

“Close it,” Hayes orders him.

If Marshmallow were a child instead of a dog, that soft whine would mean but I don’t want to.

“I’ll get it.” I move toward the kitchen, but Hayes grabs my hand and repeats his order to my dog.

Marshmallow goes all the way down to the floor, settles his chin between his paws, and gives Hayes the but I’m such a cute puppy and I did my best trick for you puppy dog eyes.

“What a sweet dog.” Giovanna pats Hayes on the arm. “Go take your Benadryl and stop tormenting the poor thing.”

This is not the same woman who gasped and recoiled in horror at the sight of me rubbing her son’s temples last night. And I’m pretty sure I didn’t have any nipple showing, and I was wearing underwear, which she also couldn’t see, because Hayes’s head was in the way.

Maybe she really thought we were faking and that was proof positive that we aren’t.

Or maybe all of us are better on a good night’s sleep.

Except me and my glorious awkwardness.

But then, I wouldn’t call what I did last night getting a good night’s sleep.

If I had, I never would’ve made that outrageous suggestion.

Have sex with me, fake billionaire boyfriend. I’m sure no one has ever suggested using you for sex before, so surely you’ll be fine with me doing it.

Idiot, idiot, idiot.

He’s trying to get away from women who only want him for what he can give them.

And I’m trying to get away from men who see me as nothing more than a live-in maid with benefits.

“I’ll finish chopping the vegetables,” I offer to Giovanna. Maybe I’ll have an onion malfunction and need to disappear to douse my head in the ocean a few times to rinse the onion juice out too. That’ll put my brains back in straight. Especially since the water’s not more than fifty-five degrees. “You can go put your feet up and enjoy your coffee.”

“Nonsense. We’ll chop vegetables together.”

“Where’s Charlotte?” Hayes asks.

“Sleeping in. She’s earned a day or two off after all the wedding excitement. Shoo. Go on. We know you can’t wait to get back to work. Begonia will come find you when brunch is ready. But let me get you a cup of coffee. It’s delicious.”

He’s giving her the same look he gave me in the closet yesterday when I was trying to explain that I had every right to be in this house, and the same look he gave me ten minutes ago when I proposed he be the first to lubricate my lady-bits post-divorce.

“You’re going home today,” he says.

And that means shopping for a dress with his mother’s assistant is out—thank god—so this farce is hopefully about over. I overheard someone in the market mention that one of the local B&Bs had a sudden opening. If I act quickly, Marshmallow and I might be able to talk our way in, just long enough for me to figure out what else my budget can afford for vacation for the rest of my two weeks.

I could try something on the Gulf of Mexico. Or further south along the Atlantic. No need to stay in Maine.

“No, I think we’ll stay another few days,” Giovanna replies. “Amelia hasn’t been out here since you were teenagers, and I promised her we’d explore town together. There’s a lovely new art gallery I haven’t seen yet. And then I get to know Begonia better, and we all make sure you’re not working too hard. Goodness knows that takes a village.”

The undercurrents in the kitchen are strong enough to drown even the bravest social swimmers, so I duck it all and slip over to the coffee pot, grab a fresh mug—have I mentioned I adore the homemade pottery here? It’s gorgeous, and I have so much respect for the talent it takes to make it—and I pour a cup, then realize I have no idea if Hayes takes his coffee black, or if he prefers it doctored.

“You’re going home today,” Hayes repeats while I decide when in doubt, fix it like I’d fix mine. That’s what I did with Chad when we were dating, and it was enough to prompt him to propose.

I suspect Hayes takes his black, like his soul, and doctored fancy might be enough to make him throw me out too.

That would be a little bit of a relief right now.

Giovanna clucks her tongue. “Hayes, the house is plenty big enough for all of us—”

“Which doesn’t change the fact that you weren’t invited.”

“I don’t care if you’re ten or sixty, I’m your mother, and I know when you’re in a mood and need to be checked on. This lone wolf routine—”

“Yes, I’m clearly alone and suffering for being here for a private getaway with my girlfriend.”