Page 54 of Winning His Wager

Dylan was living in the guy’s house, probably wandering around it in pajamas that didn’t hide a damned thing. Probably right there in Fletcher’s damned way. Of course, the other guy would take advantage. She had probably been fucking him long before she moved in with him. Why wouldn’t Fletcher put the moves on her? Dylan was the hottest woman in Masterson now.

Rage had Will simmering. He didn’t say a word to his sister, who was still bitching. When she stopped, he opened his door. “I’ll walk you inside.”

“Why? Need another soda? They aren’t interested in a loser like you, Will. They never will be. They are too good for us. You are better off getting with Caitlyn or something. She’s more your speed.”

Caitlyn was just a teenager. Like eighteen or nineteen. She was hot, though. He’d thought that before. He wouldn’t have minded before. Except… she was smart. Worked hard. She wasn’t like Abby and Braelyn in a lot of ways. They were in their early thirties but the two of them acted like stupid high school girls.

Caitlyn didn’t.

She was going places, that kind of thing. Even if she barely talked that much.

“I like Caitlyn just fine. I would screw her if she’d let me.” At one time, he’d thought about it. But he was seven or eight years older than that girl and she was working so she could pay for college or something, and didn’t really have family other than Braelyn. She didn’t need a guy like him getting in the way of that. Screwing up her future and stuff.

Besides, he was ready for a woman more his own age. He was only three or four years older than Dylan. “But I’m too old for Caitlyn. She’s just a kid.”

“Caitlyn’s being a total bitch. Told me to just mind my own business the other day. I just wanted to know where Dylan was since I had to work for her this time.”

“Where was Dylan? Was she sick or something?”

“Fletcher took her with him to Texas for some reason. Probably to carry his bags. That’s all that bitch is good for.”

He understood then. That was what had had his sister acting like a total bitch this past week.

Dylan had the man Abby wanted. And Abby didn’t know what to do about it. “Just get over it, Ab. Dylan’s with Fletcher now. Find another guy, will you?”

36

Fletcher walkedher to the front desk, where she clocked in using the family system in the back office. Then he walked her right to the dining room. He settled in at the small table she had privately thought of as his since about day one of seeing him around the inn all the time.

Her second-cousin Casey, a seventeen-year-old who worked at the inn before school started every day, already had everything lined up out of the freezer and fridge. Dylan would be responsible for the cooking-slash-heating everything up portion of the shift. She liked it—there was a clear routine, thanks to Meyra—and it allowed her time to think.

She had onebigthing to think about today.

This time, she had two sisters already in there. “What’s up?”

“Large bunch of film executives and producers checked in late last night to surprise us. From Hollywood and Finley Creek this time. You are going to need the help,” Dusty said around a yawn. “I do not like mornings.”

“You used to, until you had a Ben-Ben to wrap all around,” Dixie said sarcastically. Well, Dylan could understand the appeal of a Ben-Ben to wrap around. She was seriously considering wrapping herself around a Fletchie, after all.

“Of course. I could be at home right now, wrapped up around him. But we are both here now.”

Dylan had seen him in the dining room. Fletcher was sitting with him. “Ben work up an appetite this morning?”

Her sister’s lips looked a little swollen there…Dylan couldn’t resist touching her own.

Those Tyler boys. Wow. Totally dangerous to women.

“Probably same way Fletcher did,” Dusty said, smirking back. “So…are you boinking him yet? How was your trip? Nice and romantic? We saw him kissing you through the window, Dylan Geraldine. I started getting a little overheated this morning—again. Since I do have my own version of him and everything. So spill…”

Dylan’s cheeks flamed bright red. She had totally forgotten they were parked by the kitchen’s side window. He had just kissed her and she’d lost all sanity. In an instant.

“So?” Dixie asked, turning on the industrial ovens they’d use to reheat the food Meyra had already cooked and frozen for later. No wonder Casey had gotten out so much. Movie execs ate like pigs sometimes. “Have you boinked Fletcher yet?”

“I have not boinked Fletcher.” Dylan thought for a moment. If she couldn’t be honest with her sisters—Casey had left already, thankfully, she was just a kid—then who could she be? Besides, Dusty was uniquely qualified to help her figure things out here. Since she did have her own version, after all. “Yet. I have not boinked him, yet. And why do we always use the wordboinkedaround here anyway?”

“That would be Miranda and Charlotte’s doing. They are always talking about boinking,” Dusty said. “Kind of irritating really. Well, when you?—”

“Aren’t the one doing the boinking?” Dixie finished, grabbing potholders and lining them up where they were supposed to be. “Tell me about it. Anyway…what is the hold up? You’ve been living with him for over a month, and he took you on a romantic getaway. I didn’t figure he’d hold out that long.”