by Layne, Ivy
Dutifully, I said, “Thank you, Royal,” deliberately using his first name to prove he didn’t intimidate me. Never mind that he did. A lot. Far more than I wanted to admit. Something about Royal Sawyer left me off-center. Restless.
To cover my discomfort I took another sip of coffee, then set the ice back on the tray and picked up my fork. My last meal had been a long time ago and the Inn’s kitchen was one of the best in town. Cinnamon-scented stuffed French toast, fluffy biscuits, scrambled eggs, and crispy links of local sausage.
No way was I letting this go to waste. Royal took my cue and dug into his own breakfast. West didn’t knock on the door until we were almost finished.
Sawyers Bend was a little busier than your average small town, given all the tourists that moved in and out on a regular basis, but Weston Garfield didn’t typically see a lot of crime. That had changed since Royal’s father had died two months before.
Prentice Sawyer had been murdered in the family mansion, and Royal’s black sheep of an older brother, Griffen, had inherited everything. Since then, the town of Sawyers Bend had skidded off the rails. Griffen’s brother Ford was in jail for their father’s murder, though nobody in town seemed to believe he’d done it.
According to Hope, Griffen’s new wife and one of my best friends, someone had tried to kill Griffen twice, finally breaking into Heartstone Manor with a gun, intent on taking out as many Sawyers as he could. Added to the rumors that there’d been some trouble at the Inn, I was betting West Garfield had been a busy man.
He greeted Royal like an old friend and took the seat beside mine. Before he got started, he eyed the basket of cookies and brownies. “I know you’re not gonna hoard all those for yourselves.”
With a shake of his head, Royal passed over a packet with a crumpled cookie and one holding a brownie. West opened the cookie and fished out a piece. “It’s a good thing you stay out of trouble, Daisy. I’ve never been susceptible to bribes, but these cookies might do it.”
He sat back in the chair, his eyes fastened to my cheek. I couldn’t see what it looked like, but it throbbed, and my skin felt stretched tight. Swollen. It was a good thing I had Grams and J.T. to work the front counter at Sweetheart. I didn’t need customers seeing me like this.
“We have your early-morning visitor locked up. Unsurprisingly, he’s not talking. He do that to you, Daisy?”
“It was dark, and I was trying to find the staff entrance—” I ran West through the events of that morning. When it was happening it seemed like it took forever. In retelling it to West I realized only a few minutes had passed from the moment I bumped into sweatshirt guy to Royal pulling him off of me and pinning him to the ground.
West took careful notes, his face impassive, eyes serious. “Is that everything?”
“That’s it,” I confirmed and drained the last sip of my cappuccino.
West tapped his pen on his notebook before standing. “What you did was very brave, Daisy. I know Royal and Tenn appreciate you stopping him before he could cause them more trouble, but the next time you run in to a stranger in the dark who’s intent on committing a crime, you don’t confront them. You run the hell away. Understand?”
I hung my head. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand. I did. I agreed with West. He was absolutely right. And given the chance, I would have done the same thing all over again.
I was only somewhat stupid, so I didn’t tell West that. Instead I raised my head and said, as contritely as I could manage, “I understand.”
West nodded. “If you think of anything else, let me know. I’ll talk to you later, Royal.” He left, closing the door behind him.
Royal looked at me. “You just lied to the police chief, didn’t you?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe. If I’d had my phone, I would have called for help.” I thought about the man in the sweatshirt holding that box up to the air intake vent, and I shook my head. “No, I wouldn’t. I mean, I would have called, but I also would have tried to stop him. I’m not saying it was the smart thing to do—”
“—but it was the right thing to do,” Royal finished for me.
“It was the only thing to do.”
I knew better than anyone that sometimes choices weren’t about right and wrong.
Sometimes choices were about what you could live with.
I’d be living with this swollen cheek for a while, but if the Inn had to shut down because of a cockroach infestation all of us would suffer. There were other places to stay in Sawyers Bend, but none attracted the kind of high-profile guests with money to spend like the Inn at Sawyers Bend.
Royal contemplated me, his gaze thoughtful as he took another bite of brownie. “What are your plans tonight?”
“What?” I asked, not following his abrupt change in topic.
“Tonight. What are your plans?”
“Um, dinner with my grandmother and J.T., and early to bed since I have to get up before four.” It wasn’t sexy or exciting, but that was my life.
“Have dinner with me instead,” Royal ordered with a flash of that charming grin. The spark of light in his deep-blue eyes would have brought me to my knees if I hadn’t already been sitting.
My long-neglected hormones shouted YES! My mouth opened, and instead, I said, “Why?”
Royal’s charming grin morphed into genuine amusement. “Because you’re brave. And smart. And very, very pretty.”
My jaw didn’t exactly drop, but it was close. Very, very pretty? I didn’t have to look down to see the grass stains on my jeans, the flour smeared across my shirt, and my cherry-cola curls falling out of the messy poof I’d stuck them in well before dawn.
At my best I could pull off pretty. I had good genes to work with, after all. But after hours spent in the kitchen, plus a fistfight? No way.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t mix business with pleasure.” I said, primly.
“Neither do I, usually,” Royal countered.
I rolled my eyes again. “Right. You never date locals, only hook up with hot tourists who come through the hotel. If that isn’t mixing with business with pleasure—“
Royal’s smile slipped. “Not the same thing. Are you saying you don’t want to have dinner with me?”
I ignored his question. “Anyway, I have boyfriend,” I said.
Royal shook his head. “No, you don’t.”
“I do,” I insisted.
“Who?” he demanded.
“J.T. Everybody knows that,” I said. It was mostly true. Kind of.
Royal leaned back in his chair again, crossing his arms over his chest and raising one eyebrow. “And that’s not mixing business with pleasure? He works for you, doesn’t he? In fact, if you look at it that way, it’s a harassment case waiting to happen.”
I laughed at the thought. “J.T.’s been my best friend since middle school. He’s not going to sue me for harassment.” Realizing that made us seem less like the romance of the century, I looked away. “I appreciate the invitation. I’m flattered. But I have a boyfriend and I’m not interested.”
“Lying again, Daisy?”
The heat that hit my cheeks had me standing, putting my napkin back on the tray and pushing in the chair. “Your first order will be delivered tomorrow. I’ll include the invoice. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”
Royal stood and followed me out, his fingertips landing lightly on my lower back as he guided me through the door. “You sure about dinner tonight?”
“I told you, I’m not interested.”
Royal’s laugh followed me into the empty reception area, all the way to the elevator.
“If you say so. I’ll be seeing you around, Miss Daisy.”
I very much doubted that.
And I was very, very wrong.
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Also By Ivy Layne
THE HEARTS OF SAWYERS BEND
Stolen Heart
Sweet Heart
The Untangled Series
Unraveled
Undone
Uncovered
THE WINTERS SAGA
The Billionaire’s Secret Heart (Novella)
The Billionaire’s Secret Love (Novella)
The Billionaire’s Pet
The Billionaire’s Promise
The Rebel Billionaire
The Billionaire’s Secret Kiss (Novella)
The Billionaire’s Angel
Engaging the Billionaire
Compromising the Billionaire
The Counterfeit Billionaire
Series Extras: ivylayne.com/extras
The Billionaire Club
The Wedding Rescue
The Courtship Maneuver
The Temptation Trap
Don't miss
the series that started it all.
The Billionaire Club Trilogy.
About Ivy Layne
Ivy Layne has had her nose stuck in a book since she first learned to decipher the English language. Sometime in her early teens, she stumbled across her first Romance, and the die was cast. Though she pretended to pay attention to her creative writing professors, she dreamed of writing steamy romance instead of literary fiction. These days, she’s neck deep in alpha heroes and the smart, sexy women who love them.
Married to her very own alpha hero (who rubs her back after a long day of typing, but also leaves his socks on the floor). Ivy lives in the mountains of North Carolina where she and her other half are having a blast raising two energetic little boys. Aside from her family, Ivy’s greatest loves are coffee and chocolate, preferably together.
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